When Polly opened her eyes the first thing she saw was James’ kindly face bending over her anxiously.

“Hullo!” he said encouragingly.

Polly sat up, feeling faint and dizzy. “What is it?” she faltered, trying to get upon her feet.

“Oh, nothing much,” replied James. “Nothing at all, in fact. Just, as far as I can make out, you thought you was the Limited an’ I was Chicago. You run in on schedule time, and no mistake. Why, you almost knocked me flat, the way you bolted in this door.”

His good-natured laugh gave Polly courage.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said in a firmer voice. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” returned the kind-hearted fellow. “I didn’t mind. I’d a got out of your way if I’d a known this was your busy day and you was in such a hurry, you know.”

He saw that the little girl was weak and trembling and though he did not know the cause, he wisely concluded the best plan was to keep her mind off the matter as long as he could.

So he chatted cheerfully on, meanwhile helping her to rise and guiding her to the dining-room where he offered her a couple of ladies’-fingers and a glass of raspberry juice to “sort-of give you an appetite for your luncheon,” he explained.

But, somehow, Polly’s head had begun to ache and she felt as if the room were rocking. She did not want anything to eat, she only wanted to lie down somewhere and go to sleep. Her eyelids drooped and her head nodded. James, thinking she might have had a bad fall, racked his brains for jokes that would be funny enough to keep her awake and he was just about to give up in despair when the bell rang and in came Hannah with Priscilla clinging to her hand while she clasped a pretty rag-doll to her bosom. Both were as white as paper. Priscilla was crying softly. Before James could open his lips Hannah gasped wildly:

“Polly! Whatever shall I do? She’s running the streets! She’ll get killed. If he catches her he’ll beat her, maybe! Oh, dear! the young ruffian! I was just coming out of the shop when I saw—— But she was off like a shot from a shovel and he after her. I couldn’t keep up with them, not if I’d been paid a million dollars for it, and in a minute they were out of sight. Oh, that poor child! Where is she now?” and Hannah wrung her hands.

James looked bewildered as well he might. “I haven’t the least notion what you’re talking about,” he said, “but I kind of dimly make out you’re worried about Polly. Well, you don’t need to be. She’s in the dining-room, all safe and sound, though a bit unsteady in the feet and dizzy in the head, by the looks of her.”

But Hannah had not waited to hear more than the words that told her Polly was safe. The next instant she was in the dining room with the little girl gathered tight in her arms. Polly tried to smile at her and at Priscilla who was gently patting her arms and whispering something that no one could hear, but she dared not keep her eyes open when the room whirled about so dizzily and Hannah had to call on James to carry her up-stairs and put her on the nursery lounge. It was while she was curled up there, sleeping off her fright and fatigue, with Priscilla sitting on guard beside her, that Hannah told James what had happened. She did not mind his frequent interruptions of “Good girl!” “First-rate!” “Hurrah for Polly!” for she was as excited over the adventure as he was, and was glad to have the child appreciated for her part in it. The story had to be gone over again from beginning to end for the benefit of Priscilla’s mother and Miss Cicely and when Polly woke it was to find herself famous. She was surprised and a little shamefaced at the praise she received. She could not see why they made so much of her. She had “just made that naughty boy give back Priscilla’s doll, that was all. Of course she knew he’d be mad when she boxed his ears, but a boy was a coward who made a little girl cry and he ought to be punished. Then, of course, she ran when he chased her and—and she snatched up his papers ’cause somehow, it came into her mind that if she took them he would forget about Priscilla’s doll. It was too bad she had scared Hannah. She would try not to worry her any more.”

Miss Cissy kissed her tenderly and so did Mrs. Duer, at which Polly felt as if she were a queen who had just been crowned. And that was the end of the affair as far as she knew.

Priscilla seemed to be thriving so splendidly that it was decided to leave the city much earlier than usual so she could spend the bright spring days entirely out of doors and get the good of the beautiful country air.

