Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 9

"NOT FOR SALE"

"Will your father be at home this evening?" Patricia inquired of Polly, as they left school together. The tone was eager.

"Not all the time. He is due at the hospital at seven o'clock, and we never know when he'll be back. Why?"

Patricia wagged her head mysteriously. "Mamma and I were coming over.

Mamma wants to see him."

"Oh! is she sick?"

"Not a bit!" laughed Patricia. "She isn't coming for that."

"Well, sometimes he gets back by eight, if there are no new cases; if there are, he has to stay. But you can come and see mother and me, can't you? We'd love to have you!"

"I don't know. Perhaps. Only mamma wants to see your father on some very special business." Patricia giggled.

"You act as if it were funny," observed Polly.

"It will be if it comes to pa.s.s--lovely, too! Oh, don't I wish it would!"

"Is it a secret?" asked Polly, her curiosity aroused.

"Yes, a great secret! I promised mamma, fair and square, that I wouldn't tell you; but I want to awfully!"

"I guess we'd better not talk about it, then, because you might let it out."

"Oh, you darling!" cried Patricia, squeezing Polly's arm. "I do wish I could tell you right now! Aren't you aching to know?"

"Why, you make me want to," laughed Polly; "but if it is your mother's private business, of course--"

"It isn't!" broke in Patricia, a-giggle. "It's about you--oh, I mustn't!" She clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Me?" Polly's eyes grew round with wonder. "But, oh, do stop talking about it! I'm afraid you'll tell more than your mother will like.

Let's think of something else--repeat the multiplication table, or--anything!"

Patricia laughed. "I guess you wouldn't care much about the multiplication table, if you knew!"

"Don't!" begged Polly, and stopped her ears, beginning to tell of a happening in the Latin cla.s.s. By the time the little cottage was reached they were chatting gayly about school matters.

Mrs. Illingworth and Patricia spent the hour from eight to nine with Polly and her mother; but Dr. Dudley did not return from the hospital, and the mysterious "business" was not mentioned. Polly went to sleep that night wondering what it could be.

The next afternoon when she came from school she found her father and mother in the living-room. There was a note of tenseness in the atmosphere. Polly felt it vaguely as she threw off hat and coat. She went over to her mother with a caress, and Mrs. Dudley drew her down into her lap.

"I had a call from Mrs. Illingworth this afternoon," began the Doctor.

Polly was instantly eager.

"About the business?" she asked.

"Yes."

She gazed at him wistfully, her heart in her eyes.

"Your mother will tell you about it," he said, rising from his chair.

"No, no, Robert!" protested his wife. "Stay and tell her yourself!"

Polly looked from one to the other. Was it something dreadful, this mysterious "business"? They smiled, to be sure, but not at all as if they felt merry.

Dr. Dudley sat down again, and leaned forward, his arms upon his knees.

"Patricia wants you for her sister," he announced.

"That's queer!" Polly puckered her forehead. "I don't see why it isn't enough for me to be a cousin."

"But they would like you to come and live with them, and--"

"Well, I shan't!" she burst out. "The idea! They might know I wouldn't. Did you s'pose I'd want to?" she queried. "Did you, mother?"

Mrs. Dudley shook her head.

"Let me tell you what Mrs. Illingworth says," the Doctor went on. "She thinks she can give you greater advantages than I can--of education, society, and travel."

"Travel!" Polly cried scornfully; "I don't want to travel anywhere!

Why isn't Miss Townsend's school as good for me as it is for Patricia and David? And I guess society at The Trowbridge isn't any better than it is here!"

The Doctor and his wife laughed. Mrs. Dudley's arms tightened their clasp.

"You haven't heard all," the Doctor resumed. "Mrs. Illingworth offers you a thousand dollars, to use exactly as you choose, if you will come."

The indignant blood rushed to Polly's fair face.

"Do I look as if I were for sale?" she demanded. "Do I?"

Mrs. Dudley drew her down for a kiss and a "Polly, darling!"

"I haven't noticed any price tag," her father responded, twinkling.

"Well," between a sob and a chuckle, "I think I'll tie a card round my neck, and print on it, 'Not for sale.' As if money'd make up for you and mother!" She hid her face on the snug shoulder. Then she popped up.

"How would the minister like it, if you should go to him and say, 'Here, I want your wife' (I heard you tell mother, the other day, that you thought she was beautiful), 'and I'll give you a thousand dollars if you'll let me have her!' How do you think he'd like that?"

"Not a bit!" laughed the Doctor. "He might knock me down."

"He ought to!" a.s.serted Polly. "And I don't like it any better than he would. Mrs. Jocelyn didn't offer me money, but 'twas just the same. I don't want to be bought!" She turned suddenly. "You don't think I ought to go, do you, mother?"

"No, indeed!" The tone was emphatic enough to satisfy Polly. "If you went I think I should have to go, too!"