any one if I can't have you, Polly." He was really miserable now, and
needed comfort, so she turned around and administered it as only Polly
could.

By the time the talk was over, she hurried off with a radiant face, and
Pickering with an expression only one remove from that of absolute
gloom, retraced his steps to lay one of "the lovely seats" for the
D'Albert concert, before Miss Rhys, for her acceptance.

Phronsie came slowly down the hall to meet Polly as usual; this day with
one of her company white gowns on. Polly always knew when these were
donned that something unusual was to be expected from the daily routine
of the household.

"Are you really and truly home, Polly?" asked Phronsie, taking the
music-roll to tuck it under her own arm.

"Yes, Pet;" Polly set a kiss on the red lips. "And I am as hungry as a
beaver, Phronsie."

"So you must be," said Phronsie, with a little sigh, "for you were so
long in coming home. Well, do hurry now, Polly." This last as Polly was
skipping over the stairs to her own room to freshen up a bit. Then
Phronsie turned into the dining-room to be quite sure that the butler
had made the belated luncheon as fine as Polly could desire it.

"She didn't ask why I had on this gown," mused Phronsie, softly
disposing again the flowers at Polly's plate, "and it's funny, I think,
for Polly always sees everything;" and she began to look troubled at
once.