Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 29

CHAPTER XVII

AT MIDVALE SPRINGS

Polly's worry about her father's reduced salary and the unpaid coal bill did not wholly leave her mind, but returned at intervals with ever renewing force. At these times she still wondered if she ought to have gone to live with Uncle Maurice; yet the thought of it brought such terror to her heart that she would resolutely turn from the picture, arguing that the time was past for accepting his offer, and that now, whatever the consequences, she must remain in the home she had chosen. She longed intensely to earn some money to help out the situation, thinking how delightful it would be to put ten dollars into her father's hand with the astonishing announcement that it was her very own to do with as she pleased. But, realizing her helplessness in this line, she would resolve again and again to eat as little as possible, and as far as she was able to insist on wearing her old clothes, and to protest against spending even precious pennies for the pretty things she so loved to wear. But it was the eating question that troubled her more than the dress, for her healthy appet.i.te often tempted her into indulgences which she would afterwards regret.

One noon she so far forgot herself as to ask for a second helping of strawberry shortcake.

"Why," exclaimed her father playfully, "if you keep on at this rate, I shall have to charge you more for board!"

Polly looked up, dropped her fork, and covering her face with her hands broke into tears.

"Thistledown!" cried the Doctor.

"You foolish child!" laughed Mrs. Dudley. "You know father was only in fun!"

But Polly sobbed on, nor could she be induced to eat the piece of shortcake she had wanted.

Dr. Dudley and his wife were puzzled, but Polly did not make matters clearer, only refused to finish her dinner, insisting that she had had enough. Her mother coaxed, the Doctor all but commanded, yet she silently kept her trouble in her heart, and went miserably to school.

There Patricia met her with the announcement that she and her mother were going to Midvale Springs to spend the summer, having arranged to leave as soon as school should close.

"And we want you to go with us," Patricia went on with eager emphasis, pa.s.sing her arm cozily around Polly's waist. "You and I can have a room together next to mamma's and it will be too lovely! I lay awake last night thinking of it."

"But I can't--" began Polly.

"You can, too!" contradicted Patricia. "You've got to! I won't let you do anything else! Now say yes right away--there's a dear!" she coaxed, pinching Polly's mouth with a thumb and forefinger, her favorite method of wheedling.

"Cousin Harold's coming for a visit pretty soon," evaded Polly. "I don't know what he would do if I shouldn't be here when he came."

"Huh!" scorned Patricia, "guess I shouldn't stay home for a boy! He can come some other time. I'm your cousin, and I want you, and I'm going to have you! You never do anything I ask you to, and I think you might just for this once!" she pouted.

"Why, Patty, I do everything I can to please you!" protested Polly.

The "Patty" won smiles. It was Patricia's favorite nickname, and she was always pleased when Polly used it.

"You're a darling!" she cooed. "You do everything lovely! And you'll do this for me--I know you will!" she ended archly.

Yet Polly was equally certain in her inmost heart that she should never go to Midvale. To be sure, she reasoned prudently, it would save her board at home, and that was to be desired, but, on the other hand, there must needs be new clothes for a summer's stay at the fashionable Springs, which would more than offset the gain. She would give Patricia no encouragement.

Mrs. Dudley looked with favor on the invitation, although saying she should allow Polly to do as she chose. The Doctor, too, welcomed the plan as a good one, thinking it would be just the change needed for the little girl, who was growing thin and pale. Still Polly held out against them all, and felt actually homesick to hear so much talk about it. If it had been going with Mrs. Collins and David, why, she would have considered the question. She loved David's sweet, girlish little mother; but of Mrs. Illingworth she had never been fond, and she wondered that her father and mother should wish her to go.

"I'd rather stay here and live on crackers--'thout any b.u.t.ter," she said miserably to herself, and she began to curtail her meals as much as discreetness and her appet.i.te would allow.

It was only a week to the end of school, and Patricia had been urging her claims, to which Polly had paid small attention, having heard the same talk, with variations, for the last fortnight. But all at once the half-listener grew interested. What was Patricia saying?

"If you'll only go for just one month I'll give you fifty dollars!"

"Your mother wouldn't let you," argued Polly.

"She would, too!" Patricia declared. "Guess I can do what I want to with my own money! Oh, say, will you go? Will you?"

"Maybe," yielded Polly. "I don't know. I've got to think it over. I do want some money, and I was wishing I could earn some--"

"Oh, then you will! you will! you will!" cried Patricia gleefully.

"This is just your chance! Why didn't you tell me before? Oh, I'm so glad I want to stand on my head!"

"I haven't said yet that I'd go," laughed Polly; "only maybe I would."

"But you will! I know the signs!"--and Polly was grabbed in an uncomfortable hug.

Dr. Dudley and his wife were pleased at the turn affairs had taken, although they wondered at Polly's sudden change of mind. Of the offer that was the sole cause of it Polly said nothing. What a joyful surprise it would be when she should come home a month hence with sufficient money to pay the haunting coal bill! The antic.i.p.ated pleasure of that moment kept her resolution steady.

Yet at times Polly was so sober in the midst of the preparations for her going that her mother would turn to her with searching eyes, and wonder how she had lost her usual blitheness.

"You are not doing this just to please Patricia?" she asked one twilight, stopping in her task of packing Polly's small trunk to catch her in her arms and hold her solemn little face towards the window.

"Oh, no!" was the tremulous a.s.sertion; "I'm not going for Patricia's sake at all--that is, of course, I'm glad to please her; but I want to go! Only I guess"--her eyes filled--"I'm a little lovesick for you and father!"

Mrs. Dudley smiled.

"I know!" she nodded. "I've been homesick beforehand."

"Have you?" Polly brightened. "And did it go off?"

"Oh, yes, after a while!"

"Then I guess I shall get over it soon as I'm really there," she said bravely. "I wouldn't give it up for anything!"

Yet the end of the pleasant all-day's journey found Polly looking forward to her promised month with a vague uneasiness. She half wished she had confided in her mother and had let her decide. While listening to Patricia's happy chatter, she wondered whether she had done right in coming, arguing the question back and forth; still so secretly did she carry on her own line of thought that merry Patricia never guessed she was not holding Polly's entire attention.

In the morning things looked different. The charming little village of Midvale Springs, dropped so cozily among the Vermont hills, won Polly's heart at first daylight glance. If father and mother were there, too! But even with the knowledge that they were hundreds of miles away the early days of her visit were spent very happily. There was so much to see, new faces at every turn, merry playmates at all hours, straw rides and barn frolics, beautiful drives alongside tumbling brooks and through deep mountain gorges,--Polly's letters home told of these unfamiliar scenes and pleasures. Mrs. Dudley said to herself that the homesickness must have pa.s.sed with the journey.

Polly had been at the Springs but a week when she was one of a party to spend the day at Lazy Lake, twenty miles distant. On her return, in the early twilight, a small figure popped out of the dusk to give her a frantic embrace.

"Harold!" she exclaimed, recovering wits and breath together. "Where did you come from?"

"Fair Harbor," promptly answered the unabashed boy. "Couldn't find anybody home at your house, and that feller next door--what's his name?--"

"David Collins?"

"Yes, David--he said you were up here, so I came right along."

At first it was a problem to know how to dispose of the rash little lad; but by dint of certain shifts a room in the hotel was finally provided for him, and he fitted very happily into the gay life there.

The next week another surprise came to Polly, and it was even greater than the advent of Harold.