Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 27

"I knew it wasn't Lone Star's step," David replied. "Besides, he doesn't come home so early as this."

"Oh, say," Polly broke out in an undertone of excitement, "let's go up on Oregon Avenue! Maybe we should meet them!"

"I don't suppose they always go that way," mused David; "but it wouldn't do any harm to take a walk--"

"No, come on!" urged Polly, jumping up. "But I must lock the house first. Mother has a key."

"I'll help," volunteered David, following Polly into the front hall.

With windows and doors secure behind them, the two started for Oregon Avenue, Polly talking all the way.

"It was along here that you saw them, wasn't it?" she questioned softly, as if fearful that her voice might carry to the piazza parties that lined the pleasant street.

"Just about," David answered; "but it's lighter further on. There's a carriage block in front of that big gray house where you can sit down and rest."

"I'm not a bit tired," Polly insisted, yet to please David she sat dutifully on the stone indicated for at least three minutes; then she suddenly decided that it was too conspicuous, and they moved on up the avenue.

The night was warm and still. Occasionally a puff of cooler air would meet the children at some dusky driveway or odorous garden, and they would halt to enjoy it. From dark verandas and brilliant houses laughter and song floated out to them as they pa.s.sed along. Altogether this stalking Colonel Gresham was rather a delightful affair, and sometimes in the pleasure of the moment their errand would be almost forgotten.

Not many carriages were abroad, and this was not one of the highways frequented by motor-cars. Every vehicle, therefore, claimed the children's attention. Far up the avenue, on a corner where an arc light cast fitful shadows over the intersecting roadways, they stopped to catch a breeze straying up from the harbor. Polly was blithely chattering.

"'Sh!" whispered David.

The sound of hoofs came faintly through the stillness.

"I believe it is!" Polly whispered back.

David nodded eagerly.

"Dear me, how that light bobs up and down!" Polly complained. "I hope it will be bright when they get here."

"Let's stand in the shadow!" David pulled her under a broad maple tree.

On came the hoofs, nearer, nearer. The light suddenly flared.

"Oh, goody!" exulted Polly.

"It is Lone Star!" whispered David.

The familiar horse appeared in the flickering circle of light. Behind him the form of a man and a woman were barely discernible--then utter darkness! Lone Star trotted by the discomfited two, and was gone. The light did not come back. The children clutched each other in silent disappointment. Polly was the first to find words.

"Wasn't that just mean?"

David laughed--a grim little laugh.

"Don't! It hurts. I'm too mad to laugh."

He chuckled. Then he grabbed Polly excitedly.

"Come on!" he cried.

"Where?" breathlessly hurrying along by his side.

"The avenue makes a big curve above here, before it gets to the fork, and we can go straight up this next street and head 'em off, maybe--they're going pretty slow."

"I don't b'lieve we can."

"We'll try it anyhow. You're not tired?"

"Oh, no!"

Racing over long stretches, slowing to catch breath, then running again,--thus the fork was finally reached. But no Lone Star or the thud of his feet greeted eyes or ears.

"I might have known we couldn't go as fast as Lone Star!" David exclaimed disgustedly.

"You don't s'pose they've gone up to Cherry Hill Park, do you?"

questioned Polly. "It's just above here, you know."

"Perhaps. Want to try it?"

Of course she did, and on they trudged, taking note of neither time nor distance, until all at once Polly was conscious of weariness.

"It seems further afoot than in an automobile, doesn't it?" she laughed.

"Yes," nodded David; "but we're almost there. Wonder which road they'd be likely to take."

Polly could not even guess, so they followed the driveways at random, on, and on, and on.

There was no lack of company. Young men and women, walking cozily close; wandering lovers from over the sea, like children hand in hand; groups of laughing, chattering girls and boys;--all these, but never a Lone Star or a dignified Colonel with his possible sweetheart.

"Let's sit down and rest," proposed David. "You must be tired."

They dropped on a convenient bench, and Polly let go a sleepy little yawn.

"I don't believe there's any use in waiting round here," began David.

Polly did not reply. Her head was drooping.

The lad drew her gently to his shoulder.

"I guess--I was 'most--asleep," she said drowsily, and shut her eyes again.

The pa.s.sers-by glanced curiously at the two on the bench. Soon there were few to look, then none at all.

David leaned his head against the slatted back. It was not an easy pillow, but it gave the needed relief, and he slept.

"David Collins, I b'lieve you're fast asleep!"