elcome her. But in her heart she
knew this was false reasoning, and with a catch in her breath she sat
down by her small writing desk, and pulled out paper and envelopes.

It was some minutes before she started to write.

DEAR UNCLE MAURICE,--

I thought when you were here and when I was in New York that
I could never accept your invitation to come and live with
you. But I have changed my mind--no, I have not exactly
changed my mind, because I don't want to go as bad as ever--

"I'm afraid that isn't very polite," Polly thought ruefully, drew a
deep sigh, and took a fresh sheet.

DEAR UNCLE MAURICE,--

When you were here, last spring, I thought I could not ever
come to live with you, but now it seems best for me to
accept your invitation. Perhaps you don't want me by this
time, and if you don't, please say so, because it won't make
any difference to me--I mean I shall be glad not--

Polly stopped suddenly. That would never do. She put the sheet aside,
and began anew.

DEAR UNCLE MAURICE,--

I wonder if you still want me to come and live with you.
Because if you do, I will--

At the fatal word, Polly's lip quivered, her pen turned, and a big
splash of ink fell right in the middle of the fair page. She didn't
care. There were other splashes, too. Tears were sprinkling the paper
and blotting her lines.

"Oh, I--can't go!--I can't!--I can't!" she sobbed softly.

Presently she grew quiet, courage came back, determination
strengthened. She began again to write. But tears brimmed her eyes and
spoilt the letter once more. It was disheartening work.

At last the sorry words were down, and Polly felt that all happiness
for this world was over.

"I hope I shall die quick," she said to herself. "Then I can go and
live with mamma."

She swallowed hard. Even the prospect of Heaven was poor consolation
just now.

With great painstaking she directed the envelope and placed the stamp.
She could not bring herself to seal it; that could wait until the last
moment. It seemed to her she should then be irrevocably bound to do
the thing she had promised. It would be the final link in this
dreadful chain.

A passing glance in the small mirror sent her to bathe her hot,
tear-stained face before venturing down to the letter-box on the
corner. She dallied with the towel until there was no further excuse,
she brushed her hair into unaccustomed smoothne