One morning toward the middle of April Hannah took Polly to the hospital to say good-bye to sister. Polly had often been there before, but to-day she found the invalid in a cheerful little sitting-room, with the sun streaming in at the window and violets and daffodils upon the table. It was all just as Hannah had said it would be, even to the white-capped nurses, “as neat as wax,” bringing sister lovely things to eat. Sister had been in bed when Polly was there before, but now to the little girl’s delight, she found her sitting up in a wheeled-chair and looking cheerful and happy in a dainty pink flannel robe with bows of ribbon on it and lace about the throat and wrists. Miss Cissy had brought it to her the day before.

“Why, you’re almost well,” cried Polly joyously.

Sister smiled. “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” she replied and hugged her little visitor to her with a sort of hungry look in her patient eyes.

“I guess you’ll be walking around before I know it almost,” quoted Polly eagerly, and sister nodded her head.

“So you are going off into the country,” she said quickly. “What fun you’ll have and how beautiful it will be to see the flowers blossoming and to hear the birds singing. The fields will all be green and there’ll be dandelions in them and daisies, and you must hunt for four-leafed clovers. Why, you ought to be the best girl in the world with so much good coming to you. She tries to do right, doesn’t she, Hannah? I’m glad. I knew she would. You’ll remember, won’t you, Polly, that sister wants you to tell the truth always; never to tell a falsehood. And you must be kind and generous to every one and cheerful too. There’s a little young mother here who has the cunningest baby! A tiny thing only a few months old; and she has made up a song to sing to it that goes like this:

I want my Polly to ‘hold her little head up, no matter how she feels,’ for that is the only brave way, you know.”

Polly felt a lump rising in her throat. “I’ll try,” she whispered.

Then Hannah brought out a basket packed full of dainties, which Mrs. Duer had sent, and nothing would do but they must have a tea-party, to which sister insisted upon inviting Polly, Hannah, the nurse and the mother of the “nice little baby.”

While Polly went to carry the invitations Hannah hurriedly asked, “You are better, though, aren’t you really? Oh, I hope so, miss.” Sister’s eyes brimmed with gratitude. “I hope so too,” she said hesitatingly. “The doctors are giving me a little rest now because they say I couldn’t stand any more pain for a while. I tried very hard to be courageous; ‘to bravely bear a deal,’ you know; ‘to hold my little head up no matter how I felt,’ but they say I’ll have to rest for a few weeks. By and by they are going to try again, and then, if my strength holds out, I may really get better. They say there is a chance—just think what that means! a chance that I may be able to walk again! It makes me too happy!”

Hannah caught up the basket and hid her face behind the cover, while she pretended to be very busy taking out the hidden goodies.

Polly thought that it was the jolliest tea-party in the world, though she, herself, ate hardly anything at all because she was so occupied with the wonderful mite of a baby which she was permitted to hold in her own arms, just as if she had been a grown-up woman. Its mother seemed to see at once that she was reliable and could be trusted, and that, in itself, was an honor to be proud of. The baby, too, seemed to have confidence in her new nurse, for she smiled and gurgled and blinked her eyes and did all the dear, ridiculous things that babies do, and then fell fast asleep in Polly’s lap, with her little hands clinched tight into two tiny fists, as if she meant to stand up and fight anybody who said she wasn’t the biggest and bravest baby in all the town.

“What’s her name?” whispered Polly at last when the mite was too sound asleep to be disturbed by her voice.

“She hasn’t got a name yet,” answered her mother. “No name seems quite pretty enough. Do you know of any name you think would be nice? What is the loveliest name you know?”

“I know lots,” returned Polly confidently. “There’s Hannah! Hannah is a fine name. And Ruth! Ruth is sister’s name. Then I think Edith is just sweet and Priscilla is most the grandest one I ever heard. But, I know the one I love the best—it’s Cicely! Did you ever hear of a handsomer name than Cicely? If you could call this baby Cicely I think it would be perfectly splendid.”

