XII
NEW WORK FOR POLLY
It was Saturday morning, and Polly ran upstairs with a bright face, themorning Journal in her hand. "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Chatterton,Hortense," she announced to that functionary in the dressing-room.
"And a comfairte may it gif to you," said Hortense, with a viciousshake of the silk wrapper in her hand, before hanging it in its place."Madame has the tres diablerie, cross as de two steeks, what you callit, dis morning."
Polly went softly into the room, closing the door gently after her. Inthe shadow of one corner of the large apartment, sat Mrs. Chattertonunder many wrappings in the depths of an invalid's chair. Polly went upto her side.
"Would you like to have me read the news, Mrs. Chatterton?" she askedgently.
Mrs. Chatterton turned her head and looked at her. "No," she was aboutto say shortly, just as she had repulsed many little offers of Polly'sfor the past few days; but somehow this morning the crackling of thefresh sheet in the girl's hand, suggestive of crisp bits of gossip, wastoo much for her to hear indifferently, especially as she was in aworse state of mind than usual over Hortense and her bad temper.
"You may sit down and read a little, if you like," she saidungraciously. So Polly, happy as a queen at the permission, slippedinto a convenient chair, and began at once. She happened fortunately onjust the right things for the hungry ears; a description of a largechurch wedding, the day before; two or three bits about society peoplethat Mrs. Chatterton had lost sight of, and a few other items just asacceptable.
Polly read on and on, from one thing to another, not daring to look upto see the effect, until at last everything in the way of gossip wasexhausted.
"Is that all?" asked Mrs. Chatterton hungrily.
Polly, hunting the columns for anything, even a murder account if itwas but in high life, turned the paper again disconsolately, obliged toconfess it was.
"Well, do put it by, then," said Mrs. Chatterton sharply, "and notwhirl it before my face; it gives me a frightful headache."
"I might get the Town Talk" suggested Polly, as a bright thought struckher. "It came yesterday. I saw it on the library table."
"So it is Saturday." Mrs. Chatterton looked up quickly. "Yes, you may,Polly," her mouth watering for the revel she would have in its contents.
So Polly ran over the stairs with delighted feet, and into the library,beginning to rummage over the papers and magazines on the reading table.
"Where is it?" she exclaimed, turning them with quick fingers. "O dear!it was right here last evening."
"What is it?" asked Phronsie, from the depths of a big arm-chair, andlooking up from her book. Then she saw as soon as she had asked thequestion that Polly was in trouble, so she laid down her book, and slidout of the chair. "What is it, Polly? Let me help you, do."
"Why, the Town Talk--that hateful old society thing," said Polly,throwing the papers to right and left. "You know, Phronsie; it has apicture of a bottle of ink, and a big quill for a heading. O dear! dohelp me, child, for she will get nervous if I am gone long."
"Oh! I know where that is," said Phronsie deliberately, laying a coollittle hand on Polly's hot one.
"Where?" demanded Polly feverishly. "Oh, Phronsie! where?"
"Jack Rutherford has it."
Polly threw down the papers, and started for the door.
"He has gone," said Phronsie; "he went home almost an hour ago."
Polly turned sharply at her. "What did he want Town Talk for?"
"He said it was big, and he asked Grandpapa if he might have it, andGrandpapa said, Yes. I don't know what he wanted it for," saidPhronsie. "And he took other newspapers, too, Polly; oh! ever so many."
"Well, I don't care how many he took, nor what they were," cried Polly,"only that very identical one. O dear me! Well, I'll ask Jasper."
And rushing from the library, Phronsie following in a small panic overPolly's distress, she knocked at the door of Jasper's den, a littleroom in the wing, looking out on the east lawn.
"Oh! I am so glad you are here," she exclaimed as "Come in!" greetedher, and both Phronsie and she precipitated themselves with no show ofceremony, in front of his study table. "O Jasper! could you get me acopy of "Town Talk?" Jack Rutherford has gone off with ours."
"Town Talk!" repeated Jasper, raising his head from his hands to stareat her.
"Yes; Jack has taken ours off; Grandpapa gave it to him. Can you,Jasper? Will it break up your study much?" she poured out anxiously.
"No--that is--never mind," said Jasper, pushing the book away andspringing from his chair. "But whatever in the world do you want thattrash for?" He turned, and looked at her curiously.
"Mrs. Chatterton will let me read it to her; she said so," cried Polly,clasping her hands nervously, "but if I don't get the paper soon, why,I'm afraid she'll change her mind."
Jasper gave a low whistle as he flung himself into his coat."Inestimable privilege!" he exclaimed at last, tossing on his cap.
