no more "pinch,"--what need would there
be of her going to Uncle Maurice? And the letter wasn't mailed! She
wanted to jump up and shout it at the top of her voice. But instead
she stole across to her father, and slipped her hand in his. Then,
suddenly, her throat ached with the joy of it all, and she was close
to tears, keeping them back only by a mighty effort.

"Polly! Polly! come here quick!" called Leonora.

And Polly went, just as Mrs. Jocelyn was saying:--

"No, I shall not need my house any longer. Thirty years ago David
Gresham and I had a quarrel, and we think thirty years is quite long
enough for a quarrel to last,--too long, in fact!--so we have made up,
as the children say. I shall be very glad to leave all the worry of
housekeeping to Mrs. Collins, for I am tired of it."

At this moment she arose to greet a gentleman who was entering the
room. Polly recognized him as the Rector of St. Paul's, and before she
realized what was going on, Mrs. Jocelyn and Colonel Gresham were
standing together, and the marriage ceremony was in progress.

"What do you think now? Aren't you awfully surprised?" bubbled the
irrepressible Leonora, as the first congratulations were spoken.
"We're coming to live next to you, right in the house with David, and
Colonel Gresham will be my father!"

It was after the informal dinner, when the Colonel had the four around
him,--Polly and Leonora on either knee, and David and Chris each on an
arm of his chair,--that the "lovely thing," as Leonora called it,
happened.

"Polly, I'm going to have some roses on my piazza next summer,"
declared the Colonel, "and I reckon I'll let my quartette pick them
out for me."

"I shall choose Silver Moons," decided Polly at once.

"I will be ready for them, thorns and all," he laughed. "But there
are no thorns on these roses," taking from his pocket four small
jewel-cases of bright blue leather.

The children opened them eagerly. Polly's and Leonora's contained gold
rings exactly alike and of exquisite workmanship, a little rose spray
encircling the top, and in the heart of the open flower a tiny spark
of dew. The boys' scarf-pins were of similar design, being headed by a
miniature full-blown rose.

"I can never thank you enough for all the beautiful things you give
me," purred Polly, caressing the ring on her finger.

"But think what you have done for me!" exclaimed the Colonel. "You
have let me into the secret of the rose and the thorn."