ly!"

She plucked a bit of green from her cousin's coat sleeve before she
replied.

"I don't see how I could leave father and mother," she said softly.
"You wouldn't want to give up your home here and your father and
brothers to go and live with me."

"Yes, I would!" was the unexpected response. "I'd go in a minute!
Polly, I'd go anywhere or do anything for you!"

The boy believed it, and, looking into his earnest eyes, Polly almost
believed it, too. She did not know how to answer. Then she shifted the
viewpoint.

"But father and mother--you don't think of them! How could they get
along without any little girl?--without me?"

Harold thought and sighed. This was a new light on the matter.

"No, they couldn't," he admitted slowly. "They've known you longer
than I have, and I don't see how they could give you up. Well, I
suppose I shall have to let you go." He looked the disconsolate lover,
instead of the merry-hearted boy of ten.

Two weeks before, when Polly's small trunk had been packed, she had
begged to be allowed to take with her the parting present of Chris
Morrow, for hitherto there had been no occasion grand enough to
warrant its being used. At first Mrs. Dudley had been in doubt, but
after a few quite reasonable arguments on the part of Polly the little
case had been tucked into a safe corner. The beautiful ornament had
already fastened Polly's sash a number of times, and it was again
called into service for the home party. She was in a hurry when the
maid clasped it, for Harold was calling her to come out in the hall
and see the caterers bring the things in, and before the evening was
half spent her sash was trailing out of place and the pin missing.
Hastily she confided to her cousin her misfortune, and together they
searched up and down the rooms. Finally, just as Harold was starting
to tell Floyd of the loss, they heard a cry of surprise from one of
the guests not far away, and they saw that the pansy pin was in her
hand.

"I found it right down here!" the girl was saying excitedly. "Where do
you s'pose it came from? Oh, it's just like one my sister had that was
stolen by a burglar last winter--why!" as the back of the pin was
disclosed, "it is hers! There's the 'B' I scratched one day, and Tip
gave me an awful scolding for it! I was going to scratch my whole
name, but she caught me too quick--my, didn't she come at me!"

Harold waited for no more.

"It belongs to my cousin," he explained. "She