“There were a lot of girls with Polly when I looked in upon her on my way out.  But we’ll catch a chance to tell her soon, my boy.”

“Oh!  I suppose so.  A lot of giggling creatures.  How Polly can stand their chatter, I don’t see,” cried Jasper impatiently.

“They’ve been shut off from Polly for some time, you know,” said Dr. Fisher quietly.  “We must remember that.”

“Polly doesn’t like some of them a bit better than I do,” said Jasper explosively, “only she puts up with their nonsense.”

“It’s rather a difficult matter to pick and choose girls who are in the same classes,” said the doctor, “and Polly sees that.”

“Don’t I know it?” exclaimed Jasper, in an astonished tone.  “Dear me, Dr. Fisher, I’ve watched Polly for years now.  And she’s always done so.”  He stopped whirling the articles on the office table, and bestowed a half-offended look on the little physician.

“Softly, softly, Jasper,” said Dr. Fisher composedly.  “Of course you’ve used your eyes.  Now don’t spoil things by saying anything, but let Polly ‘go her own gait,’ I beg of you.”  Then he turned to his powders once more.

“She will, anyway,” declared Jasper.  “Whatever she makes up her mind to do, Polly does that very thing.”

“Not a bad characteristic,” laughed the doctor.

“I should say not.”

“Now when I come up home for dinner, you and I will find Polly, and tell her the good news.  If she’s with a lot of those silly girls, I’ll—­I’ll tear her off this time.”  Dr. Fisher glared so fiercely as he declared this determination that Jasper laughed outright.

“I thought no one was to disturb Polly’s good intentions in that line,” he cried.

“Well, there’s an end to all things, and patience ceases to be a virtue sometimes.”

“So I’ve thought a good many times, but I’ve borne it like a man.”  Jasper drew himself up, and laughed again at the doctor’s face.

“Oh! you go along,” cried Dr. Fisher, his eyes twinkling.  “I’ll meet you just before dinner.”

“All right,” as Jasper rushed off.

Dr. Fisher jumped to his feet, pushing aside the litter of powder papers, and bottles, and ran his fingers through the shock of gray hair standing straight on his head.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, walking to the window, “it will be a good thing for Polly, now I tell you, Adoniram.”  He always preferred to address himself by his first name; then he was sure of a listener.  “A vastly good thing.  It’s quite time that some of the intimacies with these silly creatures are broken up a bit, while the child gains immensely in other ways.”  He rubbed his palms gleefully.  “Oh! good-morning, good-morning!”

A patient walking in, looked up at the jolly little doctor.  “I wish I could laugh like that,” he ejaculated, his long face working in the unusual effort to achieve a smile.

“You would if you had a gay crowd of children such as I have,” cried the little doctor proudly.  “Why, man, that’s better than all my doses.”