after sardis merrifield’s visit polly plunged into action with an energy that called out comment from her associates. she took the children on long drives until they had jaunted through nearly every town within fifty miles. in company with those small people that could walk she explored the near-by woods and fields and came home loaded with all manner of trophies. with help from dr. abbe she fashioned flower baskets and boxes in various shapes and sizes and filled them with her wild treasures in their native soil. she designed rustic seats under the trees, a wonderful sun arbor adjoining the side veranda, and she superintended the carpenters while they carried out her plans.

“what in the world ails you?” queried lilith. “if i didn’t know you so well, i should say you were trying to work off something unpleasant.”

polly laughed a queer little laugh, so queer that lilith glanced across the room—and then quickly turned back. polly, brushing some litter from the floor, was blushing furiously into the dustpan. lilith’s mind ran rapidly over the happenings of the past few days—and then she, too, began to blush. but she did not see herself and so went on[188] with her thoughts. polly and dr. abbe had been thrown together a good deal of late—could there be anything—?

the white nurse was calling her name, and she ran to answer.

that afternoon lilith came upon polly in the kitchen with benedicta, learning to make the small cocoanut cakes which were dr. abbe’s especial delight. then lilith thought more thoughts, and without any sensible reason went sadly the rest of the day.

the children had been begging for a picnic, so lilith and the white nurse took them down the mountain to a place which dolly merrifield had named the “garden of eden.” it was a pretty spot, set with pines and birches, and fringed with bushes of various kinds, many of them now hung with berries. pine-needles formed a thick, slippery carpet, and the sun filtered through the trees in an enchanting way.

a few hours later dr. abbe started for the picnic ground with two heavy baskets, polly and benedicta following with some frosted cakes, that the housekeeper would entrust to nobody else.

“who is that girl talking with lilith?” questioned polly, halting at a point where one first caught a view of the delectable “garden.”

benedicta came up and narrowed her eyes to focus them on the stranger.

“huh!” she ejaculated, “what’s that kid doin’[189] round here! say, i must—” her voice trailed off inaudibly as, setting down her basket, she turned and hurried back on the road she had come.

“why—!” began polly; but the housekeeper was beyond a conversational tone, and polly after a moment’s wait went on down the road.

arrived at her destination she crossed over to lilith and the child whom she had seen.

the little girl was speaking, but paused with a touch of shyness when polly came up.

“miss dudley will give you more information than i can,” said lilith. then, turning to polly, “this little girl has been telling me about her sister who has never walked.”

polly was interested at once and cordially held out her hand. “i should like to hear about her,” she said.

“my sunday-school class is up here on a picnic,” the child explained, “over the knoll there; and i and another girl were just walking round, and we heard your children, so we came nearer to find out. i wanted to come to see you before, but grandfather wouldn’t let me. i wondered if you were going to make them walk”—pointing to grissel and little duke—“and i couldn’t help asking.” the girl’s face was eager and anxious.

“let’s sit down in the shade and talk it over.” polly put her arm around the slim shoulders and drew the child to the farther end of the “garden,” quite out of hearing of the wheel-chairs.

[190] “has your little sister never walked at all?” was asked, as they sat down on a big log.

“not a single step!” answered the child with emphasis; “and it does seem too bad, she is so beautiful. i never saw anybody so handsome in all my life, unless it was my mother. i can’t remember much about mother; but grandfather says she was beautiful, like rosalind. he says that grandmother used to be just as lovely as that, too. i think she’s pretty now.”

“do you live with your grandfather?”

“yes, ma’am, since father died—there’s just rosalind and me.”

“i shall have to go to see this dear little rosalind,” smiled polly, her arm tightening around the child.

“oh, no!” was the unexpected reply, “grandfather wouldn’t like it—you mustn’t! maybe i can draw rosalind up here in her cart. i’ll try some day, if you’d like to see her.”

“surely i wish to see her; but i cannot understand what your grandfather has against me.”

“oh, nothing! indeed, nothing at all! it is only—but i mustn’t talk about it! he doesn’t wish me to.” the little girl shut her lips with a finality that made polly wonder. she shifted from grandfather to grandchild.

“i suppose you don’t know the cause of the trouble with your sister—” she paused.

