“Oh! that’s more than mother gave me credit for!—­Do you really know what you’re saying anyway?” laughed Polly.

“Perfectly, Miss Dudley!  And I declare to you this moment that you are a model of propriety!”

“O-o-h!  Don’t I look awfully puffed up?  Now you’ll think me silly!  But I’ve talked long enough about David and me.  I’m dying to tell you how glad, glad, glad I was last evening every time I looked your way!  I almost forgot the birthday girl for thinking of you!  Wasn’t Mr. Randolph lovely?  And didn’t you have a dandy time?  Why, he kept as close to you as if you ’d been engaged to him!  He—­”

“Oh, Polly, don’t talk that silly stuff!  I won’t hear it!” Miss Sterling got up hurriedly and went to her work-table, apparently hunting for something in her spool basket.

“Why, Miss Nita!” Polly’s tone was grieved.

“Well, forgive me,” came from over the array of threads and silks, “but I do hate to hear you say such things!”

“I was only telling the truth,” said Polly plaintively.  “I thought you were having a lovely time—­you looked as if you were!  Doodles spoke of it.”

“Yes, I dare say I looked and acted like an old fool!”

“Miss Nita!  You couldn’t!  You looked too sweet for anything, and I guess he thought so—­”

“Polly! what did I tell you?” She came back with a half-mended stocking.

“Aren’t you ever going to let me speak of Mr. Randolph again?  He acted as if he were dead in love with y—­”

A hand was clapped over her mouth.

“I won’t hear it!  I won’t!  I won’t!” Miss Sterling laughed a little uncertainly.

Polly drew a long breath of disappointment.  “I never knew you to act like this before,” she mused.

“How sweetly Doodles sang!” said Miss Sterling.

“Yes,” agreed Polly dispiritedly.

“And you are a charming accompanist.”

“Oh! now, who’s silly?”

“Nobody.”  Miss Sterling drew her hand from her stocking.

“It doesn’t seem to me that I play well at all—­I long to do so much better.”

“It is a rare gift to be a good accompanist, and you surely possess it.”

“Thank you—­you’re not saying that to counterbalance what you said about—?”

“No, I’m not!  When I say a thing I mean it.”

“Perhaps some other folks do.  Oh, Miss Nita!  I couldn’t help hearing what Mr. Randolph said when he bade you good-bye—­I was so near!”

“What if you did!  There was nothing secret about it.”  The voice was hard and unnatural.  Miss Sterling felt the flame in her cheeks.

“Well, I was almost sure that it meant he was going to take you to ride, weren’t you?”

“Of course he won’t ask me!” She crossed over to the work-table for another stocking.

“I think he will,” said Polly decidedly.  “You’ll go if he does, shan’t you?”

“No, not an inch!”