Polly's return was hailed with delight, and it seemed as if every child in the neighborhood turned its steps to ward Sherwood Hall to greet her, and to hear all about her visit.
Lena Lindsey, with her brother Rob, Leslie Grafton, and Harry, Vivian Osborne, and, indeed, all of her little friends and playmates hastened to see her, to hear from Rose, and to tell all of the small neighborhood happenings that had occurred while she had been away.
"I've three white rabbits," said Rob, "and I want to show them to you,Polly."
"And mama has bought the dearest angora kitten for me. I wish you'd come down soon and see it," urged Leslie; "it's just a baby cat and you can't help loving her, she's so cunning."
"I haven't anything new to show you," said Vivian, laughing merrily. "I mean I've nothing of my own, but there's SOMETHING I'll show you, and I guess it's different from anything you ever saw!"
"Why, Vivian Osborne! What ARE you going to show Polly?" Harry Grafton asked.
Vivian's eyes were dancing as she whispered something in Harry's ear.
"Oh, THAT'S it, is it? Well, I guess Polly WILL look when you show it to her!"
"You just tell me this minute!" said Polly. "I'm wild to know what IT is!"
"IT," said Vivian, "is a girl, a very pretty little girl!"
"Then why is she a sight to see, and why DO you laugh?" Polly asked, completely puzzled.
"She LOOKS well enough," Vivian replied, "but she ACTS like—"
"The old SCRATCH!" said Rob.
"Oh, Rob!" cried Lena, "Mama told you not to say that!"
"I know it," Rob admitted, "but I couldn't think of any other name that would give Princess Polly an idea what she was like."
"But who is she? Where is she?" questioned Polly.
"Oh, she lives in the next house to us," said Vivian. "Her papa has bought that fine large house that has the big lawn, and the lovely garden at the back. She's very, VERY pretty, and if she didn't ACT so—"
"HOW does she act?" said Polly. "I tell you all truly, I'm wild to see her!"
"Rob told you how she acted," said Harry, with a laugh, "and old Scratch isn't half bad 'nough. Say! She wanted to have a wedding for her best doll the other day, and she cut a lace curtain off a yard from the floor to make a wedding veil for it!"
"'Twas a parlor curtain and I guess her mama didn't think that was cunning," said Lena.
"She tells lies—"
"Oh, Harry!" interrupted Leslie, "you mustn't."
"Well, she DOES, and they're too big to be called fibs," Harry said, stoutly.
"And the queerest thing is that Inez Varney plays with her all the time, and she doesn't ever play with any of us now. She hasn't been to my house since that new little girl came here to live," said Leslie.
"And Leslie don't care," declared Harry, "because Inez was getting queerer and queerer, and she wasn't the pleasantest playmate, but now she's so gay you'd hardly think she was Inez Varney."
Polly was greatly interested.
"What's the new little girl's name?" she asked.
"Gwen Harcourt, and mama says that Mrs. Harcourt is lovely, and I must be kind to Gwen," said Lena, "and it would be hard, only I don't often see her. She's always with Inez."
Polly had been away but two weeks. She had gone to visit Rose Atherton, intending to remain but a single week. Then when she was at "The Cliffs" she had written for permission to stay "just a little longer," and Mrs. Sherwood had extended the time an extra week.
During that time the house next to the Osborne's had been purchased, the family had moved in and the little daughter of the family had become very intimate with Inez, her near neighbor.
A short time surely for so much to have been accomplished.
Perhaps the "new little girl," as the other children called her, found it easier to capture Inez, and hold her for her BEST friend, because Inez was very eager for a little "chum."
She had hoped to be chosen by Princess Polly, to take the place of Rose. Disappointed, and angry because Polly Sherwood did not prefer her, she would not try to choose a mate from her other playmates. Instead, she gave all of her time to the "new little girl," and never were two small girls more intimate.
A few days after Polly's return she was sitting on the stone wall near the entrance to the driveway.
A bright hued Japanese parasol kept the sun from her head and shoulders, and she sang a cheery melody, hitting her little heels against the wall to mark the time.
"Sunshine and showers,Bees in the flowers,Blue sky and floating clouds,Soft Summer air;Bright yellow butterfly,His gauzy wings to try,Floats like the thistledown,Without a care.
"Now, to the velvet rose,Off and away he goes,Far from all other bloomsRoving so free;Flighty, and light of heart,Having of care no part,Gay yellow butterfly,Happy is he."
Inez Varney, with her new playmate, ran along the avenue. Inez was the only one of Polly's friends who had not been up to see her since her visit to Rose.
Now, in great haste, she clasped the hand of her little friend and ran to where Polly was sitting.
"This is Gwen Harcourt," said Inez, "and Gwen, this is Polly Sherwood, that all the children call 'Princess Polly.'"
"Iwon't!" said little Miss Harcourt, stoutly.
