Colonel Gresham watcher her in furtive silence.  Finally she turned towards him.

“I should think it would make sick people well to come out, here should n’t you?”

“Some of them,” he nodded.

“I’m going to tell Mrs. Jocelyn all about it.  Perhaps it would make her happier if she’s come.”

“What Mrs. Jocelyn is that?” asked the Colonel.

“I don’t know her other name.  The one that’s at the hospital—­ she’s small, and has white hair.  Her husband and little boy died.”

“Oh, yes!  Juliet Jocelyn, probably; but I did n’t know that she was sick.”

“She’s had an operation, I think; but she’s getting well now.  I’ve been to see her twice.  Yesterday I read her a story.”

“I hope she appreciated it,” observed the Colonel dryly.

“I’m not sure,” Polly replied; “she did n’t say.  Do you know Mrs. Jocelyn?”

“I knew her a long time ago,” was the grave answer, as he turned his horse into the road that wound up the eastern side of the mountain.

“Oh, you’re going to take the Cliff Drive!” cried Polly delightedly.  “Dr. Dudley could n’t go, because they won’t let autos up there.”

“No, for one might meet a skittish horse.  I like to come up here once in a while for the view.”

“I’m not going to look till we get clear up,” Polly declared.  And resolutely she kept her eyes the other way.

“Now!” announced Colonel Gresham.

Polly turned her head—­and held her breath.  Then she let it out in one long sigh of rapture.

Before them lay the city, glittering in the afternoon sunshine, while beyond, to the north and east and south, green hills formed a living frame for the picture.

“It is worth coming for,” said the Colonel, at last.  “There is your home—­see?”

“Oh, yes!  It looks like a castle in a forest.”

And then—­when joy was uppermost—­Aunt Jane’s threat crowded in.

Polly’s eyes wandered from the “castle” in the direction of the home she dreaded.

Colonel Gresham noted the sudden shadow on the bright face, and took up the reins.

On the way back they stopped at a confectioner’s, and the Colonel brought out a package and laid it on Polly’s lap.  “There is something to remember the drive by,” he said.

“Oh, thank you!” she beamed.  “But I don’t need anything more to make me remember it,” she added.  “It has been beautiful—­right straight through!—­Except Aunt Jane!” she put in honestly, under her breath, and again her face was shadowed.

“It is the best way,” observed the Colonel, “to let disagreeable things slip off our shoulders at once.  If we should carry them all, we should have a sorry load.”

“I guess I’ll do that way,” smiled Polly; “but Aunt Jane don’t slip easy!”

“Shake her off,” laughed the Colonel, “and she’ll go!”

It was a happy moment up in the ward when Polly opened her box of candy.  Such chocolates, such candied cherries and strawberries, with tiny tongs to lift them with, the children had never seen.  They chose one apiece all round, which Miss Lucy said was enough for that day, and Polly carried the box down to the Doctor’s office, that he might taste her sweets.  It never occurred to her that she was entitled to more than the others.