st, Polly, dressed for her journey, appeared in
Mrs. Illingworth's room, and with a pleasant good-morning was on her
way to the hall, when the lady stopped her.

"Wait a moment, dear!"

Polly turned, to see Patricia's mother opening her purse. Her heart
leaped in sudden joy. She had been blaming Patricia for neglect, but
now she silently begged her pardon.

"Run and get your hand-bag," Mrs. Illingworth smiled, "I want to put
something into it."

Polly fetched it gladly.

"There is fifty dollars, a little present from Patty and me, and I
hope you will have as much pleasure in spending it as we have in
giving."

Polly thanked her, and then added:--

"I wouldn't take it, as I told Patricia before I came, only that I
want the money for a very special purpose."

Mrs. Illingworth's eyes narrowed, as was their habit in surprise, and
she started to speak; but Polly was going innocently on, and the lady
glanced keenly at her daughter, who was standing transfixed in the
door of her room.

"I was wishing I could earn some," Polly was saying, "when Patty
offered this if I would come for a month; so it happened just right. I
thank you ever so much, and for my lovely visit beside."

It is doubtful if either the mother or daughter heard much of Polly's
grateful little speech. Patricia's face burned with shame at her
forgetfulness, and she wondered what her mother would say as soon as
Polly was out of hearing.

As for Polly she went blithely on her way, never dreaming that by
fortunate chance Mrs. Illingworth's gift came to cover up a bit of
negligence.

Fair Harbor was not reached until evening. To Polly's surprise, her
father was not at the station. Her letter, she reasoned, could not
have been received. But the road was well-known and the hour was not
late, so she took the way to Lady Gay Cottage with a light heart.

The house was dark. Neither father nor mother was on the piazza, as
Polly had hoped they would be. She was eager to feel their arms around
her. She pushed the bell-button again and again, but there was no
answer. It was dismally dark at Colonel Gresham's, too, and not the
murmur of a voice came to her as she listened.

"They are all out riding, probably," she explained to herself
discouragedly. It was a lonesome home-coming indeed. She walked slowly
over to the hammock, and dropped into it. Anyway she was at home--that
was a comfort.

"And they'll come pretty soon," she thought gladly. "They never s