t I told her, 'Now, Susie and I git on all right
together without talkin', and if she's got anything to say to me that
I can understand she'll say it right to me, and not to somebody she's
never seen or heard of. No, ma'am,' I says, 'I know Susie better 'n
you do!' So since then I've kep' pretty whist about Susie; but she's a
mighty comfort to me every day o' my life."

Polly sat quite still in the little man's arms, her head leaning
confidingly against the shiny, well-brushed coat. Her eyes were
lustrous with the new, beautiful thought. Could it be really true? She
was going to believe so! Presently she was smiling again, and she read
that portion of her letter which gave the addresses of her father's
relatives. She told Mr. Bean all about the wonderful discovery of
Floyd Westwood through a birthday rose, and found that an address in
the letter was identical with one which her cousin had given her. She
began to feel the pleasant reality of kinsfolk, and when the little
man went home she waved him a happy good-night from the piazza, quite
as if there were no such things as tears.

CHAPTER XI

UNCLE MAURICE AT LADY GAY COTTAGE

"You can't live in Lady Gay Cottage much longer!"

This exulting announcement greeted Polly as she entered the
schoolroom.

She looked at Ilga Barron with puzzled eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just what I say," answered Ilga. "She can't; can she, Gustave?"

The boy at her side Polly had never spoken with, but now she turned to
him inquiringly. He had been in school only two days, having but
recently returned with his parents from a long stay abroad.

"She's right," he asserted, addressing himself to Polly. "Father's
going to sell the place."

"Oh! is that what you call our house?" queried Polly, beginning to
understand. "Does your father own it?"

Gustave nodded. "Mother named it from the Lady Gay roses on the
piazzas," he explained. "Wait till June, and you'll see!"

"I remember them last summer," Polly smiled. "They were lovely--all
pink and white, but I didn't know their name."

"You'll have to go back to the hospital to live, shan't you?"
questioned Ilga curiously.

"I don't know," Polly answered. Her face held a bit of anxiety as she
moved away.

This piece of news was the foremost topic at the Dudley dinner-table.
Polly saw that her father and mother were disturbed by it. Although
the Doctor made little jests, the laughter sometimes seemed forced,
and