"Oh, Jasper! you are so good," cried Polly in a small rapture. "I'm sosorry to have to ask you."
"I'll go for you, Jasper," declared Phronsie; "Mamsie will let me; Ialmost know she will."
"No, no, Phronsie," said Jasper, as she was flying off; "it isn't anyplace for you to go to. I shall get one at the hotel--the Allibone.I'll be back in a trice, Polly."
Polly went out, and sat down in one of the big oaken chairs in the hallto seize it as it came, and Phronsie deposited herself in an oppositechair, and watched Polly. And presently in came Jasper, waving thedesired journal. Polly, with a beaming face, grasped it and rushed offupstairs.
"Polly," called the boy, looking after her, "it isn't too late now foryou to go with them. Lucy Bennett met me at the corner and she saidthey will take the twelve o'clock train, instead of the eleven, and shewanted me to beg you to come."
"No, no," tossed back Polly, rushing on, "I am quite determined to stayat home." Then she went into Mrs. Chatterton's room, and closed thedoor. But she couldn't so easily shut out the longings that would risein her heart for the Saturday outing that the other girls were to have.How lovely it would be! the run out to Silvia Horne's charming housesome ten miles distant; the elegant luncheon they would have, followedby games, and a dance in the ball-room upstairs, that Silvia's oldersisters used for their beautiful parties. Then the merry return beforedusk, of the twelve girls, all capital friends at school! Oh--oh!
"You've been an unconscionable time," exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton in asharp, high key, "just to get a paper. Well, do sit down; I am quitetired waiting for you."
Polly sat down, and resolutely plunged into the column where the newsitems promised the most plentiful yield but in between the lines ranthe doings of the girls: how they were all assembling by this time atLucy Bennett's; how they were hurrying off to the train, and all theother delightful movements of the "outing" flashed before her eyes, asshe finished item after item of her dreary task. But how Mrs.Chatterton gloated over it!
At last Polly, feeling as if she could not endure another five minutesof it, glanced up to see the old lady's eyes actually sparkling; hermouth had fallen into contented curves, and the jeweled hand resting onthe chair-arm was playing with the fringe, while she leaned forwardthat she might not lose a word.
"Read that again, Polly," she said, "the list of presents exhibited atArabella Granger's wedding. I didn't hear any mention of theArchibalds. It can't be that they have fallen out; and read moreslowly."
So Polly began once more the long lists of gifts that ushered in thematrimonial happiness of Mrs. John Westover nee Miss Arabella Granger;this time, however, stimulated by the pleasure she was giving, to findit an endurable task.
It seemed to Polly as if Mrs. John Westover had everything on earthgiven to her that could possibly be presented at a wedding;nevertheless the list was gone through again bravely, Polly retracingher steps two or three times to read the items over for her listener'sslow digestion.
"The Archibalds are not mentioned, either
as being there or sending agift, nor the Harlands, nor the Smythes, so I am very glad I didn'tremember her," said Mrs. Chatterton, drawing herself up with a relievedsigh. "Those presents sound fine on paper, but it isn't as well as shemight have done if she had made a different match. Now something else,Polly," and she dismissed Mrs. Westover with a careless wave of herhand. Polly flew off into the fashion hints, and was immediately lostin the whirl of coming toilets. No one noticed when the door opened, soof course no one saw Mrs. Whitney standing smiling behind the oldlady's big chair.
"Well, Polly," said a pleasant voice suddenly.
Down went Town Talk to the floor as Polly sprang up with a glad cry,and Mrs. Chatterton turned around nervously.
"Oh, Auntie--Auntie!" cried Polly, convulsively clinging to her, "areyou really here, and is Dicky home?"
"Dear child," said Mrs. Whitney, as much a girl for the moment as Pollyherself. And pressing kisses on the red lips, while she folded herclose--"Yes, Dick is at home. There, go and find him; he is in Mrs.Pepper's room."
"I am glad to see you so much better, Mrs. Chatterton," said Mrs.Whitney, leaning over the invalid's chair to lay the tenderest of palmson the hand resting on the chair-arm.
"Oh, yes, Marian; I am better," said Mrs. Chatterton, looking aroundfor Polly, then down at the delicious Town Talk carelessly thrown onthe floor. "Will you send her back as soon as possible?" she asked withher old imperativeness.
"Who--Polly?" said Mrs. Whitney, following the glance. "Why, she hasgone to see Dick, you know. Now, why cannot I read a bit?" and shepicked up the paper.
