James followed leisurely after in the path Polly had taken, mopping his perspiring forehead and thinking uncomplimentary things about the weather.

“Yes, children don’t mind runnin’ when it’s ninety-four in the shade,” he observed, “but as for me, you don’t catch me hurryin’ myself to-day, not for nothin’ nor nobody. Hark! What’s that?”

A sharp, piercing, frantic cry tore the stillness into echoes and went resounding down the length of the gorge. The butler paused an instant; the cry was repeated again and again. Without more ado he started into a fierce run that brought him, in no time at all, to the threshold of Pine Lodge where, peering in, he saw Polly crouching on the further bench, leaning over the ledge and uttering shriek after shriek for help. He sprang to her side with a bound, gave one quick glance into the gloom of the ravine below and then, with a warning “Hush!” to her and an encouraging nod and smile to the white face turned toward him from a tangle of brush and gnarled roots upon the bank beneath, wheeled about and, like a flash, disappeared around the side of the summer-house.

Polly caught her breath in a queer, gulping sob. After what seemed to her like ages of time help had come! Now if Priscilla could but keep her hold upon that bare pine-tree root to which she was clinging! If the bare pine-tree root would not give way beneath her grasp! In some miraculous way she had escaped plunging headlong to the bottom of the gorge. Her fall had been broken by the tangle of wild bushes and the undergrowth of strong young saplings lining the bank, and in the quick second in which she felt the earth beneath her again she had managed to brace herself and cling to a supporting root. But her strength was almost gone and Polly could see that in a moment more her slender courage must give way. Would James never come? Why had he not leaped right over the side of the Lodge and reached Priscilla that way? It would have been quicker. Surely it would have been quicker! But James knew what he was about, if Polly did not. He had seen at a glance that the weight of a heavier body might readily dislodge the insecure rocks and earth that were serving to support the little girl and that his only safe course was to skirt the Lodge, go to a farther point of the bank and, by slipping and sliding down, as best he might, reach the bottom of the ravine and rescue Priscilla from below. It was, in reality, but a few seconds before Polly saw him again, swinging himself over the little rail that fenced in the bank, and dropping carefully down, down from rock to rock to the bed of the shallow stream that flowed at the base of the gorge. Once at the bottom he was less impeded. In a twinkling he had reached the point where Priscilla hung, had found a firm foothold, and was urging her to drop into one of his strong arms while he clung to the supporting roots of a towering pine with the other. Polly watched him with straining eyes.

“Don’t be afraid! Drop!” commanded James encouragingly.

Whether Priscilla heard him or not Polly could not tell, but the frantic grasp of her little fingers around the root did not relax and her white face and wide-open eyes stared up blindly from out of the soft gloom below without a trace of life in them. “Don’t be afraid! Drop!” repeated James.

He drew himself up an inch or two higher and flung his strong arm tight about her. It was not an instant too soon for, with a sudden, sharp snap and crack of sundering wood the half-rotten root she clung to gave way beneath her gripping fingers. The sound of it and the feeling that she had lost her support, seemed the only things she had reason enough left to realize. With a long, low cry of despair her arms dropped to her sides and her eyelids closed upon her staring eyes.

James’ strong arm was firm and steady; he held her close. Polly breathlessly watched him as, inch by inch, he descended the bank to the bottom of the gorge and then carefully picked his way along to the far point where a flight of wooden steps, securely fastened to the rock, led up the terrace beyond.

Then, for the first time the thought flashed into Polly’s mind, “What would Priscilla’s mother say?”

She slid down to the floor, forgetful of dolls, play-toys and everything else, and ran blindly back to the house. Her flying feet brought her to the entrance before James, with his little burden, had fairly reached the terrace.

“Hannah! Oh, Hannah!” she called out, as soon as she had crossed the door-sill and was actually within the hall.

Hannah hurried to her from the living-room, alarmed by her terror-stricken voice.

“What on earth is it, child? For pity’s sake what’s happened now?”

“Oh, Hannah!” Polly panted, “Priscilla! It’s Priscilla! She—she—— We were in Pine Lodge and she fell over into the ravine and James has got her—he’s bringing her in now, I guess. Oh, Hannah! Hannah—— She was alive! But her eyes shut when the root broke and now I’m afraid she’s——”

“Hush, Polly!” commanded Hannah sternly. “Stop your crying. Mrs. Duer mustn’t hear you. She mustn’t know—yet. You say James has got her? Oh, here he is! Give her to me, James! Quick, quick, man! How slow you are!”