“oh, yes, ma’am! grandmother says it was the[191] poor milk that we had when we lived in stockville. rosalind was just as healthy and strong as any baby until she began to drink that milk; but they didn’t know it then, and so we kept on living there. grandmother says i began to be sick, too, and mother. they found out afterwards that the peddler put formaldehyde in it, and that poisoned her. finally rosalind got so bad—and didn’t walk at all when she ought to—that father woke up, grandmother says, and took her to the doctor; but nobody thought of the milk, and it wasn’t for a good while that they found out. then it was too late. she had the rickets, you see, and after mother died father brought us up here. then pretty soon he died, and we’ve been here ever since. rosalind has had seven doctors, and grandmother and grandfather have got discouraged.”

“i suppose it was malnutrition,” thought polly aloud.

“yes,” responded the child, “that’s what it was—i remember, grandmother said so. do you suppose you could cure her?” she went on, her eyes fixed on polly’s face, hungry for a bit of hope.

“i can do nothing, dear; my father has done wonderful things; but i don’t know about this. he is coming up here soon, and if your grandfather will allow it, we will try to arrange for him to see your sister.”

“oh, i’ll bring her up here!” cried the child. “i’ll bring her up if it takes all day! oh, if he[192] could only make her walk! i’d do anything for him if he would!”

“you may tell your grandfather what i say, that i am sure father will see her if he wishes it. he would know whether she can be helped. i am not wise enough to be able to say anything about it.”

the little girl shook her head sadly. “grandfather wouldn’t like it if he knew i had come to see you,” she said. “i don’t dare tell him; but i’ll bring rosalind up any time you say. she’s my sister, and i can do what i like. benedicta clapperton hasn’t anything to do with it!” a bitter shadow crossed the child’s face.

polly looked at her, surprised and questioning.

“i mustn’t talk about her,” said the little girl, as if she had been asked to do so. “grandfather said for me not to. but couldn’t i bring rosalind up to see you without—without your housekeeper’s knowing it?”

“perhaps,” answered polly. “yet i think that father would have to see your grandfather or grandmother before he examined your sister.”

“then rosalind can’t—ever walk,” wailed the little one softly, putting her arm across her eyes to hide her tears.

“oh, my dear!” cried polly soothingly, “i think we can arrange it some way.”

“no—we ca-n’t!” she sobbed. “grandfather wouldn’t ever take rosalind to where—benedicta clapperton is—i know he wouldn’t!”

[193] “now, don’t you worry one bit about it,” comforted polly, drawing the child to nestle within the circle of her arm. “it will all come out right—you see if it doesn’t.”

“i’m afraid,” the little girl confessed.

“don’t be afraid. we won’t let benedicta or anybody else stand in the way of your sister’s walking, if it is possible to effect a cure.”

the child drew a long breath. “you are good,” she said, “awful good; but you don’t know grandfather. he hates—oh, i mustn’t talk about it! what would he say if he knew! i must go now—they will think i’m lost. bessie is waiting for me somewhere—i forgot all about them!”

“and you will bring rosalind to see me?”

“yes, i want you to see her, she is so beautiful!”

“if you will let me know when you can come, i will meet you at the foot of the mountain and bring you up in my car.”

“but she drives it, don’t she? i saw her that day when she ran into that other car down in overlook.”

“i shall drive the car myself when i come to meet you.”

“oh, then i’d like it!” the child said eagerly. “and i can bring her to-morrow, if it doesn’t rain.”

“and your name?” asked polly. “i ought to know it, in case something should occur so that i couldn’t come.”

[194] “it isn’t a pretty one like rosalind. i was named for father and mother both. i hate it! it is oscarlucy—ferne.”

“that isn’t a bad name,” smiled polly reassuringly. “ferne is lovely. i will write it down as soon as i get home.”

polly and lilith conjectured as to the possible connection between benedicta and the family of oscarlucy ferne; but they came to no definite conclusion.

at half-past five o’clock the sandwiches and cakes were served and eaten; but benedicta did not appear until going-home time. that she had returned earlier as far as the big birch-tree was affirmed by grissel, whose sharp eyes had spied her peering between the branches. the picnic seemed to have missed something through the housekeeper’s absence.