“Poor darling!” The little lady folded Polly in her arms.  “Of course you can’t make up your mind all in a minute!  I’ve thought of it so long, I did n’t realize that it was news to you.  I’m such an impatient body!  Talk it over with Dr. Dudley, and he will make things all clear.  Now we’ll forget it, and finish up these packages.  What do yo suppose Leonora will say to her new ribbons?”

The voice was gay, so sure was the little lady that Polly, counseled by the far-seeing doctor, would make quick choice of so auspicious an offer.

But Polly could not easily be won back to her former blitheness.  She finished her part of the task in an absent-minded manner; yet by the time she was on her way to deliver her presents she was more talkative and merry.

So splendid a coach was seldom seen on the poor, narrow street where Brida lived, and big-eyed babies and listless loungers watched its progress.  Brida was at school; but her mother received with loud expressions of gratitude and praise the pretty doll carriage which Polly had brought.

Elsie, in a still narrower, dirtier street, had a similar gift; while for the others of Polly’s hospital friends who had returned to their homes there were books and paper dolls, pocket knives and boxes of candy.  It was a pleasant hour, yet Polly was not sorry when the carriage turned towards the hospital.

Mrs. Jocelyn would not go in, and the little girl bade her good-bye with a clinging embrace.

“I love you de-arly!” she whispered:  which made the little lady smile happily to herself all the way up the street.

Nobody was in the Doctor’s office, and Polly lingered by the pile of packages which the footman had deposited on the couch.  She was pulling out David’s present from under the others, the present that had finally been changed from a fruit knife to a flute, when a voice from the doorway called out:—­

“Hul-lo, Pol-lee!”

She turned, to see David’s merry face.

“You can’t guess what I’ve got for you!” chuckled the lad.

“You could n’t possibly guess what I’ve got for you!” she retorted gaily.

David’s eyes opened wonderingly, falling on the pile of bundles. 
Then he went back to his own secret.

Putting his hand in his pocket, he drew forth what Polly had feared she should never see again.

“My locket and chain!” she cried.

David grinned happily, and passed over the necklace.

“Where did you get it?” she questioned.

“You may thank Cornelius for it,” he told her.  “I met him down on Grant Street, and—­I don’t know what made me—­I happened to speak of your losing this.  He was interested all at once, and wanted me to tell him just how it looked.  When I said the locket was set with turquoises, he clapped his hand on his side and cried out, ’I bet yer that was it!  I bet yer ‘t was!’ It seems he’d seen a boy—­only this morning—­showing a locket to a little kid, and he thought then it was queer he should be having a girl’s locket round that way.  Cornelius said he could get it easy enough of the boy had it with him.  So we went round to the school, and waited till ’t was out.  He had to go on an errand for his father this afternoon, and so was excused early.