"You NEEDN'T," said Polly, coolly.
The new little girl was surprised. She had believed that Polly would be very angry. Indeed, she was quite disappointed that Polly seemed not in the least to care.
"Is that your house up there between the trees?" she asked.
"Yes," said Polly, but she did not say: "'Will you come in?'"
That did not trouble Gwen, however. She needed no invitation. She could invite herself, and she did.
"I'm coming over to see you some day," she said.
Inez giggled. She thought her new friend's pertness very smart.
"You don't say you'll be glad to see me, but I'm coming just the same," said Gwen; "and p'raps I'll come to-morrow, and p'raps it'll be next week, but I'm truly coming."
Polly felt that she had never seen a prettier child, nor could she think of another as rude as Gwen Harcourt.
She was always kind and polite, but what could she say to this rude little girl that would be courteous and at the same time truthful?
"I can't tell her I'll be glad to have her come, for I just KNOW I don't want her. She's very pretty, but, someway, I'm sure I'd be happier without her," thought Polly.
Gwen Harcourt, vexed that Polly Sherwood had not been at all excited atthe thought of receiving a call from her little self, turned towardInez. "Come," she said, "let's go out in the sunshine and have a run.It's awful dull here!"
"I guess we'll be going," said Inez. "Gwen is so very gay that most places seem dull to her. Come!"
She held out her hand, Gwen grasped it, and together they ran down the avenue.
They did not even say "Good-bye," but raced off as if every moment spent with Polly were too dull to be endured.
"I said I shouldn't call her 'Princess Polly' and I shan't," said Gwen, to which Inez replied:
"Well, you don't HAVE to, and I guess she didn't care much."
Polly, looking after them, spoke softly to herself.
"What pretty eyes she had, and her hair was fine, too." Then, after a moment's hesitation, she spoke again.
"She was lovely to look at, but she wasn't very polite.
"She said she was coming over here some day, but I do hope that she won't hurry about it. I'm sure I don't need her as much as Inez does. I don't mind how long it is before I see Gwen Harcourt!"
Gwen Harcourt had a most unlovely disposition and no one could guess what she at any time might do. If Princess Polly had urged her to come very soon to Sherwood Hall she would have waited a week at least before appearing there.
As she had received no urging, she decided to go on the following day.
Very early the next morning Polly sat in a big chair in the library, reading her favorite fairy book. A slight sound caused her to look up from the page.
"Why, there she is!" she whispered.
There, indeed, was Gwen Harcourt, perched upon the fence that enclosed the piazza. She was looking straight in at the window, her bold little eyes noting every object in the room.
"Come out! Come out!" she cried, beckoning so frantically that she nearly lost her balance.
Polly was annoyed. She was in the midst of an enchanting tale, and she so wished to finish reading it. Truly, she was not glad to see Gwen Harcourt.
She never treated anyone rudely, however, so she closed her book and went out to greet her early visitor.
"I guess you'd think I wanted to come up here if you knew HOW I came," said Gwen.
"How did you come?" Polly asked, not because she cared but in order to say SOMETHING. She could not say that she was glad to see her.
"Through the window and over our hedge," said Gwen. "Mama said that as I'd been horrid at the breakfast table I must stay in all the forenoon. I didn't think that was fair, because I wasn't VERY horrid. I put my foot on the table so I could tie my shoe ribbons. Papa said, 'Gwendolen!' and I took it down quick. Then I took some peanut shells from my pocket and sailed them in my cup of chocolate. They looked like little boats. My piece of melon had the stem on it and I said it was a music box. I wound the stem round and round, and sung 'Yankee Doodle.' Mama made the waitress take me away from the table and I just howled all the way! I don't think I need have stayed in for such little things as that! I DIDN'T stay in. I jumped out of the window, it's near the ground, and then, because it was the shortest way, I scrambled right over the hedge. Horrid old thing! It had thorns on it, and it scratched my knee."
Polly thought her a handsome little savage.
Gwen thought that she had made an impression upon Polly.
"There was just one reason why I acted so. Mama had guests, and she had just been telling them what a good child I was, and I thought it would be a joke to do some queer things at the table.
"I thought because she had company she wouldn't send me away, but she did," she concluded.
Her next remark was even more surprising than those that she had already made.
"Let's catch bugs!" she said.
"Oh, horrid!" cried Polly, "I couldn't do that!"
"I do," said Gwen, "and it's fun. I caught two big old beetles and tied threads on them for harnesses. Then I hitched them to a wee little paper box about an inch long and they made a good span. They dragged it all right 'til I dumped an old fuzzy caterpillar into the box, and then they tumbled over on their backs and squirmed and kicked like everything! If I could find one now I could show you how they kick."
"Oh, please don't," said Polly quickly, "I wouldn't like to see them wiggle."