“Go easy, Hannah!” the young man said. “She’s all right. Don’t get upset! She’s got a few bruises, no doubt, and her hands are torn a bit, but she’ll pull through all right when she comes out of this faint and has time to get over the shock and the fright of it.”

But Hannah hardly heard him. She gathered her darling into her arms with a sort of savage eagerness, and, puffing and panting with the exertion and the heat, carried her up-stairs into her mother’s room and closed the door. Polly dared not follow.

Oh, the wretched hours that passed before the doctor came! And the miserable hours that passed while he was there! That closed door seemed to shut Polly out from all the brightness and joy of the world and she felt she would never, never, never be happy again. Midday came, but no one wanted to eat. The dreary afternoon crawled slowly past and the great red sun began to sink. Polly could not swallow her supper; James had to carry it away again almost untasted.

“Don’t you go to being so down-hearted,” he said, kindly. “Little Miss Priscilla is coming out all right, never you fear. She’s had an ugly shock, but she’ll get over it by and by and be as right as a trivet again.”

“Oh, James, do you really think so?” Polly cried, longing to be comforted.

“Sure!” responded the butler cheerfully.

Late that night Hannah, stealing noiselessly up-stairs was surprised to hear Polly’s voice softly calling to her through the dark.

“Hannah! is that you?”

“Yes, Polly. Why aren’t you asleep, child?”

“I don’t know. How’s Priscilla?”

“Well, to tell the truth, the doctor isn’t ready to say. He isn’t worryin’ much about her bruises, but—but—well, we’ll have to wait, that’s all. She’s got considerable fever and the fright won’t leave her. She drops asleep for a minute or two and then starts up wide awake and shrieking with terror. She can’t get any rest, poor lamb. It’s that that makes us most anxious. Of course we don’t take for truth anything she says in this state, but it’s curious how contrary-minded people get when they’re not quite themselves. She has an idea you’re trying to hurt her and she cries out to us not to let you come into the room. I’ve told her mother over and over again you wouldn’t see a hair of Priscilla’s head harmed and you wouldn’t, now would you, Polly?”

Hannah paused a moment for Polly’s answer, but when none came she went on consolingly, “I’ve told Mrs. Duer not to mind the foolish things Priscilla says, for it isn’t believable that you would lay hands on her to shake her or that it was because of a falling-out you had that she fell over the side of the lodge. Only, you see, Polly, while Priscilla’s head is like this and she has such foolish sick fancies it wouldn’t do to excite her and so you’ll just have to keep out of the way for a while, and not fret to go to her. When she’s up and about again it’ll be all right, but for the present it’s pretty hard on us all—the waiting. Now, go to sleep, like a good girl and to-morrow you shall tell just how it all happened. You’re not to blame, I’m sure, Polly, but it will be better all round for you to let Mrs. Duer know the right of the case and that Priscilla’s saying you shook her and was the cause of her fall, is just something she’s dreaming and that it isn’t really true at all.”

Then, with a tired “Good-night! Now go to sleep like a good girl,” and without waiting for more, Hannah left the room to return to Priscilla, and Polly was left in the darkness and the silence again.

The big clock in the corner ticked out the seconds with slow distinctness; a little screech-owl in the branches of the big oak-tree just beyond the window repeated its dismal, quivering call. Polly buried her face in the pillows and trembled. She had thought she was unhappy before, when Priscilla’s sickness was the only weight upon her heart. But now there was a worse one added to that. The knowledge that she would be held responsible for the accident and whatever resulted from it.

Poor Polly! She had quite forgotten the little tiff of the morning but now it came back to her with cruel clearness for Hannah’s words showed plainly enough that Priscilla had not forgotten. What could she say the next morning when Mrs. Duer should ask her if what Priscilla said was true? For what Priscilla said was true: Polly could not deny it. It was true Polly had shaken Priscilla and Priscilla “to pay her back” it appeared, had leaned over the ledge of the Lodge. She saw it all now. So it was true also that Priscilla’s fall was somehow due to Polly’s temper. It all seemed very terrible and confusing and hopeless. She knew in her heart that she was not utterly to blame and yet—and yet she could not reason out her excuse and she could not explain. She heard the clock strike “Twelve!”—“one”—“two”—and then, at last, worn out and thoroughly miserable she fell asleep and slept until long after her usual time for rising.

This morning there was no kindly Hannah to oversee her bath; no friendly Priscilla to frolic with. Everything was lonely, still, and discouraging. She ate her breakfast in silence and then wandered off to the nursery window and gazed out disconsolately into the blinding brightness of the sunny grounds below. Presently she heard the sound of wheels crunching on the gravel of the driveway and saw the doctor’s carriage swing briskly around the sweep in front of the house. She slipped quickly down-stairs and flew breathlessly out into the vestibule, just in time to meet Dr. Crosby on his way into the hall.

