Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 4

"Perhaps you missed a word in spelling?"

She shook her head, with a sober "No."

"Geography, then?"

"Yes, I made a mistake," she admitted.

"I wouldn't worry over that."

"No, oh, no!"

"Then that isn't it? How long are you going to keep me guessing?"

She hid her face against his coat. "Don't ask me, please!" she begged.

"Is it as bad as that?" His tone would usually have sent her off in an amused chuckle; now she was miserably silent, pressing closer into the friendly folds.

"If it is an all-afternoon affair, we may as well sit down," and, wheeling about, he took the chair she had just left, drawing her to his knee.

"Now let's look at this together, Thistledown. Two heads ought to be wiser than one, you know. Just give me a chance to show my skill at helping."

"I--can't! It would make you feel bad--awfully bad!"

"Something you did at school? I promise my forgiveness."

"Oh, no! I haven't done anything--only told Ilga Barron what I thought of her. And I'm glad I did!"

"That the pudgy girl we met the other day?--the one that didn't have cloth enough for a decent dress?"

In spite of herself, Polly let go a giggle with her a.s.sent. "Why, father," she remonstrated, "she could have her skirts longer if she wanted to! She's Senator Barron's daughter!"

A quiver of laughter stirred the Doctor's face.

"All right, we'll let the Senator's daughter wear her frocks as short as she pleases. But what else has she been doing?"

"She said," began Polly, "that you--oh, I can't!" She caught her breath in a sob.

"About me, was it? I see! You've been carrying a burden intended for me on your small shoulders, when mine are broad enough to bear a whole pack of abuse! Drop the load at once, Thistledown!"

Despite his tender humor, Polly detected in his voice a note of command, and she strove to obey.

"She said--that you--that you--were a n.o.body!"

"Is that all?" he laughed. "Well, so I am, measured by her standard, for I am neither a man of wealth nor an influential politician. But, Thistledown, don't you think you are a bit foolish to let that trouble you?"

"There's something else," she replied plaintively.

"I am ready."

"She told some girls--she meant I should hear--that--that your sister is--an idiot!" The sentence ended in a wail.

Dr. Dudley's arms tightened around the slender little figure, and for a moment he did not speak.

When words came they were in a soft, sad voice.

"I have no sister on earth. She went to Heaven two years ago. I will tell you about it. Until Ruth was six years old she was a bright, beautiful little girl, beloved by everybody. She was eight years younger than I, and my especial pet. Then came the terrible fever, and for days we thought she could not live. Finally she rallied, only for us to discover that we had lost her--her brain was a wreck. The semblance of Ruth stayed with us twelve years longer, until she was eighteen years old; then she went Home. That is undoubtedly the foundation for Ilga's malicious little story; but, you see, Thistledown, there is no present cause for sorrow, only thankfulness that Ruth's journey is safely ended. We can remember her now for the dear child she was."

Polly was crying softly on her father's shoulder. Presently she asked:--

"May I tell Ilga?"

"I wouldn't bring up the subject. If it should ever be referred to again, you might let her know the truth, as simply as possible; but sometimes things are better left unexplained."

Polly was silent, and Dr. Dudley went on.

"I think it will be well for you to keep out of the way of Miss Barron as much as you can. Should there be an opportunity for any little kindness, do it un.o.btrusively and sweetly, as I know you would; otherwise give her a wide berth--she needs it."

"I'll try to," Polly agreed. "But, father, don't you really care 'cause she called you that?"

"A n.o.body?" he smiled. "I should be one if I allowed it to annoy me.

My little girl, I wish I could make you see how trivial, how inconsequent such things are. No human being is a 'n.o.body' who is faithful to the best that is in him. It doesn't make much real difference what people say of us, as long as we keep an honest heart and serve G.o.d and our fellow travelers according to our highest knowledge. Life is too brief to spend much thought on taunts or slander. We have too much else to do. I suppose it is scarcely possible for a person that does anything worth doing to get through life without sometimes being talked about unpleasantly and misrepresented. Do you know what Shakespeare says about that? 'Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.'

"But there comes mother! Run, get your hat and coat, and we'll have our ride."

CHAPTER IV

COUSINS

Contrary to the physicians' fears, Erastus Bean's condition improved day by day. Polly went often to see him, delighting the little man with her small attentions and her ready sympathy. It was on a Monday morning that he found out the letter had been missing from the rosewood box, and he was at once perturbed over the loss.

"Jane must 'a' put it some'er's else, some'er's else," he complained, over and over, although Polly begged him not to worry.

"It doesn't matter so very much if I don't know who those relations are," she a.s.sured him, "and anyway we may find the letter sometime."

"Yer don't s'pose the Doctor said anything to Jane about it?" he queried suddenly, his eyes sharp with anxiety.

"Oh, no! I guess not," Polly replied easily.

"Wal, yer won't let him, will yer?" he pleaded. "Cause I'll sure find it soon's I git home, an' Jane, she's kind o' cranky, yer know! But she's got her good streaks, Jane has! She brought me a bowl o' custard th' other day--that was proper nice o' Jane!" His wrinkled face lighted at remembrance of the unexpected kindness.

Polly smiled in response, while she wondered vaguely if Aunt Jane really loved the little man whom she ordered about with the authority of a mother.

"It's too bad 'bout that letter," Mr. Bean rambled on. "Yer'd ought to find out who them relations be--an' 'fore they have time to die. Folks go off so quick now'days, an' mebbe, if they only knew yer, they'd leave you some o' their prope'ty so's you could live like a queen--ther' ain't no tellin'."

"I don't b'lieve I'd like to live like a queen," laughed Polly. "But,"