A Summer in a Canyon Part 23

'No, my dear, I want you all to leave her alone at present,' said Mrs. Winship, decidedly. 'I've put her to bed in d.i.c.ky's play-tent, and I want her to be quiet. Gin has taken her some supper, and she needs rest.'

Polly Oliver in need of rest! What an incomprehensible statement!

n.o.body was satisfied, but there was nothing more to be said, though Bell and Philip exchanged glances as much as to say, 'Something is wrong.'

Supper ended, and they gathered round the camp-fire, but nothing was quite as usual. It was all very well to crack jokes, but where was a certain merry laugh that was wont to ring out, at the smallest provocation, in such an infectious way that everybody else followed suit? And who was there, when Polly had the headache, to make a saucy speech and look down into the fire innocently, while her dimples did everything that was required in order to point the shaft?

And pray what was the use of singing when there was no alto to Bell's treble, or of giving conundrums, since it was always Polly who thought of nonsensical answers better than the real ones? And as for Jack, why, it was folly to shoot arrows of wit into the air when there was no target. He simply stretched himself out beside Elsie, who was particularly quiet and snoozed peacefully, without taking any part in the conversation, avowing his intention to 'turn in' early.

'Turn in' early, forsooth! What was the matter with the boy?

'It's no use,' said Bell, plaintively; 'we can't be anything but happy, now that we have Elsie here; but it needs only one small headache to show that Polly fills a long-felt want in this camp. You think of her as a modest spoke in the wheel till she disappears, and then you find she was the hub.'

'Yes,' said Margery, 'I think every one round this fire is simply angelic, unless I except Jack; but the fact is that Polly is--well, she is--Polly, and I dare any one to contradict me.'

'The judgment of the court is confirmed,' said Philip.

'And the shark said, "If you Don't believe it is true, Just look at my wisdom tooth!"'

sang Geoffrey.

'And if any one ever tells me again that she has red hair and hasn't good features, I should just like to show them a picture of her as she was to-day at the dinner-table!' exclaimed Bell.

'As if anybody needed features with those dimples,' added Elsie, 'or would mind red hair when it was such pretty hair!'

'I think a report of this conversation would go far towards curing Polly,' said Dr. Winship, with a smile.

'And you say we can't go in there before we go to bed, mamacita?'

whispered Bell in her mother's ear, as the boys said good-night--and went towards their tent.

'My dear,' she answered decidedly, with a fond kiss for each of the girls, 'Polly herself asked me to keep everybody away.'

Polly herself wanted to be alone! Would wonders never cease?

Meanwhile d.i.c.ky, who had disappeared for a moment, came back to the fire, his bosom heaving with grief and rage.

'I went to my play-tent,' he sobbed, 'and putted my hand underneath the curtain and gave Polly a piece of my supper cake I saved for her- -not the frosted part, but the burnt part I couldn't eat--and she liked it and kissed my hand--and then I fought she was lonesome, and would like to see my littlest frog, and I told her to put out her hand again for a s'prise, and I squeezed him into it tight, so 't he wouldn't jump--and she fought it was more cake, and when she found it wasn't she frew my littlest frog clear away, and it got losted!'

This brought a howl of mirth from everybody, and d.i.c.ky was instructed, while being put to bed, not to squeeze little frogs into people's hands in the dark, as it sometimes affected them unpleasantly.

All this time Polly was lying in the tent, quite exhausted with crying, and made more wretched by every sound of voices wafted towards her. Presently Gin appeared with her night-wrapper and various things for comfort sent her by the girls; and as she wearily undressed herself and prepared for the night, she found three little messages of comfort pinned on the neck and sleeves of her flannel gown, written in such colossal letters that she could easily read them by the moonlight.

On the right sleeve:-

Cheer up! 'I will never desert Mr. Micawber!' BELL

On the left sleeve:-

Darling Polly,--Get well soon, or we shall all be sick in order to stay with you. Lovingly, MEG.

PS.--Jack said you were the LIFE OF THE CAMP! What do you think of that?? M.

On the neck:-

Dearest,--You have always called me the Fairy G.o.dmother, and pretended I could see things that other people couldn't.

The boys (great stupids!) think you have the headache. We girls can all see that you are in trouble, but only the Fairy G.o.dmother KNOWS WHY; and though she can't make a beautiful gold coach out of this pumpkin, because there's something wrong about the pumpkin, yet she will do her best for Cinderella, and pull her out of the ashes somehow.

ELSIE.

Polly's tears fell fast on the dear little notes, which she kissed again and again, and tucked under her pillow to bring her sleep.

'Elsie knows something,' she thought, 'but how? she knows that I'm in trouble and that I've done wrong, or she wouldn't have said that about not being able to turn a bad pumpkin into a beautiful gold coach; but perhaps she can get Aunt Truth to forgive me and try me again. Unless she can do it, it will never come to pa.s.s, for I haven't the courage to ask her. I would rather run away early in the morning and go home than have her look at me again as she did to-day.

Oh! what shall I do?' and Polly went down on her knees beside the rough couch, and sobbed her heart out in a childish prayer for help and comfort. It was just the prayer of a little child telling a sorrowful story; because it is when we are alone and in trouble that the unknown and mysterious G.o.d seems to us most like a Father, and we throw ourselves into the arms of His love like helpless children, and tell Him our secret thoughts and griefs.

