Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 20

"We might not," he objected.

"Oh, yes, we should have!" she insisted. "Because everybody knows you're at the hospital, and they'd send word to father first thing."

"They would, wouldn't they?" he brightened.

"Of course," she returned confidently.

"But why doesn't he come?" he persisted.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied cheerfully. "Maybe he had to go away on business--father does sometimes, and can't stop for anything. But I wouldn't worry another bit, if I were you. When he comes and tells you all about it, you'll wonder why you didn't think it was all right--just as it is."

Chris said nothing, only gazed into Polly's face, as if to gather even more a.s.surance than her words had given him.

"I'm going to tell you about a blizzard we had last winter," Polly went on, "when father went to New York and mother was sick, and I was all alone." Then, seeing she had her hearer's attention, she began the story of the well-remembered February day.

Her voice was soft and soothing, and before the tale was half-told the sky-blue eyes closed and the tired little boy was asleep. This was well, as the messenger who had finally been sent to Mr. Morrow's boarding-place returned with the word that the man had not been there since early the previous day, and n.o.body knew where he had gone.

The next morning Chris received from his father a short letter saying that urgent business had suddenly called him to New York, where he had been most unexpectedly detained so that he might not be able to return home under a day or two, but that he should come to the hospital just as soon as he arrived in Fair Harbor. A number of beautiful post-cards were inclosed in the envelope, one of which was immediately laid aside for Polly, and then at once exchanged for another that might be a bit more attractive. This exchange went on for some time, until she had been allotted them all in turn, and the nurse was finally called into counsel for a last decision.

When Polly came in for a flying visit before school, she was given her present, which she received with genuine pleasure, for the little card was an exquisite creation, and the fact that Chris wished her to have the very prettiest of his treasures made it doubly dear.

Three days dragged by before Mr. Morrow again appeared at the hospital. Then it was at a much later hour than usual, and the small boy was asleep. His father insisted on awakening him, however, and their meeting, the nurse a.s.serted, was not without tears on both sides.

On the day that little Chris was to leave the hospital, Polly paid him a long visit, and there were many plans and promises for the future.

It was arranged that Chris should come up to see Polly at least every Sat.u.r.day, as soon as he was well enough, and until that time Polly was to ride across the city with her father to visit him. When, at last, the six o'clock bell told of a supper that would soon be coming in on a tray, and of the one awaiting Polly at home, the good-byes had to be said. Then the lad drew from beneath his pillow a small leather case.

"I wanted to give you something," he said wistfully, "so daddy bought me this. I hope you'll like it. I think it's pretty."

Polly opened the dainty box, to find, on a cushion of white velvet, an exquisite pansy pin, with green-gold leaves, the blossom studded with sapphires and diamonds.

"Oh, how beautiful!" she cried delightedly. "I never saw anything so lovely."

"I thought you'd like it," he beamed. "Just hold it up to your neck--it looks sweet there! You'll keep it always to remember me by, won't you?"

"Forever," promised Polly. "Oh, it is so nice of your father to buy it for me!"

"He's always nice," praised Chris. "There couldn't be anybody better."

And for the moment Polly almost agreed with him.

But when Dr. Dudley saw the pretty ornament he looked grave.

"It is far too expensive a present for you to accept," he objected.

"Diamonds and sapphires are costly stones. This must be worth a great deal of money."

"Can't I keep it then?" questioned Polly plaintively. "It will break Chris's heart if I don't."

"We needn't decide the matter to-night." He looked across the table to his wife. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," was the doubtful reply. "How can Mr. Morrow buy such jewelry, do you suppose? A night watchman's position cannot bring him very high wages."

The Doctor shook his head, and narrowed his eyes in thought. Then he began to talk of other things.

Meantime Polly was in distress. What would Chris say, if she had to give back his beautiful present which she had promised always to keep?

The next afternoon Dr. Dudley brought the matter to a climax by driving over to see the father of little Chris. Perhaps a talk with him would put things in a different light. Thus reasoning, he rang the doorbell at Mr. Morrow's boarding-house.

"They ain't here," began the woman who answered his summons. "They got off, bag and baggage, before breakfast, this morning. He paid up all right," she exulted, "an' when they do that I'm done with 'em. He was a good payin' man straight along, I'll say that for him; but where he's gone I do' know no more 'n West Peak!"

Questioning among the boarders brought no satisfaction, and the Doctor returned home mystified and suspicious.

It was long before Polly saw little Chris again.

CHAPTER XIII

ILGA BARRON

Spring was in Fair Harbor. Tulips and hyacinths flaunted their gay gowns in the city parks, and daffodils laughed in old-fashioned gardens. Flocks of blackbirds, by the suburb roadsides, creaked their joy in the sunshine, and robins caroled love ditties to their mates.

Mrs. Jocelyn's stable, too, told of spring's coming, for there stood one of the prettiest pairs of ponies that ever trotted before a carriage.

Already Leonora was becoming an experienced little horsewoman, though whenever she drove there was always Philip, Mrs. Jocelyn's man, riding close behind. Polly had had a dozen drives with David and Jonathan, and Elsie and Brida and the others had not been forgotten.

On a Sat.u.r.day morning Leonora telephoned early and invited Polly to go to Crab Cove, some six miles away. The day was perfect, blue overhead, green along the waysides, and sunshine all around. The girls were in a merry mood.

"There's Ilga Barron out in her yard," remarked Polly, looking ahead.

"M-h'm," replied Leonora indifferently, glancing that way.

"You haven't taken her to ride yet, have you?" Polly went on.

"No, and I'm not going to," was the decided answer.

"Why, you'll have to ask her sometime, shan't you?" insisted Polly.

"Say, Leonora, drive slow a minute!"

"What do you want?" began the other, a bit of impatience in her tone.

"I just happened to think,"--the words were tumbling out fast,--"I've had ever so many rides, and Patricia and Lilith and Gladys have, and Ilga will feel it if she is skipped. Mayn't I run over and ask her to take my place for this once? I can go any time, you know! Do you mind?" for Leonora's face showed disapproval.

"Oh, dear! I don't want her!" fretted the little driver. "I wish she hadn't been out there. I wish we'd gone some other way. Yes, go ahead, if you want to!" she yielded, seeing Polly's wistful eyes.

"I'll try to be good to her."

The carriage stopped in front of the big granite house, and the exchange was soon made. Ilga was only too ready for a drive behind the ponies which were the envy of every girl who saw them.

Polly waved them a gay good-bye, and turned towards home.