Polly and the Princess Part 51

"Why not? What's the matter?"

"That Miss Puddicombe!" The boy's face told more than his words.

"She said Mr. Randolph was worse, and for me not to come again till he got well."

"0-o-h!" cried Polly. "What has she got to do about it! She'd better wait till she's married before she begins to dictate!"

Doodles shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't see how my singing could hurt him. She talked as if it was all my fault!"

"Nonsense!" scorned Polly. "More likely it is she herself! Don't worry, Doodles! He will get well pretty soon, and then things will be all right again; but--oh, dear, I wish he would hurry up!"

The next evening David brought the dismaying word that the president of the Paper Company had gone to Atlantic City for several weeks.

Polly was distressed over the situation until her mother suggested the happy thought that no doubt he would recover more rapidly than at home. Then Polly smiled again and was ready to enjoy David's new flute solo.

In her weeks of waiting Polly came to a new appreciation of David.

Her closest girl friends were out of town, her mother unusually busy with some church work, her intercourse with Juanita Sterling limited to a few perfunctory calls; and except for David's cheery visits she would have been lonely indeed. Not a day but the boy appeared, often with flute or banjo, and he made himself so delightfully entertaining that Polly would forget the June Holiday Home and its troubles.

Lurking in the background, however, ready to leap forward as soon as she should be alone, was the torturing fact that Miss Sniffen still kept cruel wardship over her prisoners, and she counted over and over, joyfully marking them off one by one on her calendar, the days before Mr. Randolph would be at home again.

Still, it was not a very long waiting time, after all, and one bright morning Polly entered the private office of the president of the Paper Company.

Now that she was actually there, face to face with the "lovable man" in whom she found so much to admire, she hardly knew how to begin. But, suddenly realizing that the president's time was precious, she dashed into the matter at once.

"It is about the Home, Mr. Randolph, that I have been wanting to see you for so long. I was coming right after Miss Twining got sick, and then you were ill yourself. Before you were well enough to see visitors you went away, and there hasn't been a single chance until now. Oh, Mr. Randolph, do you know how affairs are going on over there? Haven't you ever guessed?"

"Why--what do you mean, Polly? Nothing wrong, is there?"

"Everything!" Polly's hands dropped with emphasis into her lap.

"None of the ladies have dared say a word, because if they find any fault they are liable to be turned out. So they have borne it all as well as they could. I wanted to come to you a good while ago, but they wouldn't hear to it. Finally things got to such a pa.s.s that we four, Miss Nita, Mrs. Albright, Miss Crilly, and I, said that something must be done. We thought you were the best one to tell, for you have always been such a friend--we could trust you'"

"You can, Polly!" He smiled across to her. "You need not be afraid of my divulging the source of my information."

"Oh, I don't care if folks do know my part in it, but the others would rather you wouldn't give their names--unless it is necessary.

Miss Sniffen turned me out weeks ago!"

"Turned you out? For what?"

"Oh, because I told Miss Lily to cling to the bal.u.s.trade so she wouldn't fall! That is, it started there. She said I'd got the ladies into all sorts of sc.r.a.pes. She scolded me for lots of things--one was that dance in the pasture. She said it was scandalous. I don't care so much what she does to me, only my not seeing Miss Nita. But the ladies are actually afraid of their lives! When Miss Twining was abused so, those that knew wondered whose turn would come next. Why, Mr. Randolph, Miss Sniffen almost killed Miss Twining!--Oh, of course, she didn't mean to!" For the man had started up with an exclamation of horror. "I think she was thoroughly frightened when Miss Twining fainted."

"But what did she do?"

"Why, she went up to Miss Twining's room, late one night, and carried a riding-whip,--she had threatened that afternoon to 'flog'

her--and it upset Miss Twining and brought on a fainting turn. Now Miss Sniffen keeps her locked in all the time! I don't know what she would do if it weren't for Mrs. Albright! She rooms right across the hall, and her key fits the lock; so she goes in every little while. There's a card on her door, saying she's too ill to see visitors."

"That is the feeble-minded one, isn't it?"

"No!" flashed Polly. "She's not feeble-minded any more than you are! That's just a bluff! Miss Sniffen got scared and made up all that rubbish! Miss Twining is beautiful. I love her--oh, I love her dearly! She writes the nicest poetry! Father says it is real poetry, too."

"Why did Miss Sniffen wish to whip her?"

"Just because she wouldn't tell who gave her some money. She couldn't--she had promised not to! And it was her own money! But I must begin at the beginning, or you can't understand."

Polly drew a long breath, and recounted the details of the sad story.

"The next morning I happened to go over to see Miss Nita," she concluded, "and Mrs. Albright told me this. Miss Crilly was there, too. Miss Crilly rooms right next to Miss Twining and heard a good deal; but she didn't dare to stir."

Nelson Randolph gazed at Polly with troubled eyes, and rested his arm upon his desk.

"David Collins overheard something one night," she went on. "He was going up Edgewood Avenue when he came upon Mrs. n.o.bbs and a man,--probably her brother,--and what Mrs. n.o.bbs was saying made him keep along behind them, instead of pa.s.sing as he was intending to do."

As the talk was repeated, the listener's face grew stern, and when Polly came to the end of her story he fingered the little silver elephant upon his desk before he spoke.

"You say that the board is not what it should be?"

"It is poor, dreadfully poor, Mr. Randolph. Lately they've had stale meat and sour bread--and hardly any fruit or green vegetables all summer long!"

"Yet her accounts stand for expensive roasts, lamb chops, early fruits when they are highest in price--the best of everything!"

"They never get on the table," a.s.serted Polly. "Miss Nita and the others have spoken again and again of their wretched living. And the cooking is awful!"

"I am told that she pays her cook fifty dollars a month."

"I don't know what she pays," Polly replied, "but they seldom have good cooking. She is changing help all the time."

"We have trusted her implicitly," the president mused. "Her father was a man of undoubted honor."

"I don't see that it would be much worse to steal from the Home than to take Miss Twining's money or Miss Nita's cards or--"

"Cards? From Miss Sterling?" broke in Nelson Randolph quickly.

"Didn't you put your cards in those boxes of roses you sent her?"

asked Polly.

"Certainly."

"She never saw any! Miss Castlevaine was going upstairs and happened to see that first box of roses on the hall desk. Miss Sniffen was fingering a card. When Miss Nita received the box there was no card there. That was why she was so long in saying 'thank you,'--she didn't know where they came from. We finally found out through the boy who brought them."

Nelson Randolph frowned. "A pretty state of affairs!" he muttered.

"And she never got one of your telephone messages!" Polly went on.

"What!" the man exclaimed.

"She didn't!" Polly reiterated.

"But Miss Sterling gave me no hint of such a thing!"

"No." Polly returned sadly. "I guess she didn't dare."