The little young mother did not answer at once. She seemed to be considering. But suddenly she gave a decided nod of her head. “Well then,” she announced firmly, “I’ll call the baby Cicely. I’m sure she’d like to be named by so good a little girl as you are. So Cicely she will be called, Cicely Bell. They go nicely together, don’t they, without any middle name to interfere? When she wakes I’ll tell her her name’s Cicely.”

“Whose name is Cicely?”

The entire tea-party turned around in confusion and there in the doorway stood Miss Cissy herself and just behind her a tall and very elegant gentleman.

“Dear me!” laughed she. “I hope we are not intruding. But please tell me, before we run away and leave you to yourselves again, whose name is Cicely?”

Polly seemed to be the only one who could find her tongue. “Why—why, the baby’s,” she cried eagerly. “Don’t you see her here in my lap? Mrs. Bell let me name her. And isn’t she the prettiest, cunningest baby in the world. See her tiny hands and her darling ears! And isn’t she good? She let me put her to sleep. Oh, if she hadn’t been the best baby she couldn’t have been named Cicely.”

Miss Cissy flushed with pleasure and amusement at the genuine compliment and coming forward knelt down before Polly’s knee.

“She is indeed a dear baby,” she said, taking one of the wee pink fists in hers and kissing it lightly. “And so you have really called her Cicely?”

Mrs. Bell nodded and murmured shyly, “Yes’m. Polly named her.”

“Well, that’s my name, you know, and if Polly gave it to her because it’s mine, of course she is my namesake, there’s no doubt about that.”

Little Mrs. Bell flushed and trembled. “Excuse me, miss,” she stammered faintly. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have made so bold. Indeed I wouldn’t.”

But Miss Cissy broke in on her apologies with a merry laugh. “Oh, pray don’t spoil the compliment,” she begged. “Why, I am as flattered and pleased as possible.”

The gentleman who had followed Miss Cissy into the room seemed almost as flattered and pleased as she. His face quite glowed with pride and Polly saw him draw an important looking leathern wallet from his inner coat pocket and bring out of it a shining gold piece. “May I shake hands with your young daughter?” he enquired of Mrs. Bell and when, almost dumb with astonishment and confusion she nodded shyly, he bent over the baby as Miss Cissy had done, took the mite’s hand in his and, uncurling the tiny fingers tried to close them around the wonderful coin, saying, as he did so, and too low for any but Polly to hear; “There! That’s for your name’s sake, my little woman.”

Polly wanted to jump for joy, but all she could do was to point silently to the treasure the little Cicely clutched at tightly with her wee, pink fingers, when her mother came to bear her away. Mrs. Bell was quite overcome by the baby’s good fortune and found it a difficult matter to make her way to the door. But she managed it somehow and nodded again happily and gratefully as Miss Cissy called after her:

“I shall not forget my little namesake, Mrs. Bell. She’ll hear from me every once in a while and I shall always want to learn how she is getting along. So, be sure to let me know where she is when you go away from here.”

The white-capped nurse slipped out with Mrs. Bell and then Hannah, also, made ready to go, but Miss Cissy detained her.

“I want Mr. Cameron to meet my Polly,” she explained. “I brought him with me to-day because I knew our patient was sitting up and I was certain she would not mind seeing a friend of mine.”

“Oh, no indeed!” murmured sister, flushing however a little. But her shyness melted away in a twinkling for if she had been the greatest lady in the land Mr. Cameron could not have shown her more deference and respect.

“Ah, he’s a true gentleman,” the little seamstress thought, and all the while he sat talking to Polly, she was building beautiful castles in the air in which a certain lovely young princess named Miss Cicely was to “live happy ever after” with a certain handsome young prince, her husband, whose name was—well, whatever Mr. Cameron’s happened to be.

“A penny for your thoughts,” announced Miss Cissy mischievously bending forward and peering up at sister with eyes full of fun.

Sister’s cheeks flushed guiltily. “Oh, I was just having a pretty day-dream,” she replied. “I hope it will come true.”

