“No, no!” gasped Polly, dropping her head on the back of the chair and shivering like a leaf.  “No, no; don’t talk about fears, Dr. George.  She will be better.  She will be better very soon.  I could not live”—­

“It is n’t so easy to die, my child, with plenty of warm young blood running pell-mell through your veins, and a sixteen-year-old heart that beats like a chronometer.”

“I could not bear life without mamma, Dr. George!”

“A human being, made in the image of God, can bear anything, child; but I hope you won’t have to meet that sorrow for many a long year yet.  I will come in to-morrow and coax your mother into a full assent to my plans; meanwhile, fly home with your medicines.  There was a time when you used to give my tonics at night and my sleeping-draught in the morning; but I believe in you absolutely from this day.”

Polly put her two slim hands in the kind doctor’s, and looking up with brimming eyes into his genial face said, “Dear Dr. George, you may believe in me; indeed, indeed you may!”

Dr. George looked out of his office window, and mused as his eyes followed Polly up the shaded walk under the pepper-trees.

“Oh, these young things, these young things, how one’s heart yearns over them!” he sighed.  “There she goes, full tilt, notwithstanding the heat; hat swinging in her hand instead of being on her pretty head; her heart bursting with fond schemes to keep that precious mother alive.  It’s a splendid nature, that girl’s; one that is in danger of being wrecked by its own impetuosity, but one so full and rich that it is capable of bubbling over and enriching all the dull and sterile ones about it.  Now, if all the money I can rake and scrape together need not go to those languid, boneless children of my languid, boneless sister-in-law, I could put that brave little girl on her feet.  I think she will be able to do battle with the world so long as she has her mother for a motive-power.  The question is, how will she do it without?”

CHAPTER IV.

THE BOARDERS STAY, AND THE OLIVERS GO.

Dr. George found Mrs. Oliver too ill to be anything but reasonable.  After a long talk about her own condition and Polly’s future, she gave a somewhat tearful assent to all his plans for their welfare, and agreed to make the change when a suitable tenant was found for the house.

So Polly eased the anxiety that gnawed at her heart by incredible energy in the direction of house-cleaning; superintending all sorts of scrubbings, polishings, and renovating of carpets with the aid of an extra Chinaman, who was fresh from his native rice-fields and stupid enough to occupy any one’s mind to the exclusion of other matters.

Each boarder in turn was asked to make a trip to the country on a certain day, and on his return found his room in spotless order; while all this time the tired mother lay quietly in her bed, knowing little or nothing of her daughter’s superhuman efforts to be “good.”  But a month of rest worked wonders, and Mrs. Oliver finally became so like her usual delicate but energetic self that Polly almost forgot her fears, although she remitted none of her nursing and fond but rigid discipline.