“Oh, dear,” said Polly, “I’m almost glad I forgot!”

It was a cordial welcome that awaited them at Sherwood Hall.  Mrs. Sherwood could not wait until Polly should be beside her, but stood upon the broad piazza, watching until the big automobile appeared around the bend of the road.

“Ah, there they come!” she cried, “my own little Princess Polly is coming back to Sherwood Hall.”

Up the broad driveway it came, and the moment it stopped Polly sprang out and into the arms that opened wide to receive her.

“Oh, it’s lovely to be with Rose, and I’ve had a fine time, so why is it so sweet to come home ?” she cried.

“We who have loving hearts can easily understand,” said Mrs. Sherwood, “and Mr. Atherton doubtless remembers of days when, as a boy, he went on vacation trips that he enjoyed with all the ardent spirit of youth, yet when the day came for returning, his heart beat faster.  Home, after all, seemed the dearest place!”

“That is exactly as I remember it, but there’s one thing that you did not mention, and that was the tears that I had to hide,” said Uncle John.

“I started on my camping trips with high spirits, yet a bit of regret at leaving home caused my eyes to fill.  I could not let the other boys see the tears for fear of being laughed at, so I made all sorts of excuses for the moisture by talking of dust and cinders; that, however, never deceived my comrades for a moment.  Therefore, they dubbed me ‘Softy,’ a name that I detested.”

The sound of a firm tread on the gravel walk caused them to turn as Arthur Sherwood came to greet his guest, and to welcome his little daughter, Polly.

The older members of the party seated themselves on the broad piazza, and while they were pleasantly chatting, Polly and Rose found their little boats that Uncle John had purchased for them, and away they ran to the brook to try them.

“Mine has rubies and emeralds for cargo,” said Rose, “and a few, just a few necklaces.  What has yours, Polly?”

“Mine has diamonds and sapphires,” said Polly, “and there are bracelets and bangles in the hold.”

“Oh, see their sails!” cried Rose, “how fine, they look just like real ships, that have truly cargoes.”

“And see them in the water!” said Polly.  “The real boats floating, and the shadow boats down, down in the water.  Which are finest, the truly boats or the shadow boats?”

“The truly boats are dearest, because Uncle John gave them to us, and they are real, but the shadow boats are beautiful and they look like fairy ships,” said Rose.

“Push yours out into the brook away from the shore,” said Polly, “and I’ll lash the water with this switch.”

“All right,” said Rose, and she gave the tiny craft a gentle push.

Polly struck the water sharply with her switch.

“Look!  Look!” she cried, “See the boats rocking on the waves!  See the bubbles!  Don’t it look almost like foam?”