Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 22

"Hoh, I can read you like a book! Your mother sick?"

"No, oh, no! But I can't be here at the party!"

"Why not?" Ilga raised herself on her elbow.

"We had a letter from Cousin Floyd last night, and they want me to come to New York Wednesday morning."

"Well, you aren't obliged to go, if they do! Oh, you haven't a bit of s.p.u.n.k!"

"It isn't that, Ilga. Father thinks I ought to go, seeing it's my vacation, and so does mother. Two of my girl cousins that I haven't ever seen are going to sail for Germany in a day or two, and they aren't coming back for years, maybe, and they want me to help them receive at their farewell party--"

"Oh, yes! I s'pose their party's better'n mine!" Ilga burst out scornfully. "If you do go, Polly Dudley, let me tell you I'll never speak--"

"My dear!" Miss Price arrested the rash words on Ilga's lips, and took the hot cheeks between her cool palms.

The excited girl sobbed out her penitence and her disappointment in the nurse's arms, while Polly sat by, distressed at the way things were going.

When the tears were spent, the three talked the matter over quietly,--or as quietly as Ilga would allow. At first she decided peremptorily that if Polly could not be there she would have no party at all; but arguments and persuasions finally had their effect, and the plans were left unaltered, Glen Stewart being chosen in place of Polly.

CHAPTER XIV

POLLY IN NEW YORK

Polly's first journey by herself caused a good deal of excitement in Lady Gay Cottage. Mrs. Dudley was a little nervous at thought of it, the Doctor wondered at the very last moment if he had been unwise to allow her to go alone, and for Polly herself the new experience almost pushed Ilga Barron and the tea-party from her mind. But the miles were traveled without any startling adventure, and in two hours she was in New York, with Cousin Floyd clasping her in his arms and telling her how glad he was to see her.

The next days were so crammed with novel sights and undreamed-of pleasures that Polly felt as if she were in a new kind of merry-go-round and must stop and take breath. But she whirled on and on, in company with her cousins and other girls and boys, and everybody was so kind and so gay that she found not a moment to be homesick or lonely in, although Fair Harbor seemed a very long way off.

From the first she and her Cousin Harold were comrades. They discovered that they had read the same books, that they enjoyed the same sports, that they loved the same flowers and songs and fairy-tale heroes. Harold had always envied boys with sisters, and now his dream of a sister for himself seemed actually to have come to pa.s.s--only he knew that the waking time must be soon.

Ever since it had been decided that Polly should come to New York she had wondered with a vague fear if her relatives would urge her to remain with them; but for a few days nothing was said of it. Then Harold spoke out.

"I wish you were really my sister," he told her, as they stood together watching the antics of some monkeys at the Hippodrome; "then we could come here every Sat.u.r.day."

"You couldn't come," Polly laughed. "You'd be away at school."

"No," was the serious reply, "I should get father to let me go to school here. If you'd stay and be my cousin-sister, it would be just exactly as good--oh, Polly! won't you?"

Her lips drooped sorrowfully. "I can't! truly I can't!" she answered, just as she had answered his brother, in Fair Harbor.

Then they went past the cage of the very funniest monkeys of all, and Harold did not even smile.

The day before the one set for Polly's going home she was given a grand party by her cousins, and Uncle Maurice ordered the affair with a free hand. She had never seen a house so converted into a garden of flowers. Wandering about from room to room, she and Harold watched the men as they placed potted plants, twined garlands, banked windows and fireplaces with vines and blossoms, and arranged pretty nooks of greenery and color. Finally they sat down in a little make-believe arbor of roses, Polly busily admiring everything.

Harold was more quiet; he was even grave. At last his thoughts became words.

"Oh, Polly, stay with me! do! I want you!"

"Why, Harold, you know I told you I couldn't!" she answered, almost reprovingly.

"I know you say so," he retorted; "but you can! You can as well as not! You just don't want to--that's why! But I think you might, to please me! Do, Polly!"

She plucked a bit of green from her cousin's coat sleeve before she replied.

"I don't see how I could leave father and mother," she said softly.

"You wouldn't want to give up your home here and your father and brothers to go and live with me."

"Yes, I would!" was the unexpected response. "I'd go in a minute!

Polly, I'd go anywhere or do anything for you!"

The boy believed it, and, looking into his earnest eyes, Polly almost believed it, too. She did not know how to answer. Then she shifted the viewpoint.

"But father and mother--you don't think of them! How could they get along without any little girl?--without me?"

Harold thought and sighed. This was a new light on the matter.

"No, they couldn't," he admitted slowly. "They've known you longer than I have, and I don't see how they could give you up. Well, I suppose I shall have to let you go." He looked the disconsolate lover, instead of the merry-hearted boy of ten.

Two weeks before, when Polly's small trunk had been packed, she had begged to be allowed to take with her the parting present of Chris Morrow, for hitherto there had been no occasion grand enough to warrant its being used. At first Mrs. Dudley had been in doubt, but after a few quite reasonable arguments on the part of Polly the little case had been tucked into a safe corner. The beautiful ornament had already fastened Polly's sash a number of times, and it was again called into service for the home party. She was in a hurry when the maid clasped it, for Harold was calling her to come out in the hall and see the caterers bring the things in, and before the evening was half spent her sash was trailing out of place and the pin missing.

Hastily she confided to her cousin her misfortune, and together they searched up and down the rooms. Finally, just as Harold was starting to tell Floyd of the loss, they heard a cry of surprise from one of the guests not far away, and they saw that the pansy pin was in her hand.

"I found it right down here!" the girl was saying excitedly. "Where do you s'pose it came from? Oh, it's just like one my sister had that was stolen by a burglar last winter--why!" as the back of the pin was disclosed, "it is hers! There's the 'B' I scratched one day, and Tip gave me an awful scolding for it! I was going to scratch my whole name, but she caught me too quick--my, didn't she come at me!"

Harold waited for no more.

"It belongs to my cousin," he explained. "She just lost it from her sash, and we've been hunting everywhere for it."

He held out his hand for the ornament, but the finder clasped it tightly in her palm.

"It is my sister's," she declared. "The burglars--"

"Botheration!" he cried. "Of course, it isn't the same pin! This one is Polly's. It was a present to her, and she thinks a lot of it."

"But I scratched the 'B'--"

"Probably somebody else scratched this. Did you, Polly?" turning to his cousin.

"No," she admitted slowly, "I didn't; but I noticed the 'B,' and wondered how it came to be there. I don't see how it could have been your sister's," she said, addressing the girl who still kept the pin hidden in her hand. "Chris's father bought it for him to give to me."

Those most interested in this little controversy were now surrounded by the young guests who were eager to know the cause of the dispute.

Floyd and Julian pressed near, but before they reached Polly's side she had bravely settled the question.

"Keep the pin," she yielded gently. "I should not wish to have it back again if you think it belongs to your sister. Come, Harold!" and turning from the little crowd she ran into the arms of Floyd.

He drew her away to a retired spot, followed only by the eyes of a few curious ones, and the story was told, beginning with little Chris and ending with Bertha Kingstone.