'Dear Father in heaven,' she sobbed, 'don't forgive me if I ought not to be forgiven, but please make Aunt Truth feel how sorry I am, and show me whether I ought to tell what made me so angry, though it's no excuse. Bless and keep my darling patient little mother, and help me to grow more like her, and braver and stronger too, so that I can take care of her soon, and she needn't work hard any longer. Please forgive me for hating some things in my life as much as I do, and I will try and like them better; but I think--yes, I know--that I am full of wicked pride; and oh, it seems as if I could never, never get over wanting to live in a pretty house, and wear pretty dresses, and have my mother live like Bell's and Margery's. And oh, if Thou canst only forgive me for hating boarders so dreadfully, and being ashamed of them every minute, I will try and like them better and tell everybody that we take them--I will indeed; and if I can only once make Aunt Truth love and trust me again, I will make the boarders'

beds and dust their rooms for ever without grumbling. Please, dear Father in heaven, remember that I haven't any father to love me or to teach me to be good; and though mamma does her best, please help her to make something out of me if it can be done. Amen.'

'Truth,' said Mrs. Howard, when all was quiet about the camp, 'Elsie wants to see you a moment before she goes to sleep. Will you go to her tent, while I play a game of cribbage with Dr. Paul?'

Elsie looked like a blossom in all the beautiful greenness of her tent, with her yellow head coming out from above the greens and browns of the cretonne bed-cover for all the world like a daffodil pushing its way up through the mould towards the spring sunshine.

'Aunt Truth,' she said softly, as Mrs. Winship sat down beside her, 'you remember that Dr. Paul hung my hammock in a new place to-day, just behind the girls' sleeping-tent. Now I know that Polly is in trouble, and that you are displeased with her. What I want to ask, if I may, is, how much you know; for I overheard a great deal myself- -enough to feel that Polly deserves a hearing.'

'I overheard nothing,' replied Mrs. Winship. 'All that I know Polly herself confessed in Laura's presence. Polly told Laura, just as she was going away, that everybody would be glad to see the last of her, and that she had made everybody miserable from the beginning of her visit. It was quite inexcusable, you know, dear, for one of my guests to waylay another, just as she was leaving, and make such a cruel speech. I would rather anything else had happened. I know how impetuous Polly is, and I can forgive the child almost anything, her heart is so full of love and generosity; but I cannot overlook such a breach of propriety as that. Of course I have seen that Laura is not a favourite with any of you. I confess she is not a very lovable person, and I think she has led a very unwholesome life lately and is sadly spoiled by it; still that is no excuse for Polly's conduct.'

'No, of course it isn't,' sighed Elsie, with a little quiver of the lip. 'I thought I could plead a better case for Polly, but I see exactly how thoughtless and impolite she was; yet, if you knew everything, auntie, dear, you would feel a little different. Do you think it was nice of Laura to repeat what Polly said right before her, and just as she was going away, when she knew it would make you uncomfortable and that you were not to blame for it?'

'No, hardly. It didn't show much tact; but girls of fifteen or sixteen are not always remarkable for social tact. I excused her partly because she was half-sick and nervous.'

'Well,' Elsie went on, 'I didn't hear the whole quarrel, so that I do not know how long it lasted nor who began it. I can't help thinking it was Laura, though, for she's been trying her best to provoke Polly for the last fortnight, and until to-day she has never really succeeded. I was half asleep, and heard at first only the faint murmur of voices, but when I was fully awake, Laura was telling Polly that she doted on you simply because you had money and position, while she had not; that you were all so partial to her that she had lost sight of her own deficiencies. Then she called her bold and affected, and I don't know what else, and finally wound up by saying that n.o.body but the Winships would be likely to make a pet of the daughter of a boarding-house keeper.'

'Elsie!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Winship; 'this grows worse and worse! Is it possible that Laura Burton could be guilty of such a thought?'

'I can't be mistaken. I was too excited not to hear very clearly; and the moment the words were spoken I knew my poor dear's fiery temper would never endure that. And it didn't; it blazed out in a second, but it didn't last long, for before I could get to the tent she had stopped herself right in the middle of a sentence; and in another minute I heard your voice, and crept back to the hammock, thinking that everything would be settled by Laura's going away. I'd no idea that she would pounce on Polly and get her in disgrace, the very last thing, when she knew that she was responsible for the whole matter. You see, auntie, that, impolite as Polly was, she only told Laura that we girls were glad she was going. She didn't bring you in, after all; and Laura knew perfectly well that she was a welcome visitor, and we all treated her with the greatest politeness, though it's no use to say we liked her much.'

'I am very sorry for the whole affair,' sighed Mrs. Winship, 'there is so much wrong on both sides. Laura's remark, it is true, would have angered almost anybody who was not old and wise enough to see that it deserved only contempt; but both the girls should have had too much respect for themselves and for me to descend to such an unladylike quarrel. However, I am only too glad to hear anything which makes Polly's fault less, for I love her too dearly not to suffer when I have to be severe with her.'

'She wouldn't ask you to overlook her fault,' continued Elsie, with tears in her eyes. 'I know just how wretched and penitent she must be--Polly is always so fierce against her own faults--but what must be making her suffer most is the thought that she has entirely lost your confidence and good opinion. Oh, I can't help thinking that G.o.d feels sorrier this very minute for Polly, who fights and fights against her temper, like a dear sunbeam trying to shine again and again when a cloud keeps covering it up, than He does for Laura, who has everything made smooth for her, and who is unhappy when her feathers are ruffled the least bit.'

'You are right, dear, in so far that a fiery little soul like Polly's can, if it finds the right channels, do G.o.d's work in the world better than a character like Laura's, which is not courageous, nor strong, nor sweet enough for great service, unless it grows into better things through bitter or rich experiences. Now, good-night, my blessed little peacemaker; sleep sweetly, for I am going into Polly's tent to have a good talk with her.'

As Mrs. Winship dropped the curtains of Elsie's tent behind her, and made her way quietly through the trees, the tinkling sound of a banjo fell upon the still night air; and presently, as she neared Polly's retreat, this facetious serenade, sung by Jack's well-known voice, was wafted to her ears: