"It's Latin, and it means miserable, all right," laughed Wyn. "And you act more to fit the name of 'Polly Miserrimus' than that of 'Polly Jolly.'" "It's Jarley, Miss Wyn." "But now tell me all about it, Polly," urged Wyn, having by this means stopped the flow of Polly's tears. "Surely it will help you just to free your mind. And don't be foolish enough to think that I wouldn't want to know you and be your friend if your poor father was the biggest criminal on earth." "He isn't! He is unfortunate. He has been accused wrongfully, and everybody is against him," exclaimed Polly, with some heat. "All right. Then let's hear about it," urged Wyn, capturing both of the other girl's hands in her own, and smiling into her tear-drenched gray eyes. CHAPTER IV THE SILVER IMAGES "Didn't you ever hear of us Jarleys?" Polly first of all demanded. "Only as being interested in the wax-work business," replied Wyn, with twinkling eyes. "I--I guess father never made wax-work," said Polly, hesitatingly. She was an innocent sort of girl, who evidently lacked many advantages of education and reading that Wyn and her friends had enjoyed as a matter of course. "Well, I never heard the name before to-day--not _your_ name, nor your father's," Wyn said. "Well, we used to live here." "In Denton?" "Yes, ma'am----" "Will you stop that?" cried Wyn. "I am Wyn Mallory, I tell you." "All right, Wyn. It's a pretty name. I'll be glad to use it," returned Polly. "Prove it by using it altogether," commanded Wyn. "Now, what about your father?" "I--I can't tell you much about it--much of the particulars, I mean," said the girl from Lake Honotonka, diffidently. "I don't really know them. Father never speaks of it much. But even as a tiny girl mother explained to me that when folks said father had done wrong I must deny it. That it was not so. It was only circumstances that made him appear in the wrong. And--you know, Wyn--your mother wouldn't lie to you!" "Of course not!" cried Wyn, warmly. "Of course not!" "Well, then, you'll have to believe just what I tell you. Father was in some business deal with a man here in Denton, and something went wrong. The other man accused father of being dishonest. Father could not defend himself. Circumstances were dead against him. And it worried mother so that it made her sick. "So we all left town. Father had very little money, and he built a shack up there in the woods near Honotonka. We're just 'squatters' up there. But gradually father got a few boats, and built a float, and made enough in the summer from fishermen and campers to support us. Of course, mother being sick so many years before she died, kept us very poor. I only go to the district school winters. Then I have to walk four miles each way, for we own no horse. Summers I help father with the boats." "That's where you got such palms! cried Wyn, touching her new friend's calloused hands again. "It's rowing does it. But I don't mind. I love the water, you see."