“I’m afraid Miss Sniffen wouldn’t let us in.” returned Miss Sterling.  “I think I’d better call up Mr. Randolph.  He said to do it if—­there was any trouble.”  Her face rivaled in color Polly’s robe.

The young girl’s eyes widened.

“When did he—­” she began; but her mother interrupted.

“Yes, by all means, telephone!”

Miss Sterling darted into the next room, while Polly sprang to turn on the light.

“Hallo!  Is it Mr. Randolph?” came to Polly’s ears.  “Juanita Sterling is talking.  I am at Dr. Dudley’s.  Miss Crilly is very sick, and I came over for the Doctor; but he is out of town.  Can you come up?  Yes.  Yes.  Good-bye!—­He says he will be here in less than ten minutes.”  She returned to the chair she had left, and Polly cuddled down beside her, while Mrs. Dudley went to put her dress in better order.

“I’ll stay till he comes,” said Polly comfortably.  “Then I can run and leave you to let him in—­you won’t mind, will you?  Do tell me more about that race, Miss Nita.  Oh, don’t I wish I had seen it!”

She laughed over the superintendent’s probable discomfiture, and lamented Miss Crilly’s illness.

“It is too bad father isn’t at home,” she said musingly; “but, oh.  Miss Nita! what made you think of calling up Mr. Randolph?  When did he tell you any such thing?”

“I went to ride with him yesterday,” was the quiet answer.

“You did!  Wasn’t that lovely!  Where did you go?”

“Over to Bryston.  We took dinner at Squirrel Inn.”

“Oh, my!” chuckled Polly.  “What will Blanche Puddicombe say?”

“I don’t care what she says.  Polly, he is not engaged lo her.”

“He isn’t?  Oh, I am so glad, I don’t know what to do!  I didn’t want him to be engaged one bit!”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t engaged,” returned the other demurely.  “I only said he was not engaged to Miss Puddicombe.”

Polly’s face fell.  “Oh, dear!” she cried in a vexed tone, “I never thought of his being engaged to anybody else!  Who is it?—­I don’t know that I care, but I may as well know!” Polly looked cross.

Miss Sterling laughed softly.  “What a little fire-box you are!” she said.

“Oh, yes, laugh!” pouted Polly.  “Of course, you don’t care, because you don’t like him as I do; but I think it is mean for him to be engaged—­just when I was so glad he wasn’t!  You haven’t told me who it is yet—­anybody I know?”

“Yes.”

“Somebody here in town, then?”

“Yes, right here.”

“I don’t see who it can be.  I never saw him riding with anybody but Blanche Puddicombe.  Why don’t you tell me?” cried Polly impatiently.

“I said she was right here.”  The little woman in gray sat very still.  Her eyes were following the pattern of the rug.  Her cheeks grew red and redder.

“Why, I don’t see—­” began Polly.  Then she started forward.  “Oh, Miss Nita! you don’t mean—­”