But here the dinner gong put an end to a subject of much interest.

CHAPTER VII.

THE GROWN-UPS.

In the evening Polly had her interview with her father. Dr. Maybright
had gone through a long and fatiguing day; some anxious cases caused him
disquiet, and his recent sorrow lay heavily against his heart. How was
the father of seven daughters, and two very scampish little sons, to
bring them up alone and unaided? How was a man's own heart to do without
the sympathy to which it had turned, the love which had strengthened,
warmed, and sustained it? Dr. Maybright was standing by the window,
looking out at the familiar garden, which showed shadowy and indistinct
in the growing dusk, when Polly crept softly into the room, and, going
up to his side, laid her pretty dimpled hand on his arm.

"Now, father," she said, eagerly, "about the housekeeping? I'm all
prepared--shall we go into the subject now?"

Dr. Maybright sighed, and with an effort roused himself out of a reverie
which was becoming very painful.

"My little girl," he said, pushing back the tumbled hair from Polly's
sunshiny face. Then he added, with a sudden change of manner, "Oh, what
a goose you are, Polly--you know as much about housekeeping as I do,
and that is nothing at all."

"I wouldn't make bold assertions," replied Polly, saucily--"I wouldn't
really, father dear; I couldn't cure a sick person, of course not, but I
could make a very nice cake for one."

"Well, let's go into the matter," said the Doctor moving to his study
table. "I have a quarter of an hour to give you, my dear, then I want to
go into the village to see Mrs. Judson before she settles for the night;
she has a nasty kind of low fever about her, and her husband is anxious,
so I promised to look in. By the way, Polly, don't any of you go nearer
the Judsons' house until I give you leave; walk at the other side of the
village, if you must go there at all. Now, my dear, about this
housekeeping. Are you seriously resolved to force your attentions upon
us for a week? We shall certainly all be most uncomfortable, and severe
attacks of indigestion will probably be the result. Is your heart set on
this, Polly, child? For, if so--well, your mother never thwarted you,
did she?"

"No, father, never--but don't talk of mother, for I don't think I can
bear it. When I was with mother somehow or other, I don't know why, I,
never wished for anything she did not like."

"Just so, my dear chi