npleasant channel, with the
result that when she returned to school things had regained a little
of their accustomed brightness, and she was ready to smile a greeting
to her friends.

But this happier mood vanished with the opening of the door into the
school dressing-hall.

A group of girls were removing their wraps, among which was Ilga
Barron. Two of them nodded carelessly to Polly, and then went on
talking in low tones, with side glances towards the new-comer. Polly
hurried off her coat and hat, but before they were on their hook Ilga
broke out in a loud whisper, plainly intended to carry across the
hall:--

"Dr. Dudley don't know much anyway! He's got a sister that's an
idiot--a real idiot! They have to keep her shut up!"

Even Ilga herself, turning to gloat over the effect of her words, was
so startled that she led the way quickly upstairs to the school room,
leaving Polly standing there alone, her horrified brown eyes staring
out of a colorless face.

"What in the world's the matter?" cried Glen Stewart, appearing in the
outer doorway, at the head of a string of girls. "Are you sick?"

"No--yes--oh, I don't know!" she stammered, catching her breath
piteously.

They clustered around her, distressed and helpless.

"Are you faint? I'll get you a drink!" And Lilith Brooks ran to fetch
a glass.

Polly drank the water, grateful for the kindness, although she was
aware of neither faintness nor thirst. Presently she went upstairs
with her friends, and the long, dragging afternoon session began.

Several times her recitations were halting, once woefully incorrect.
The teacher in charge was about to reprove her for inattention; but
the wide, sorrowful eyes made an unconscious appeal, and the blunder
was suffered to pass unnoticed.

Polly was glad with a dreary kind of gladness when the hour of
dismission came, and she hurried away by herself, intent only on a
refuge where she should be alone and could think things out. She found
the kitchen door locked and the key in its accustomed hiding-place;
so she let herself in, knowing that her mother was not at home. Up in
her own room she sat down by the low side window, and looked out on
the bare landscape of early December.

Aimlessly she let her eyes wander over the desolate garden of the next
house, so recently robbed of all its greenery; then the muslin-draped
windows opposite came within her vision. The caroling canary, in his
little gilded prison, caught a