“Never!”

Polly stared at her friend in dismay.  “Miss—­Nita!  You don’t mean—?”

“Yes, I declined the privilege!”

The brown eyes blazed.  “I think you’re—­”

“Polly, wait!  I do not wish to ride with Mr. Randolph—­he is engaged to Miss Puddicombe!”

Polly’s eyes grew big.  “I don’t believe it!—­How do you know?”

“I was told so.”

“Do you really think it is true?” demanded Polly.

“There is nothing else to think.”

“She calls him Nelson,” mused Polly—­“I thought she was pretty bold!  But he is too smart to be such a fool!”

“Love sometimes makes fools of the best of us.”

Polly watched the red flame up in the thoughtful face beside her, and in that moment Polly grew wise.

“He doesn’t love that Puddicombe ninny and he never will!  You should have heard her talk when he was dancing with you.  I was over there.  Such airs!  You’d think she held a mortgage on the world!”

A soft tap on the door was followed by the entrance of Miss Castlevaine.

“Have you heard?” she whispered tragically.

“No.”  Miss Sterling grew grave.

Polly bent forward in her eagerness.

“You see, I went down to get a pitcher of hot water, and I heard Miss Sniffen’s voice in the dining-room and so went in that way.  Mrs. Nobbs was up on the step-ladder in front of the placard, so I didn’t see it at first, but when I did it muddled me so I just stood there and stared.  Miss Sniffen turned round and said, ’What do you want?’ sharp as could be, just as if I had no business there.  She felt guilty all right!  You could see that!  Well, if you’ll believe me, I couldn’t think what I had gone for!  And she said it again!  Then I happened to see my pitcher, and that brought me to my senses, and I told her, ‘Some hot water.’  ’Why don’t you go get it, then?’ she yelled out, as if I were deaf!  And I went—­huh!”

“But what was it they were doing?” urged Polly.

“Didn’t I tell you?  They were putting up a notice in big letters, ‘No talking, please.’”

CHAPTER XXIII

“Hilltop days”

When Polly chanced to find her Miss Nita out she usually dropped into some other room for a little chat.  On one such afternoon Miss Twining welcomed her most gladly.

“I get lonesome sitting here by myself day after day,” the little woman confessed.  “Sometimes I am actually envious of Miss Sterling when I happen to see you go in there.”

“Then I’ll come oftener,” Polly declared.  “I’d love to!  I’m always afraid the ladies will get sick of the sight of me, I’m round here so much.”

“Mercy!  I don’t believe anybody ever thought of such a thing.  I’d be so happy to have you come to see me every day, I’d feel like standing on my head!”

Polly laughed.  “I shall surely come!  I should like to learn how to stand on my head—­I never could seem to get the trick of it.”