But Miss Lucy declared that pearls and gingham dresses were not companionable, and the necklace was returned to its satin case.

“Why don’t you undo your package?” inquired Mrs. Jocelyn.

“Oh, I forgot!” cried Polly, in sudden compunction.  “Those beautiful pearls put everything out of my head.”

She soon had the wrappings off, disclosing a small leather case.

“What can it be?” she breathed.  “Oh, you darling!” gazing delightedly at an exquisite little watch.  She caressed it with excited fingers.  “Why, there’s something engraved in here!” as the case flew open, and turning to the light, she read aloud:—­

     To Polly of the Hospital Staff, in remembrance
   Of a stormy midnight and a sunshiny morning, from
   her devoted lover,
     DAVID GRESHAM.

“And here’s something more,” she went on, scowling in a puzzled way over the quotation.  “It says, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’  I don’t see what that’s for, do you?”

The others smiled comprehendingly.

“Why, dearest,” explained Mrs. Jocelyn, “you know you brought the Colonel and his niece together.”

“Oh, no, I did n’t do it!” protested Polly.

“I wonder who did,” the little lady laughed.

Miss Lucy was reading the Colonel’s note, which Dr. Dudley had given her.  She ended it with a silent chuckle, and the Doctor passed it over to Mrs. Jocelyn.

“Just like David!” the little lady declared.  “He enjoys a bit of quiet fun as well as any man I ever knew.”

Polly had gone back to her present, hanging over it in delight.

“It is just the right kind of watch for a little girl like you,” admired the Doctor; “neither too large nor too ornamental.”

“It is beautiful!” sighed Polly rapturously.  “Is n’t Colonel Gresham nice to give it to me?”

The Doctor smiled an emphatic “Yes,” which rejoiced Polly’s heart.  She had been afraid he would shake his head, as he had shaken it over the touring-car.  In that case, she reasoned conscientiously, she should have felt as if she ought to give back her watch.

It was a six-o’clock wedding.  The bridal procession formed at the foot of the stairs in the spacious hallway, marching its length, and then proceeding through the east drawing-room to the library, where the ceremony took place under a canopy of roses.  A troop of children attended the ride, children to whom, as nurse of the convalescent ward, she had at some time ministered.  The girls, two and two, gowned in silken chiffon of harmonious colors, had each a basket heaped with blossoms.  Polly and Leonora came last of all, both in delicate pink, from the ribbons that bound their hair to the tops of their kid slippers, Leonora’s black braids in happy contrast with Polly’s fair curls.  The boys, clad as pages, ranged, at regular intervals, on either side of the long line, carried light arches of vines and flowers, making a fragrant arbor for the others to walk under.