Dr. Maybright had reason again to congratulate himself when he sat down to a humble dinner of boiled potatoes.

“If this regimen continues for a week,” he said, under his breath, “we must really resort to tonics. I perceive I did Polly a gross injustice. She does not mean to make us ill with rich living.”

The doctor ate his potatoes with extreme cheerfulness, remarking as he did so on their nutritive qualities, and explaining to his discontented family how many people lived on these excellent roots. “The only thing we want,” he said, “is a red herring; we might then have that most celebrated of all Irish dishes—‘potatoes and point.’”

“Do tell us what that is, father,” said Helen, who was anxious to draw the direful glances of the rest of the family from poor Polly.

“‘Potatoes and point,’” said Dr. Maybright, raising his head for a moment, while a droll glance filled his eye, “is a simple but economical form of diet. The herring is hung by a string over the center of the board, and each person before he eats his potato points it at the herring; by so doing a subtle flavor of herring is supposed to be imparted to the potato. The herring lasts for some time, so the diet is really a cheap one. Poll, dear, what is the matter? I never saw these excellent apples of the earth better cooked.”

Polly was silent; her blushing cheeks alone betrayed her. She was determined to make a good meal, and was sustained by the consciousness that she had not betrayed Maggie, and the hope that the apple-tart would prove excellent.

It certainly was a noble apple-pie, and the faces of the children quite cheered up at the sight of it. They were very hungry, and were not particular as to the quality of the crust. Mrs. White’s cream, too, was delicious, so the second part of Polly’s first dinner quite turned out a success.

After the meal had come to an end, Helen called her second sister aside.

“Polly,” she said, “I think we ought to speak to father now about the strangers’ coming. Time is going on, and if they come we ought to begin to prepare for them, and the more I think of it the more sure I am that they ought to come.”

“All right,” said Polly. “Only, is this a good time to speak to father? For I am quite sure he must be vexed with me.”[Pg 43]

“You must not think so, Polly,” said Helen, kissing her. “Father has given you a week to try to do your best in, and he won’t say anything one way or another until the time is up. Come into his study now, for I know he is there, and we really ought to speak to him.”

Polly’s face was still flushed, but the Doctor, who had absolutely forgotten the simplicity of his late meal, received both the girls with equal affection.

“Well, my loves,” he said, “can I do anything for you? I am going for a pleasant drive into the country this afternoon. Would you both like to come?”

“I should very much,” said Helen; but Polly, with a somewhat important little sigh, remarked that household matters would keep her at home.

“Well, my dear, you must please yourself. But can I do anything for either of you now? You both look full of business.”

“We are, father,” said Polly, who was always the impetuous one. “We want to know if Paul and Virginia may come.”

“My dear, this is the second time you have spoken to me of those deserted orphans. I don’t understand you.”

“It is this, father,” explained Helen. “We think the children from Australia—the children mother was arranging about—might come here still. We mean that Polly and I would like them to come, and that we would do our best for them. We think, Polly and I do, that mother, even though she is not here, would still like the strangers to come.”

“Sit down, Helen,” said the Doctor; the harassed look ............