“Surely she was not afraid of me!”

“I don’t know,” replied Polly dissatisfiedly and with emphasis.  “It really seems sometimes as if she were.”

“There must have been some tremendous lying,” he mused.  “They gave me messages purporting to come from Miss Sterling.  Why should she be singled out in this way?” He looked across at Polly, as if he expected her to answer the question.

The red in her cheeks grew redder.  She remembered the reason David had given.

“I think it is no uncommon thing for the ladies not to get their telephone messages,” she replied evasively.  “That was one reason why Mrs. Dick ran away with the milkman.  She was so upset at not receiving an invitation to a wedding that had been sent her by telephone.”

“It is high time that something was done!” The president lifted his little elephant and brought it down hard.  “We have been inexcusably blind!”

“I wish Miss Twining could have some good doctor,” ventured Polly.

“She shall!” he promised.  “Be patient for a few days, and I will hurry up things as fast as practicable.  You say she is a little better?”

“Mrs. Albright thinks so.  She is over her scare a little.  Dr. Gunnip frightened her half to death!  He won’t let her try to get up.  Don’t you hate Dr. Gunnip?”

Mr. Randolph smiled.  “I don’t know him personally,” he replied.  “I never thought I should want him for a physician.”  He shook his head musingly.

“I will lay the matter before the trustees and managers at once,” he said, as Polly rose to go.  “I need not ask you,” he went on, “to be whist about this, since I have proof that you can keep a secret under trying conditions.  I thank you more than you will ever know.”

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON

Juanita Sterling moved restlessly about her room, doing this and that which had no need of being done.  It was a mild day for late September, and she thought of a walk.  No, it was nearly time for the afternoon mail, she would wait.  If she could only get a note from Polly—­or from David!  One of Polly’s notes had never reached the third-floor comer room!  Since that, notes had been conceded to be dangerous.  How she missed Polly’s visits!  She wondered now if Polly’s interview with Mr. Randolph were really over.  That report could not be entrusted to paper.  She wished that her windows were on the front.  She might go into Mrs. Albright’s room—­no, she had better remain at home, somebody might come.  She took a book and sat down in the easiest chair; but her thoughts were not on the printed page.  She slammed it back in its place with a mutter of scorn—­scorn for herself.

“Shall I ever stop thinking—­of him!”

Meantime, downstairs, the front doorbell had rung.  Miss Sniffen answered it.  She usually answered the bell nowadays.