Princess Polly At Play Part 12

At the end of the school year in June, he had stood at the head of his cla.s.s, and now, employed by Captain Atherton, he knew that he was respected, and that he had honestly earned that respect.

"I'm to be the hired 'man' on his place," he said, "so I'll be earning something, while I study evenings, for I mean to get somewhere worth while. I don't mind if anyone in Avondale who likes me, calls me "Gyp." It sounds friendly, but I'll not always be known as Gyp, the gypsy boy. When I get out in the world I'll be John Gifford, and I mean business. I don't know yet just what I'll do, but Captain Atherton will advise me, and with his help, I'll be able to decide."

Of course there were a few who continued to shake their heads, and say that "A gypsy is always a gypsy, and what can you expect of a boy brought up, or rather permitted to grow up, as Gyp has been?"

The larger number of the people of Avondale seemed determined to take a more cheerful view of it, and to believe in the boy, even as he now seemed to believe in himself.

Gyp proved that he needed no watching, for he commenced work early each day, and never stopped until night.

The lawn was carefully clipped, the flowers and lawn were given an abundance of water, vines were trained, and shrubs were trimmed, until after a month of Gyp's care, the place looked finer than ever before.

Captain Atherton left Cliffmore one day to visit Avondale, and get some papers that he remembered having left in his safe.

As he walked up the path he noticed what fine care the place had received during his absence. The lawn had never looked so green, the plants and shrubs had never blossomed so freely.

As he stood looking about him the click of the lawn mower caused him to turn just as Gyp came around the corner of the house.

"You've worked wonders here, Gyp," the Captain said. "I always had a fairly good lawn, and much could be said of the vines and the flowers, but everything looks far better than it ever did before.

Where did you get the knowledge to do the work so well, and so successfully?"

"I asked the gardener down in the Center, the one who takes care of the parks, to tell me how to do my best for you, and then--I did it,"

Gyp said, simply.

"Work like that at whatever you undertake, and you'll be pretty sure to achieve success," said Captain Atherton.

"I mean to," Gyp replied, firmly, and as he looked after the fine figure ascending the steps to the porch he murmured:

"I'll do my very best for him," while Captain John Atherton said, as he opened the door of his safe to take out the papers that he needed: "That boy is worth helping, and I'll help him."

With the genial Captain away, the housekeeper felt free to enjoy a bit of gossip, and seeing the cook in the garden of the next house, she slipped out of the rear door, and across the lawn, where, that her coming might look like a mere happening, she took a bit of paper from her pocket, and commenced scribbling upon it.

She wished the cook in the next garden to think that she was jotting down a few things that she wished to remember.

Curiosity was at once aroused, and the cook moved toward the hedge.

"E'hem!" she coughed softly.

The housekeeper turned coolly.

"Oh, good morning," she said. "I just come out here for a bit of a rest, there's so much going on just now, that I'm nearly wild with the planning."

"Do tell!" cried the cook. "I've heard there was to be great doings of some sort over at 'The Cliffs,' but I haven't yet heard what it is.

What's it all about? I'm wild to know."

Mrs. Wilton sighed, as if she were already very weary.

"We're not more than half ready for the great event," she said, "but Captain Atherton does not wish me to tell anyone the least thing about it."

"Mercy sakes! Why I came out purpose to hear!" said the cook, her round face very red, and her little eyes snapping.

"Well, you'll hear later," Mrs. Wilton said, and turning, she walked across the lawn and entered the house.

Inside the door she whispered:

"There! I guess that paid her for being so private that she wouldn't tell me a thing about the company that left their house in such a hurry one day last week, and hustled off before daylight at that!"

The cook, still standing with her fat arms akimbo, stared wrathfully at the closed door where the housekeeper had vanished.

"Well, of all the mean things not even telling a decent woman like myself one bit of what's going on there! I'll find out, though, some way. To-morrow is my afternoon off, and I'll go from one end of this town to the other to see what I can hear."

Even little Rose Atherton was pledged to keep the secret.

"We're to have a lovely time at our house," she said to Polly and Sprite, one morning. "We're to have a perfectly lovely time, and you'll be there to enjoy it, but that is all I can tell. Uncle John said I could say that if I wished to but that I musn't tell any more just now."

"Well, we won't mind waiting to hear just what it is," Polly said, "because we know it will be nice, whatever sort of party it is. We always have a nice time at your house."

"And we'll like it all the better because there's to be a surprise of some sort," said Sprite.

"We can wonder and wonder, and then when the day comes we'll have the fun of not guessing what it is, but just knowing what it is and enjoying it."

Rose looked very wise.

"It's to be lovely, I told you that, and there's one thing more I can tell, and that is that it will be different from any party we ever went to, or any party any of us ever had."

"Won't we be glad when we haven't to wait any longer to know just what kind of a party it is?" said Sprite.

"Oh, yes," agreed Princess Polly, "and so will ever so many other people, for I've heard people talking about it, and saying that they were tired of guessing, and that they wished they knew now, instead of having to wait still longer to know."

"It won't be very long now before they know," Rose said, laughing gaily.

The secret was out, because the invitations were out.

Captain John Atherton, the genial master of the beautiful home at Cliffmore, known as "The Cliffs," and of an equally beautiful estate at Avondale, was to marry the girl whom he had always faithfully loved.

The misunderstanding that had parted them had come about because of the loss of a miniature of the girl, Iris Vandmere.

Its loss had grieved John Atherton.

He could not imagine how it could have so completely vanished. In truth, it had been stolen, but Iris thought that her lover must have valued it lightly, believing if he had properly guarded it, it could not have been taken from him. One word had led to another, and she had sent him away, grieving and wretched.

Her own heart was not less sad, but she had endeavored to hide that.

Then, on that lucky day of the Summer before, Princess Polly had found the exquisite miniature lying in the middle of the sandy road.

How it came to be there, no one could say. Evidently someone, perhaps, the one who had stolen it, had dropped it, and travelled on, unaware that the famous miniature lay waiting a claimant, on the main road of Cliffmore.

The Summer colony was excited, but of all those who were invited to be present, none were more lovingly interested than the children.