THE next morning Polly was at the door as usual when the letter-carrier came. She could not have told why. Certainly she did not expect a letter.

Mechanically she received the bunch of mail, mechanically she threw off the envelopes and papers, one by one, on the hall table. Then she stared. There was the familiar handwriting! The rest of the lot was dropped in an unsorted pile, and upstairs she sped with the letter from David. She locked her door and flew to the window-seat. This time she did not pause to note the lines of the superscription. She tore open the envelope with eager fingers.

My darling Polly: I suppose before this you have received that horrible letter that I wrote you when I was grass-green with jealousy. Throw it in the fire right now! Don’t, don’t ever read it again! I was an outrageous cad to write it, anyhow. But when Marietta and Doris came up here with that story, I was just beside myself. I dare say Doris put in plenty of touches of her own. Do write that you are not angry with me! Write the very next mail! It is unbelievable that I could send you such a thing—

Just my luck! The mail-boy is here, and not another chance to send to the office to-day! A longer letter to-morrow.

Always your own David

Polly read it over with a smile. Again, and the smile changed to a sigh. Once more, and sorrow came into her eyes.

How like David! Mad with jealousy one day, and wild with penitence the next! Why must it be so? Why couldn’t he trust her?

She drew a chair to her desk and made ready to write. Then she took out the letter of yesterday and looked it over; she read again the one just received; finally she dipped her pen in ink.

She wrote fast until she had filled a sheet. Pausing to read it through, she crushed it in her hand, tossed it into the waste-basket, and began another.

That went the way of the first, and a third was written. This appeared to bring more satisfaction, for she read it a second time.

Dear David: Your two letters have made me take a long look ahead, and in view of what I see there I have come to a decision. There is no use in our going on as we have been going for four or five years. I cannot bear it. I must live my life in my own way—I must be free, I must be myself.

You would put me in fetters of your own making. Instead of trusting me out in the world, you would keep me away from the world. In fact, you would make me a prim, silent, cold somebody else, whom in time you would cease to love because I should not be worth loving.

You do not trust me, no matter what I say. You know that I care for you more than for anybody else. Many times I have told you so; still, reiteration does no good, for you will not believe. I see no way but for us to give up our plans for a future together. Even friends must trust each other, and marriage without confidence means unhappiness for two.

Forever your friend

Polly May Dudley

As Polly expected, David resented the high stand she had taken, and his prompt answer consisted of alternate phrases of reproach and apology. His second letter, however, was milder in tone, gracefully acknowledging his mistakes, and agreeing, if she would give him one more chance, never again to cause her grief by any behavior such as he had been guilty of in the past.

After long debates between head and heart, the latter won the fight, and Polly wrote a letter which made David go gayly for a week.

Patricia’s father planned for her a birthday fÊte, ending with a dance, at the Illingworth Cottage at Samoosic Point, some seven miles from Fair Harbor. Invitations were sent out three days in advance, and Polly looked forward to a pleasant outing.

On the evening before the birthday she went over to see Lilith Brooks. Some arrangements were to be made for the next morning. She found her friend ready for a walk, and the two girls strolled off in the direction of green fields and fewer dwellings.

A car whizzed by, a roadster with yellow wheels. For months afterwards a yellow-wheeled roadster gave Polly a start. “Wh-why!” gasped Lilith, “that looks just like David!”

“It is,” said Polly quietly.

“I didn’t know he was here.” Lilith’s voice still held its astonishment.

“It is news to me,” laughed Polly; but the laugh did not sound true.

“Who was the girl? Could you tell?”

“I think it was Marietta Converse.”

“It is queer,” Lilith went on, glancing sidewise at her companion. “Do you suppose Marietta rode down from Camp Converse with him?”

Polly’s heart was repeating the same question. Then things began to right themselves. If both Marietta and David had errands in town it was only natural that they should come together.

When Polly returned home she found that David had been there.

“He said he would drive over to Lilith’s and bring you back,” said Mrs. Dudley.

“I came the short way, cut across the Blanchards’ yard,” explained Polly. “That’s why I didn’t meet him.”

“He seemed anxious to see you to-night, so he will probably be here soon. He is going back early in the morning.”

“Then he won’t stay for the party,” said Polly. “I thought maybe that is what brought him down.”

She repeated this to David himself. “No,” he replied indifferently, “I don’t train with that crowd. Are you going?”

“Of course,” Polly answered.

He looked at her keenly. “With whom?” he asked.

“With two or three of the girls, Lilith Brooks, for one.”

“In whose car?”

“I believe Russell Ely is going to drive.”

“Oh! I might have known,” he commented stiffly.

Polly laughed. “No, you mightn’t,” she returned. “Philip Lee was intending to take us, but they had unexpected company at home and their car was needed. That is why we are going with Russell. I don’t see why you can’t stay over and go with us.”

“Marietta wishes to return at once,” he said. “Besides, I don’t care for that sort of thing. I wonder that you do.”

“Why shouldn’t I? They are all my friends. I am sure it will be very pleasant.”

David nodded abstractedly. “There is something I wish to ask you,” he said slowly, and waited.

“I am listening.”

“Will you promise to do it?”

“I make no promises in the dark,” she laughed.

“I should think you might do one little favor for me,” he complained. “David, I am ready to do little things for you, or big things; but I cannot say positively that I will do this special thing without knowing what it is.”

“Well, then—will you, for my sake, stay away from that foolish party?”

A sudden flame in the girl’s eyes made David flinch.

“So that is why you came down from Camp Converse,” she said—“that!” Her low voice was tense with scorn. “You have shown me plainly—just—what—you are!”

With her first words she had sprung to her feet, and now she darted to the doorway.

“Polly! Wait! Wait!” cried David, putting out a hand.

But she eluded him and was on the stairs before he could reach her.

“Polly! Polly!” he called.

There was no answer, and he heard the door of her room shut with a click. It was quiet in the hall upstairs.

He hesitated a moment. Then he put on his hat in a bewildered way and passed out into the street.