At the gate she paused
to glance up at the window of Alan's room. The shades were drawn
down, and no familiar boy face appeared there, to give her a
welcome. How she dreaded to go in! The cold, raw wind swept past
her, as she stood there, and it seemed to Polly that the day was
strangely in harmony with her life, just then, for the warm,
bright air of the morning before had given place to dull, heavy
clouds which lay in long, low banners along the mountain side. As
she looked up at the window above, she felt a strong, unreasoning
desire to turn again and run away towards home; but just then the
side door below opened softly, and Mrs. Hapgood stepped out on the
piazza.
"Come in, my dear," she said. "I have good news for you; Alan had
a fairly comfortable night, and now he is asleep."
"Oh, Mrs. Hapgood!" And Polly told her the story in an excited,
breathless fashion, with the same unhesitating truth she had shown
in talking to her mother.
If Mrs. Adams had been kind, so was Mrs. Hapgood, as well. She
spoke no word of blame, but gathered the forlorn little figure
into her arms, and soothed and comforted the child with assurances
of her forgiveness and Alan's, too.
"Now, Polly," she said, as she rose, "I must go back up-stairs to
my boy again.
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