Polly and the Princess Part 53

"You quite outwitted her," she laughed. "I don't understand why she should lie about it."

"I have been there several times and inquired for you," he resumed; "and was always told that you were not in."

A flush of surprise pinked her face. "I never heard anything of it," she said regretfully.

"So Polly Dudley told me. I saw her this morning."

"Oh, did you!" she cried eagerly.

"She was in my office for an hour or two. We have been blind as moles, the whole gang of us!" he added in a disgusted tone. "We have trusted that woman with everything--to your sorrow and ours!

I hope the officers will see it as I do, but--I don't know. Miss Sterling,"--he turned to her with a brighter tone in his voice,--"do you remember when I used to come to your house to consult your father--and you would entertain me while I was waiting for him?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered, "I remember perfectly; but I didn't suppose you recollected--it is so long ago."

"I don't forget easily. You were a school-girl then, weren't you?"

"I was just through the high school."

"It was the winter before I was married," he said reminiscently.

"It seems a lifetime since then. Yet it is only some twenty or more years ago. Your father was a very wise man, and I was pretty green in those days. I remember I wanted to sue somebody that had cheated me in a small way, and your father advised me strongly against it. I chafed a good deal at his decision; but I have thought of it a good many times since, how much better things turned out for me than if I had had my own way. Too bad he had to go so young! We need such men. I wish we had a few like him on the Home Board." He turned toward his companion with a rueful smile. "I am rather glad that happened down at the Home to-day.

It has given me a little personal experience with the Dragon that may be convenient to have." He smiled again at her, that kindly, whimsical little smile that so well became him.

She smiled, too, and then, when he had turned back, she frowned.

She wished he wouldn't smile that way--to her. He should keep such smiles for his fiancee.

"By the way," she began, "how is Miss Puddicombe? I haven't seen her lately."

"She is very well, much better than she was during the summer. She is in New York at present, visiting her aunt for a fortnight."

Ah, that was why he was able to take her to ride! She wondered if she ought to offer her congratulations, but finally decided to keep silent. S he was not supposed to know of his engagement.

The road wound up through a maze of yellow. Tall trees on either side sifted their gold down upon the travelers. Juanita Sterling caught a leaf in her hand and held it.

"How beautiful it is!" she said, and drew a deep breath.

The man turned to look at her trophy. "Oh, no! I mean the way,"

she explained. "It is strange, but it makes me think of heaven."

"The streets of gold?" he smiled.

"M--no," she replied doubtfully. "I can't quite tell myself; but I think it is the peace and the glory of it--the spirit of the place."

His eyes were on her face, and the car b.u.mped over a stone.

"There! That's because I was looking at you!" he laughed. "A motorman shouldn't gaze at a princess."

She gave a little gurgling laugh; then she grew grave again.

"What do you say," he asked abruptly, "to keeping on over the mountain to Bryston and have dinner?"

Her heart gave a joyful leap, yet she answered quietly, "I am afraid--I'd better not."

"Oh, yes," he urged, "let's keep on! I am selfish, I know; but I'd rather eat dinner with you than to eat it at home alone, and I'm sure that Squirrel Inn will give you a more appetizing meal than the Dragon will furnish."

"I dare say," she responded. "What a bewitching name for an inn!

Is it as captivating as it sounds?"

"More," he smiled. "It is the inn that has made Belgian hare famous."

She laughed softly, and he speeded the car.

"I took Mrs. Puddicombe up there one day, and she has raved about it ever since. The house itself is very old, with little windows and a gambrel roof, and a well-sweep in the rear. They say, half of the garret is given over to the squirrels."

"What a delightful place! I shall love it, I know!" Inwardly, however, she amended, "Maybe I shan't!" thinking of Mrs. Puddicombe.

But once seated at the quaint little table, in the old high-backed chair, eating what tasted better than the best chicken that ever went into an oven, Juanita Sterling forgot Mrs. Puddicombe and her daughter Blanche, and smiled upon everything.

"I am having more dinners to-day than my share," she observed over the pumpkin pie and cheese. "We have ours at twelve, you know."

"What did you have?"

"Codfish b.a.l.l.s and pickles and stale bread and b.u.t.ter."

"No dessert?"

"No," she laughed; "that was cut out months ago."

He shook his head gravely. "I didn't suppose it was as bad as that."

"This makes up," she said gayly.

It was a leisurely meal; and when it had come to an end the memory of it was not the least of its delights.

The air had cooled decidedly, and meeting the stiff breeze Juanita Sterling s.h.i.+vered. She turned up her coat collar about her neck.

"Are you cold?" he questioned.

"Not much. I shall get used to it in a minute. It was pretty warm in there."

He stopped the car and jumped out. "There are some light-weight robes somewhere," he said.

"Don't bother!" she protested. "I rarely take cold."

But he continued his search.

"There!" he said, putting it around her shoulders, "isn't that better?"

"Delightful! Thank you!" It was cozily warm and comfortable.