and then sat
down in his lounging-chair, pulling Polly to his knee.

"I want to know more about that Aunt Jane of yours," he began.
"Was you mother her sister, or--"

"Oh, no, she was n't!" Polly interrupted. "Mamma was an only
child, just like me."

"And your father--did he have brothers or sisters?"

"I don't know," she answered slowly.

"He died when I was three years old. I can only just remember
him."

"Do you recollect what Aunt Jane's name was before she married?
Was it May?"

Polly shook her head doubtfully. "I can't seem to think," she
mused. "Oh! I guess it was Carter, 'cause she's always saying
that Maude is clear Carter, just like her folds, and Marcus is all
Simpson, like Uncle Gregory."

"What was you mother's maiden name, her name when she was a
girl?" the Doctor next questioned.

"Phebe Illingworth. Grandma Illingworth was her mother. She
lived with us. She died the year before mamma did."

"Thistledown," went on the Doctor, "some of my questions may
sound rude, but it is important that I know a little more than I
ever have known of your family history. I think you told me that
your mother gave piano lessons."

"Yes, and grandma gave lessons on the violin and guitar, and
singing lessons too."

"And what became of the piano and other musical instruments?"
asked the Doctor quickly.

"I think Aunt Jane sold them. She sold 'most everything. Some
of the furniture she's got now."

"Was it nice furniture?"

"I think it was lovely. There was a beautiful sideboard--that
was grandma's--with carved birds on it, and the wood was light
brown--kind of yellowish--and so pretty!"

"Was that sold?"

Polly nodded sadly.

"Did you mother ever go to the bank, do you remember?"

"Oh, yes, she did! She used to carry a little book."

"Did you always have plenty of money to use--for food and
clothes and so on?"

"I guess so. We had nice things to eat, and pretty things to
wear."

"You never heard of any will, I suppose?"

The curls shook slowly.

"Your mother was not sick long, was she?" the Doctor asked
gently.

"She was never sick. She was giving a music lesson, one
afternoon, and she fainted away--they could n't make her
live." The sorrowful voice softened almost to a whisper, and the
golden head drooped to Dr. Dudley's shoulder.

He touched his lips to the white forehead, and tightened his clasp
of the slender little form.

"I am sorry enough to have to bring all this ba