“How is she this morning?” asked Polly.

“I hardly know what to tell you,” hesitated Mrs. Albright.  “I think if Miss Sniffen would keep away she’d be better.  Still, when she got up and tried to dress, she fainted again.  Now Miss Sniffen has told her to stay abed, and she has put a notice on her door that she is too ill to receive visitors.”

“Then can’t you go in?” queried Polly anxiously.

“I do,” chuckled Mrs. Albright.  “They’d have to do more contriving than they’ve done yet to shut me out!”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Polly.  “But she ought to have a doctor!  I suppose if she did it would be that Dr. Gunnip—­He’s no good!  Father says he’s little more than a quack and he isn’t safe.  I wish father could see her; but he can’t unless he is called.  It is too bad!  I believe I’ll go straight to Mr. Randolph!”

“I don’t dare have you,” returned Mrs. Albright.  “He would, of course, favor the Home, and if Miss Sniffen should hear of it—­”

“Before I say anything I shall make him promise not to tell.”

“I’m awfully afraid to let you do it—­oh, Polly, don’t!” Miss Crilly was close to tears.

“Had you rather die?” she demanded.  “You may be sick yourself and want a doctor!  How are you going to get him?”

“If I’m sick I bet I’ll make such a fuss they’ll send for a doctor—­and a good one too!” cried Miss Crilly hysterically.

Polly had risen, and Miss Sterling drew her within the circle of her arm.  “When the time comes we’ll decide what is best to do,” said she.

“I should think the time had come now!” the girl fumed.  “Poor Miss Twining!  It’s just an outrage!”

“Oh, I forgot!” Mrs. Albright bent toward Polly, with lowered voice.  “She gave me something for you, dear.”

“Me?” Polly calmed at once.

“Yes.  When I was with her in the night I think she feared that her heart might give out, and she said, ’If anything should happen, I wish you would give Polly those papers in my portfolio—­or you may give her the whole portfolio.  She will understand.’”

“Oh, I know!  Yesterday morning she was planning to write some poems, and those must be the ‘papers.’  But perhaps she won’t want me to have them now.”

“She spoke of it again to-day,” nodded Mrs. Albright.  “She said she should somehow feel easier for you to keep them.”

“I hope Miss Sniffen won’t rummage round and get hold of them first,” returned Polly anxiously.

“I guess she won’t find ’em in a hurry!” chuckled Mrs. Albright.  “They’re in my room!”

CHAPTER XXVI

MR. PARCELL’S LESSON

Polly carried the portfolio home with her, and later, alone in her room, read the poems it contained.  Tears blurred her eyes as she read and read again the verses dated the day before.  Such a lilting, joyous song it was!  And now—!