“Good-morning, little lady!” he said genially, resting a kind hand for a moment upon her shoulder and looking narrowly into her pale, anxious, tear-stained face. “And how do you do this fine, hot morning?”

Polly nodded gratefully and tried to say, “Very well, I thank you,” but could not quite accomplish it. The doctor saw she had something upon her mind and patiently waited to learn what it was. At last she was able to speak.

“Priscilla,” she stammered. “Is Priscilla going to—going to—be worse?”

“Why, bless your heart, no,” Dr. Crosby replied promptly. “On the contrary Priscilla is going to be better very soon, quite well, in fact. When I left her at four o’clock this morning she was sleeping soundly, and if she has rested well ever since, we’ll have her up and about in no time. So don’t be down-hearted, child. I suppose you are the Polly Priscilla has had so much to say about, and you’re fretting because she has sick notions and doesn’t want to see you? Pooh, pooh! never mind that! We’ll send her away somewhere for a few weeks for a change, and by the time she comes back she will have forgotten all about it and you’ll be as good friends as ever,” and with that, and an encouraging pat upon the head, the good-hearted doctor hurried up-stairs.

Polly crept back to the nursery only half-comforted. Priscilla might be better and, if she were, of course, that would be an immense relief, but in the meantime she was angry at Polly and would have to be taken away before she would get over it.

Presently there were the sounds of opening and closing doors on the floor below; the doctor’s cheery voice was raised in a jovial laugh, and, after a moment, Hannah came up-stairs looking tired and hollow-eyed, to be sure, but still smiling and happy.

“Thanks be to God,” she said reverently, “the child is better. She’s had five hours of steady sleep, and the rest has done her a world of good. She’s her own dear, quiet little self again.”

“Then I can go to her?” cried Polly, springing up eagerly. “She isn’t angry at me any more, now she’s better?”

Hannah hesitated. “Well, I can’t say exactly that,” she replied. “I asked her if she didn’t want to see you and she shook her head. It’s just a whim of course, but it wouldn’t do to force her against her will while she’s so weak, so you’ll just have to wait patiently till she comes around of herself. Meanwhile Mrs. Duer wants to have you come to her in the living-room. There, there, child! don’t look like that! You’ve nothing to fear. Just keep up a brave heart, answer her questions truthfully and don’t cry, or tire her with a long story. She hasn’t slept a wink all night and she needs rest as much as Priscilla does, so be quick about what you have to say; only speak when you’re spoken to and leave her to catch a nap if she can.”

How she got down to the living-room door Polly did not know. The brave heart Hannah had bade her keep up must have sunk to the region of her shoes, for her feet were as heavy as lead and her left side felt quite sickeningly empty and hollow. She managed to give the door a gentle tap, and when Mrs. Duer’s gentle voice said, “Come in!” she crossed the threshold.

“Good-morning, Polly!” said Priscilla’s mother kindly from where she lay on the couch by the open French windows.

“Good-morning!” responded Polly from between two stiffened lips.

“Come over here, dear, and sit upon this cushion beside me. I want to ask you a few questions about yesterday. I’m sure you can answer them satisfactorily. There! That is right! Now, you know, dear, Priscilla had a serious shock yesterday, and for a number of hours she was not responsible for what she said. She said strange things which we do not believe are true. I’m sure, for instance, that you would not refuse to get her doll for her if she asked you to do so.”

Polly did not answer.

“You did not refuse to get her doll for her, did you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Duer.”

Mrs. Duer’s pale cheeks flushed a little. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m very sorry and disappointed, Polly. That was not like you; it was hardly kind, I think. But I am quite confident you did not shake Priscilla because she continued to ask you to get her doll after you had refused. Tell me, dear, you did not shake Priscilla?”

“Yes, Mrs. Duer.”

For a second or two the room was very quiet. Polly was having a mighty struggle with herself. Hannah had told her only to speak when she was spoken to, and yet she knew that her answers to Mrs. Duer’s questions, truthful though they were, did not give a just account of the trouble between her and Priscilla. There was something amiss somewhere that she could not straighten out.

Mrs. Duer, meanwhile, was struggling on her side to conquer the feeling that had grown in her against this ungrateful little girl for whom she had done so much.

At length she spoke again.