"You don't know what has been read," said Mrs. Chatterton as Mrs.Whitney drew up a chair and sat down, running her eye in a practicedway over the front page. "Dear me, it makes me quite nervous, Marian,to see you prowling around all over the sheet that way."
"Oh! I shall find something interesting quite soon, I fancy," said Mrs.Whitney cheerfully, her heart on her boy and the jolly home-coming hewas having. "Here is the Washington news; I mean all about thereceptions and teas."
"She has read that," said Mrs. Chatterton.
"Now for the fashion department." Mrs. Whitney whirled the paper overdexterously. "Do you know, Mrs. Chatterton, gray stuffs are to be wornmore than ever this spring?"
"I don't care about that," said Mrs. Chatterton quickly, "and besides,quite likely there'll be a complete revolution before spring reallysets in, and gray stuffs will go out. Find some description of teagowns, can't you? I must have one or two more."
"And here are some wonderfully pretty caps, if they are all like thedescriptions," said Mrs. Whitney, unluckily dropping on anotherparagraph.
"Caps! who wants to hear about them?" cried Mrs. Chatterton in adudgeon. "I hope I'm not at the cap period yet."
"Oh! those lovely little lace arrangements," said Mrs. Whitney hastily;"don't you know how exquisite they are at Pinaud's?" she cried.
"I'm sure I never noticed," said Mrs. Chatterton indifferently."Hortense always arranges my hair better without lace. If you can'tfind what I ask you, Marian," raising her voice to a higher key, "youneedn't trouble to read at all."
Fortunately the description of the gown worn by Lady Hartly Cavendishat a London high tea, stood out in bold relief, as Mrs. Whitney's eyesnervously ran over the columns again, and she seized upon it.
But in just two moments she was interrupted. "Send that girl backagain, Marian," cried Mrs. Chatterton. "I had just got her trained sothat she suits me. It tires me to death to hear you."
"I do not know whether Polly can come now," said Mrs. Whitney gently;"she"--
"Do not know whether Polly can come!" repeated Mrs. Chatterton sharply,and leaning forward in her chair. "Didn't I say I wanted her?"
"You did." Marian's tone did not lose a note of its ordinarygentleness. "But I shall ask her if she is willing to do it as a favor,Mrs. Chatterton; you quite understand that, of course?" She, too,leaned forward in her chair, and gazed into the cold, hard face.
"Just like your father," cried Mrs. Chatterton, settling herselfirascibly back in the chair-depths again. "There is no hope thataffairs in this house will mend. I wash my hands of you."
"I am so glad that you consider me like my father," said Mrs. Whitneygleefully as a child. "We surely are united on this question."
"May I read some more?" cried Polly, coming in softly, and trying tocalm the impetuous rush of delight as her eyes met Mrs. Whitney's.
"Yes; I am waiting for you," said Mrs. Chatterton. "Begin where youleft off."
Mrs. Whitney bit her pretty lips and slipped out of her chair, justpausing a moment to lay her hand on the young shoulder as she passed,and a world of comfort fell upon Polly, shut in once more to her drearytask.
"How perfectly splendid that I didn't go to Silvia Home's luncheonparty now!" cried Polly's heart over and over between the lines. "If Ihad, I should have missed dear Auntie's home-coming, and Dicky's." Sheglanced up with luminous eyes as she whirled the sheet. Mrs.Chatterton, astonishing as it may seem, was actually smiling.
"It's some comfort to hear you read," she observed with a sigh ofenjoyment, "because you enjoy it yourself. I wouldn't give a fig foranybody to try to do it."
Polly felt like a guilty little thing to take this quietly, and sheeased her conscience by being more glad that she was in that very roomdoing that very task. And so the moments sped on.
Outside, Dick was holding high revel as every one revolved around him,the hero of the coasting accident, till the boy ran considerable dangerfrom all the attention he was receiving. But one glance and a smilefrom Mrs. Whitney brought him back to himself.
"Don't talk any more about it," he cried a trifle impatiently. "I was amuff to stick on, when I knew we were going over. Mamma, won't you stopthem?"
And she did.
"Do you know, Dicky and I have a secret to tell all of you goodpeople." The color flew into her soft cheek, and her eyes beamed.
"Really, Marian," said her father, whose hand had scarcely ceasedpatting Dick's brown head since the boy's home-coming, "you've grownyoung in Badgertown. I never saw you look so well as you do to-day."
Mrs. Whitney laughed and tossed him a gay little smile, that carriedhim back to the days when Marian King stood before him looking just so.
"Now listen, father, and all you good people, to my secret--Dicky's andmine; we are allowed to tell it now. Papa Whitney sailed in the Servia,and he ought to be in to-day!"
