o wish you
could have known mamma. She was such a dear!"

"I am glad to have so close a friendship with her little
daughter," smiled the Doctor.

Light raps at the door made Polly slip to her feet, and sent Dr.
Dudley across the room. Polly hurriedly brushed away the only
remaining tear, and looked up to greet Miss Hortensia Price.

The nurse had come to talk with Dr. Dudley about a patient, and
Polly went over to the couch, and searched among the parcels for a
certain package. Her fingers trembled with joyous excitement.
The world had suddenly turned rose color. Every sorrow had flown
away. Even the grief which had been ever present with her for
nearly three years was for the moment swallowed up in the joy of
believing that mamma knew! She came upon the package she sought,
examined it carefully to make sure that it was the right one, and
then went, a little shyly, to Miss Price. She waited for Dr.
Dudley stopped talking.

The lady received the holiday-attired parcel with a surprised
look.

"Mrs. Jocelyn bought some presents," explained Polly, "for me to
give to my friends, a I chose Robert Browning's 'Poems' for you.
I hope you'll like it."

"Like it! Why, you dear child!" Miss Price dropped the book in
her lap, and caught Polly's hands in hers. "How did you ever
guess that Browning is my favorite poet?"

"You said so, one day, when we were playing Authors, up in the
ward."

"And you remembered!" She began untying the ribbon. "I was
thinking only yesterday that I must have a copy."

The volume was richly bound, and beautiful with illustrations.
Miss Price fingered it with the caressing tough of a booklover.
If her thanks were a bit conventional, Polly knew that back of
them lay real gratitude and appreciation.

The little girl went back to her parcels with an added gladness.
She began piling them on her arm.

"Don't carry too many," warned Dr. Dudley. "I'll take them up
for you."

"I will bring some along when I come." Promised Miss Price.

So Polly put back all but two dolls and a few small packages, and
started upstairs humming softly a gay little air.

Presently the song was hushed by happy thoughts. To think of
living in a dear little cottage, all alone with Miss Lucy and Dr.
Dudley! To sit down at the table, three times a day, with them
both! And at bedtime! There was never room for jealousy in
Polly's heart; but sometimes when Miss Lucy cuddled the little
ones in her arms, her mo