“I’ll make it two in a thousand, Mr. Gresham,” said Polly pleasantly.  “I hadn’t noticed you; and whatever I am I try to be polite.”

The four other young men, who were used to Polly’s sweeping generalities, laughed; for Polly had their hearty approval.

Johnny Gamble arrived.

“Where’s the surprise?” he demanded with a furtive glance in the direction of Miss Joy, a glance which Gresham jealously resented.

“Me!” Polly gaily told him, thrusting her subscription list into the pocket of Sammy Chirp.  “You haven’t seen me since I got back.”

“You’re no surprise—­you’re a gasp!” he informed her, heartily glad to see her.  “That sunset bonnet is a maraschino.”

“Pinkest one they had,” she complacently assured him.  “I want you to meet some friends of mine, Johnny.”  And, with vast pride in her acquaintanceship with all parties concerned, she introduced him to Constance and Aunt Pattie.

Johnny Gamble and Constance Joy, for just a moment, looked upon each other with the frank liking which sometimes makes strangers old friends.  Gresham saw that instant liking and stiffened.  Johnny Gamble, born in a two-room cottage and with sordid experiences behind him of which he did not like to think in this company, dropped his eyes; whereupon Miss Constance Joy, who had been cradled under silken coverlets, studied him serenely.  She had little enough opportunity to inspect odd types at close range—­and this was a very interesting specimen.  His eyes were the most remarkable blue she had ever seen.

“Cousin Polly has been telling us most pleasant things about you,” she observed.

“Your cousin Polly?” he inquired, perplexed.

“Yes; we’re cousins now,” announced Polly happily.  “It’s the first time I ever had any relations, and I’m tickled stiff!”

“So am I!” agreed Johnny heartily, figuring vaguely that somebody or other must have married.

“You are just in the nick of time, Gamble,” Gresham quietly stated with a deliberate intention of humiliating this child of no one.  “Miss Polly has a subscription list which she wants you to complete.”

“He’s too late,” replied Polly with a flash of her eyes in Gresham’s direction.  “Mr. Loring just closed up that list,” and she winked vigorously at Loring.

“Loring’s my friend,” Gamble said with a cheerful laugh.  “I have check-writer’s cramp.  Who’s to get the loving cup?”

“The loving cup’s a bottle,” Polly returned.  “This is a baby’s benefit.  It’s Constance’s pet scheme and I’m crazy about it.  We’ve found a big, hundred-room summer hotel, with two hundred acres of ground, on a high bluff overlooking the ocean; and we’re going to turn it into a free hotel for sickly babies and their mothers.  Isn’t that some scheme?”

“I’m so strong for it I ache!” announced Mr. Gamble with fervor.  “Put me down for—­” He checked himself ruefully.  “I forgot I was broke!” Gresham shrugged his shoulders in satisfaction.