“I am very sorry and very much disappointed, Polly. I never could have believed that you would grieve me so. To raise your hand against gentle little Priscilla, who is so delicate and who loved you so much! Well, child, I suppose you did not realize what you were doing, and you certainly look as if you had suffered for your fault. Still, I do not feel as if I could ever trust you again with my little girl.”

Then somehow, in spite of Hannah, in spite of everything, Polly’s self-control gave way. “I wasn’t to blame! I wasn’t to blame!” she cried chokingly, over and over again.

Mrs. Duer sighed. “I am willing to believe you did not mean to be to blame,” she admitted patiently. “But now I want to tell you that I have decided to take Priscilla away for a while. She needs a change and it will be better for you both to be separated for the present. Hannah will go with me, but you can stay on here while we are gone, at least, and Theresa will look after you. I am sure you will be a good and obedient child and do just as she tells you, so that I shall not have to be anxious on your account while I am absent. You have been honest in confessing the truth and so I am willing to believe you will keep your promise if you give me your word you will be good and obedient while I am away and will do as Theresa tells you. Will you, Polly?”

“Yes, Mrs. Duer.”

“You will not go outside the gates unless Theresa goes with you?”

“No, Mrs. Duer.”

“And you will remember your promise to obey her absolutely?”

“Ye-es, Mrs. Duer.”

“Very well. Now I think you may go up-stairs, or out under the trees to play, or anywhere within the grounds that you choose.”

But Polly still lingered, trying to utter the words that were catching so cruelly in her throat.

Mrs. Duer wondered a little why she did not start.

“May I—may I——”

“May you what?”

“May I go back to—to the—store again, please?”

“To the store? I don’t understand.”

“Where I was when Miss Cissy came. Mr. Phelps—he’s the superintendent—said I—he would take me back any time. He said I was a trustable—he said I was a good cash-girl and—and—— I’d like to go, if you don’t mind,” Polly murmured in broken breaths.

Mrs. Duer raised herself upon her elbow. “Ah, but I do mind,” she replied instantly. “On no consideration can you go back. In the first place you would have nowhere to stay—your sister at the hospital could not have you—and then,—but it is quite out of the question and we won’t discuss it further.”

Polly turned slowly and went toward the door. She had to grope her way because of the blur before her eyes that shut out everything, but at last she managed to lay her hand upon the knob and to turn it. The next moment she was in the cool, dim hall and the next—she had hung herself face downward on the great tiger-skin upon the polished floor and was crying as if her heart would break. No one saw her; no one heard her.

Mrs. Duer in the living-room was trying to rest. Priscilla was dozing in the darkened bedchamber up-stairs, with Hannah on guard and James was carrying down from the attic the trunks and traveling-bags that would be needed for the journey, and whistling cheerfully beneath his breath as he did it, for Mrs. Duer had told him he might take the occasion of her absence to go upon a little trip of his own and he was looking forward to his holiday as eagerly as if he had been a boy.

But in the midst of her misery Polly remembered the absurd little rhyme sister had repeated to her that last day at the hospital:

She scrambled to her feet in a twinkling, brushed away her tears and returned to the nursery where she busied herself setting her writing-desk in order and rearranging the articles upon her table. She put the fragments of her shattered bank into the table-drawer after vainly trying to fit them together again. It was the first bank she had ever owned and she reflected sadly that it would probably be the last. For surely what Mrs. Duer had meant a little while ago was that she did not wish Priscilla to play with her any more. And if Priscilla was not to play with her any more then—then—why then she would be sent away. She wondered what sister would say; and dear Miss Cicely! how grieved and disappointed she would be. And yet, if Miss Cicely were here Polly felt she could make her understand the things she could not explain to Mrs. Duer—the things that would show she was not so entirely blamable as she seemed. Yes, Miss Cicely would certainly understand. As for Hannah——

Good Hannah found an opportunity, in the midst of all her hurry and worry, to run up-stairs to the nursery for a minute, just before bedtime and to say in a confidential whisper:

“There now, Polly, don’t you go to fretting yourself to skin and bone over this. Just you keep still and be good and it will all come out right in the end.”

“But Hannah, oh, Hannah,” Polly groaned. “Priscilla’s angry at me, and she stays angry. And Mrs. Duer said she couldn’t trust me any more.”

“Well, well, it’s hard, I know, but all the same, be a good girl and I warrant things will come out right in the end. We won’t be gone so very long and when we come back who knows what may happen.”

So Polly went to sleep with a more hopeful heart than she had carried for many hours and the next morning she watched the travelers depart with what was almost a smile of contentment, for was she not going to be the best and most obedient of girls while they were gone, so that when they came back—who knew what might happen?