“There is nothing to forgive, my dear.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve said too much; but I knew you must have lots of presents, and I kept thinking of those people that perhaps you wouldn’t thank, and I felt somebody must tell you, and there wasn’t anybody else to do it.  Then, as I said, I hoped you would like Miss Twining’s poems well enough to tell her so.  And I just had to come!”

“Polly, I am glad you came!” An unmistakable break in the minister’s voice turned Polly’s eyes away.  “I have been inexcusably thoughtless, not only this time but many a time before.  I am grateful that I still have the opportunity to give my thanks to Miss Twining.”

“And you can say ‘thank you’ to the next one!” cried Polly eagerly.

“Yes, I shall always remember—­you may be sure of that.  I shall not forget my lesson!”

They had reached the door, and Polly shook hands with him and said good-bye.

She went straight to Miss Sterling.

“Well, it’s done!” she said soberly, taking her favorite seat.

“What is done?”

“My talk with Mr. Parcell”

“Did you go?”

“Yes, I had to.  Father wouldn’t.”

“What did you say?  How did he take it?  Tell me!”

“Oh, he took it all right!  I guess he didn’t really like it at first.  I was pretty hard on him, I suppose.  But he needed it!  I didn’t go there to give him sugar-plums!”

“Polly!”

“Well, I didn’t!  It had got to be said, and I thought I might as well say it plain at the start!”

“Oh, Polly!  Polly!” Miss Sterling chuckled softly.

“Why, Miss Nita, you’re laughing!” Polly’s tone was reproachful.  “There isn’t anything to laugh at.  I almost cried, and so did he!”

“Dear, forgive me!  But I couldn’t help seeing the funny side.”

“There isn’t any funny side!”

“Go on!  I won’t offend again.”

“There is not much to tell.  Oh, I do wish Miss Twining could have heard him praise her poems—­after he had read them!  Do you know, Miss Nita, he hadn’t even looked in the book!  He thought it was trash—­not worth his while!  Think of it—­those lovely poems!  But I found the book for him—­He didn’t even remember where he’d put it!—­and I told him to read it, and he did!”

“Polly! you mean you asked him!”

“I guess I told him all right—­I was mad just about then.  And he read steady, by the clock, ’most twenty-five minutes!  I don’t know as he’d have stopped by now if the telephone hadn’t rung.”

“And he liked them?”

“Oh, he thinks they’re beautiful!  He was awfully sorry he hadn’t thanked her—­I know he was!  But he is going to write her a note, and I told him he could say ‘thank you’ to the next one, and he said he should.”

Juanita Sterling disgraced herself the second time.  She dropped back in her chair with a stifled laugh.