Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 10

"When I go, we'll all go!" declared Polly, "and you can tell Mrs.

Illingworth that." Which sent the Doctor off smiling.

Polly cuddled down contentedly in her mother's arms.

"I'm sorry for Patricia," she sighed.

Mrs. Dudley knew Polly, and waited.

"I suppose Mrs. Illingworth is very nice," she went on, a moment after; "but she isn't cuddly, like you. I asked Patricia once if she didn't sit in her mother's lap, and she said no, she was too big a girl. She is hardly any taller than I am. She didn't say it a bit as if she thought so herself. I guess her mother doesn't want her beautiful dresses mussed up--that's it! I love Patricia, but, oh, I'm glad I am not going to live with them!"

Mrs. Dudley bent her head, and whispered soft words of caress, grateful that to Polly it was given to weigh the things of life in a true balance.

Patricia mourned with many words over Dr. Dudley's refusal of her mother's offer; but the friendship of the new cousins was not lessened, and they were often at each other's homes.

CHAPTER VII

THE BLIZZARD

On a gray morning in early February Dr. Dudley started for New York.

"I shall probably be back on the nine o'clock train," he told his wife; "but the paper says there is a big snowstorm on the way, and for fear I may be delayed I have left word for Joe to come and fill up the heater." Joe was a boy that did odd jobs about the house, and was familiar with the heater. "He will probably be here early in the evening," the Doctor went on; "but I can see to it again when I get home."

Polly went to school with the snowflakes flying around her. Patricia overtook her on the way.

"Where's David?" she asked.

"He has a cold, and isn't coming," Polly replied. "He telephoned over just now."

"Oh, that's too bad!" lamented Patricia. "I had set my heart on having you and him this afternoon. Cousin Lester and Aunt Florence are coming from Nevada. Mamma heard last night. He is your cousin, too, same as I am. You'll like him; Lester's all right! He is just David's age--it is a shame David can't come! Won't your mother let you stay home from school? I'm going to."

"I don't know," said Polly. "Wouldn't after do?"

"Not enough time," Patricia declared. "I want you and Lester to get well acquainted; he is the nicest boy you ever saw!"

"Except David."

Patricia laughed. "I guess you won't except anybody when you've seen Lester. Well, make your mother let school go for once!"

"I'll ask her," Polly promised.

"Tease!" urged Patricia. "Tease like everything!"

Polly said nothing; but there were twinkles in her brown eyes.

When school was dismissed, the storm was increasing, and Polly rode home beside her cousin in the limousine.

She found the back door unlocked, but the kitchen was empty, and there were seemingly no preparations for dinner. She hastened from room to room, and finally went upstairs.

"What is the matter?" she asked in dismayed tone, for her mother was lying on her bed, white with suffering.

"It came on suddenly--this pain." She put her hand to her forehead, moaning.

Polly stood quite still, distress in her face. She waited until the spasm had pa.s.sed, and then said gently, "Can't I get you something?"

"No. It is that neuralgia over my eye. I have had it before, but never like this. The medicine doesn't seem to take hold. If it isn't better soon, I'll have to try something else."

"I wish father were home. Shan't I call Dr. Rodman?"

"Oh, no! It is growing easier. Run down and eat your dinner; I left it in the oven."

"Have you had yours?"

"All I want."

Polly lingered, irresolute, her anxious eyes on her mother's face.

Mrs. Dudley smiled faintly. "Go, dear. There is nothing you can do for me."

Polly ate a scant meal, and washed the few dishes. Then she thought of Patricia. Softly shutting the door of the living-room, she went to the telephone.

Patricia herself answered.

"I'm awfully sorry," Polly told her, "but I can't come."

"Oh, Polly Dudley!" Patricia broke in, "you said you would!"

"Mother is sick," Polly explained, "and I mustn't leave her."

"Can't she stay alone? I shouldn't think she'd mind. You ask her. Oh, you must come! Mamma'll send for you, and you can stay all night. Your father'll be home then. Say, run and see if your mother won't let you come! I'll hold the wire."

"I can't, Patricia. You don't know how sick mother is. I wouldn't leave her for anything."

"Oh, botheree! You've just gone and spoiled all my good time!"

Polly heard the receiver slammed on its hook. She sat for a minute wondering if she could say anything to amend matters, but finally turned away. Patricia's vexation was never lasting.

She listened at the foot of the stairs, and then tiptoed up. Her mother lay as if asleep, and she crept noiselessly into her own room.

Outside the prospect was cheerless. Few people and fewer teams were abroad. Wind and snow were in command, beating the window panes, thrashing the bare trees, whirling round house corners with a shriek and a roar. Polly turned from the cold tumult feeling strangely desolate. She read and wandered about by turns, wondering if ever there were any other afternoon so long. At last a sound from her mother's room sent her thither. Mrs. Dudley was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Is it worse?" Polly faltered.

A murmured affirmative was the only answer.