Miss Cicely’s eyes grew soft and bright. “I think I know what the dream is,” she said, “and I also hope it will come true. I think it will come true. In fact, I came here to-day to tell you about it, though it is to be kept a secret from others for a while. But you are a privileged person and I thought it would interest you and I wanted to say that when the dream does come true you are to have a part in it, my dear.”

This time it was sister’s eyes that grew soft and bright, seeing which Miss Cissy began to chatter very fast.

“Don’t you want me to tell you a story?” she asked. “Well, I intend to do it anyway. Once upon a time there was a dear little uncomplaining woman who was so dutiful and kind that every one loved and respected her. She kept her wee bit of a home in apple-pie order and she taught her little sister to be as dutiful and good and uncomplaining as she was. It was mighty difficult, I can tell you, to be dutiful and good and uncomplaining where that little woman lived, for it was in a great wilderness of a place where there were wolves that it was almost impossible to keep from the door. But the little woman, by working early and late, managed to fight them off and she never complained. Then one day a great, cruel tyrant came and said: ‘Hark, little woman! My name is Pain. I am going to chain you to this chair. Now will you complain?’

“But the little woman shook her head. Then as the days grew cold and bleak a great wolf came and howled hungrily at her door. ‘Let me in! Let me in!’ And still the little woman shook her head and did not complain. Then up sprang the small sister crying: ‘I’m not very big to be sure, but I think I can help keep that wolf from our door if you will let me try. He’s a great nuisance and ought to be put away. I’m sure some one will get hurt if he’s allowed to stay where he is, even if he doesn’t eat us both up beforehand.’

“This was so sensible that the little woman consented to let small sister take a hand in the fight. She gave her a heart full of courage and many other splendid weapons for use in such struggles and, do you believe it? Small sister actually did help to keep that wolf at a distance. Them one day the story of all this came to the ears of a person——”

“No, a princess,” corrected sister.

“I’m afraid not,” objected Miss Cicely. “I’m afraid she was only a person; well, one day the story of all this came to the ears of a person who said to herself, ‘dear me! these two ladies are just precisely the ones I have been searching for. They can teach me ever so many things I don’t know, and if they will only consent to it, I think I’d like to begin a course of instruction under them at once.’ So she carried them off quite out of the wolf’s reach, for she was a very strong, athletic person, and watched them closely and little by little she really did begin to learn of them. Oh, I can’t begin to tell you the number of things they taught her, but one was to distinguish between real and make-believe people. Where she lived there were a great many make-believe people; in fact, she just escaped being one herself, though please don’t mention it. But as she grew wiser she learned to tell the difference between the real thing and the make-believers, and that changed her whole life, for it seemed, there were two suitors for her hand and as both were dressed exactly alike she hadn’t been able to tell them apart and hadn’t known at all which one was real and which only make-believe. But after she had taken several lessons of the little woman and small sister she searched for the heart of one of them and, to her horror, found he hadn’t any, that he was just a poor make-believer dressed up in fine clothes. And then she searched for the heart of the other and there it was all safe and sound! the jolliest, biggest, truest one you ever saw, only his fine clothes hid it from every one who hadn’t clear enough eyes to see. Well, of course that settled it. The person said: ‘Yes’ to the real-one-with-the-heart and they are going to live happy ever after, unless I’m much mistaken. But you needn’t think the story ends there. The little woman is going to be rescued from her awful tyrant and is going to be quite free to come and go as she chooses. Then the person and the real-one-with-the-heart are going to take her with them—over the hills and far away, and she is to study in books as she longs to do, and is to hear music and see pictures and grow, oh! very wise and learned; only, for my part, I don’t believe she can learn anything better than what she knows already which is to be dutiful and kind and uncomplaining and—well, that’s the beginning of the end of the story, and I think it’s almost the best of all.”

By the looks of her, sister did too, for when Mr. Cameron and Polly managed to glance up from the mazes of the wonderful cat’s-cradle they were weaving, they were surprised to see the change that had come over her face. All the traces of pain and care were gone and it was as glad and as young as Polly’s own.