A shout of joy greeted her announcement. Polly, off in her prison,could hear the merry sounds, and her happy heart echoed them. Themisery of the past week, when she had been bearing an unatoned fault,seemed to drop away from her as she listened, and to say, "Life holdssunshine yet."
Then a hush dropped upon the gay uproar. She did not know that Dickywas proclaiming "Yes, and he is never, never going back again. That is,unless he takes mamma and me, you know."
Mrs. Chatterton turned suddenly upon the young figure.
"Do go!" She tossed an imperative command with her jeweled fingers."You have ceased to be amusing since your interest is all in the otherroom with that boy."
Polly dashed the newspaper to the floor, and rushing impulsively acrossthe room, threw herself, with no thought for the consequences, on herknees at Mrs. Chatterton's chair.
"Oh--oh!" she cried, the color flying up to the brown waves on hertemples, "don't send me off; then I shall know you never will forgiveme."
"Get up, do!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton, in disgust; "you are crushingmy gown, and besides I hate scenes."
But Polly held resolutely to the chair-arm, and never took her browneyes from the cold face.
"I must say, Polly Pepper," cried Mrs. Chatterton with rising anger,"you are the most disagreeable girl that I ever had the misfortune tomeet. I, for one, will not put up with your constant ebullitions oftemper. Go out of this room!"
Polly rose slowly and drew herself up with something so new in face andmanner that the old lady instinctively put up her eyeglass and gazedcuriously thr
ough it, as one would look at a strange animal.
"Humph!" she said slowly at last, "well, what do you want to say? Speakout, and then go."
"Nothing," said Polly in a low voice, but quite distinctly, "only Ishall not trouble you again, Mrs. Chatterton." And as the last wordswere spoken, she was out of the room.
"Pretty doings these!" Mr. King, by a dexterous movement, succeeded inslipping back of the portiere folds into the little writing-room, asPolly rushed out through the other doorway into the hall. "A fortunatething it was that I left Dick, to see what had become of Polly. Now,Cousin Eunice, you move from my house!" and descending the stairs, hecalled determinedly, "Polly, Polly, child!"
Polly, off in her own room now, heard him, and for the first time inher life, wished she need not answer.
"Polly--Polly!" the determined call rang down the passage, causing herto run fast with a "Yes, Grandpapa, I'm coming."
"Now, I should just like to inquire," began Mr. King, taking her by hertwo young shoulders and looking down into the flushed face, "what shehas been saying to you." "Oh, Grandpapa!" down went Polly's brown head,"don't make me tell. Please don't, Grandpapa."
"I shall!" declared Mr. King; "every blessed word. Now begin!"
"She--she wanted me to go out of the room," said Polly, in a reluctantgasp.
"Indeed!" snorted Mr. King. "Well, she will soon go out of that room.Indeed, I might say, out of the house."
"Oh, Grandpapa!" exclaimed Polly, in great distress, and raising thebrown eyes--he was dismayed to find them filling with tears--"don't,don't send her away! It is all my fault; indeed it is, Grandpapa!"
"Your fault," cried Mr. King irately; "you must not say such things,child; that's silly; you don't know the woman."
"Grandpapa," cried Polly, holding back the storm of tears to get thewords out, "I never told you--I couldn't--but I said perfectly dreadfulwords to her a week ago. Oh, Grandpapa! I did, truly."
"That's right," said the old gentleman in a pleased tone. "What werethey, pray tell? Let us know."
"Oh, Grandpapa, don't!" begged Polly, with a shiver; "I want to forgetthem."
"If you would only follow them up with more," said Mr. Kingmeditatively; "when it comes to tears, she must march, you know."
"I won't cry," said Polly, swallowing the lump in her throat, "if youwill only let her stay."
She turned to him such a distressed and white face that Mr. King stoodperplexedly looking down at her, having nothing to say.
"I'm tired of her," at last he said; "we are all tired of her; she hasabout worn us out."
"Grandpapa," cried Polly, seeing her advantage in his hesitation, "ifyou will only let her stay, I will never beg you for anything again."
"Well, then she goes," cried Mr. King shortly. "Goodness me, Polly, ifyou are going to stop asking favors, Cousin Eunice marches instanter!"
"Oh! I'll beg and tease for ever so many things," cried Pollyradiantly, her color coming back. "Will you let her stay,Grandpapa--will you?" She clasped his arm tightly and would not let himgo.
"Well," said Mr. King slowly, "I'll think about it, Polly."
"Will you?" cried Polly. "Dear Grandpapa, please say yes."
Mr. King drew a long breath. "Yes," he said at last.
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