"Then let's slide down your front steps," said Gwen. "Come on! Slide the way I do. I sit down on the top step and commence to slip. When I've slid over three steps I turn over and slide three that way. I get excited wondering whether I'll tear my frock, or only bump my knees. Sometimes it's both, and sometimes it's neither!"
Polly could not imagine why such antics could be amusing, and she knew that her mama would not like any such rough play.
"You don't seem to want to," said Gwen; "are you afraid of your clothes, or don't you dare to risk the bumps?"
"I don't think mama would like it," Polly said, gently, "but I'll play'Hide-and-Seek' with you, or any game you like."
"Oh, I don't care for those old games," said Gwen, "so I'll tell you what we'll do. Come over to the stable and you get your coachman to let us have the horse and the cow. You ride the horse barebacked and I'll ride the cow. Come on! Don't be a fraidie cat!"
"Oh, dear," said Polly, "I know you won't like it, but I don't want to do that."
She saw Gwen's eyes snap, and knew that she was angry.
"I'll get my boat, and I'll let you sail it if you'd like to, in the brook," she said.
She did not enjoy her little guest, but she wished to be kind.
"I WOULDN'T like to," Gwen said, rudely, "sailing boats isn't lively. I guess as long as you don't want to play any jolly things I'll go home. I meant to shingle the cat's fur this morning, and I'll do that. I'm going to wet it sopping wet, part it in the middle from his head to his tail, and then shingle it all but his tail!"
Of course, Gwen told Inez that she had been up to Sherwood Hall and that she thought it very dull.
"I wouldn't care to have such a big, BIG house," she said, "'n I wouldn't want such a big garden."
It was a silly speech to make, because it was not true, and no one could believe it.
Her own house was fine, but no dwelling in the town could compare with grand, stately Sherwood Hall, and Gwen Harcourt knew that.
"Polly wouldn't play anything, so I came home," she said.
"Why, that's odd," said Inez, "she's always willing to play games."
"Oh, well, she wanted to play 'Hide-and-Seek' and that's too stupid. Let's play 'Tag' and see how hard we can run. You can make ever so much noise if you stamp your feet when you run on the asphalt. Le' me count!"
Inez did not dare to object.
"Eena, mena, mina, moot,Le'me catch you by the foot;Fill your eyes and mouth with soot,Pull a tree up by the root.
"Hit you with a speckled trout,Pull your hair to make it sprout;Though you grumble, also pout,One, two, three, and you are out."
"There!" said Gwen, "now you're it, so we'll begin to play."
"Why, how can I be 'it' when you said I was 'out?'" questioned Inez.
"'Cause I SAY so, that's all," said Gwen, coolly, and Inez dared not say a word. She knew if she did that Gwen would be provoked and would probably go home.
She was a little tyrant and anyone who wish to play with her must do as she said if she cared for peace.
"Run, now!" she cried. "Run! But you can't catch me!"
Truly, she was fleet footed.
Up the long driveway, around the house, past old Towser's kennel, pausing just long enough to kick it in order that he might growl, up the front steps and along the piazza, over its railing, across a bed of choice flowering plants, breaking some, and crushing many, around the summer house and through the grape arbor, shouting like a little wild Indian, she ran, and Inez could not get near enough to touch her.
"You're slow!" cried Gwen, "slower than an old cow! You can't run like anything, so we might as well sit down!"
In truth, she was tired but she would not say so. It pleased her far better to find fault with Inez.
"When YOU get rested," she said, "we might climb up onto your barn and crawl into the cupola."
"Ye'll not be doin' that, young lady," said the gardener, who, as he was passing, had heard what she had said. "It's not safe, an' I know Mr. Varney'd not allow it."
"Horrid old thing!" said Gwen. "Who do you mean?" Inez asked, sharply.
"The gardener, of course," snapped Gwen.
"I guess I'll go home," she said, a moment later, and although Inez coaxed her, she would not remain nor would she say why she had decided to go.
Whenever she wearied of a place she left it, refusing to remain or explain why she would not stay. Inez looked after the little flying figure.
"I hate to have her go, but I couldn't run every minute," she said.
One sunny afternoon, Lena and Rob, Leslie and Harry were sitting on the lawn, listening to Polly's story of floating in a little boat out to the open sea. Of how she and Rose did not dream how naughty the boy, Donald, had been until they were so far out that they could hardly see the beach.
The boys thought it very exciting, and this was not the first time that they had heard it. Indeed, they had often asked her to tell it, and each time they had found it as interesting as when they first had listened to it.
"Now tell us about the first moment that you saw the Dolphin," said Rob.
Gwen Harcourt, seeing the group on the lawn, wondered what they were talking about.
There was but one way to find out, and she chose to take it. She ran up the path that led to where the little group was sitting and dropped on the grass beside Harry Grafton.
She listened to the story, but she did not think it at all amusing.
Anyone who knew Gwen would know that it could not interest her. She cared for no story of which she was not the heroine.
When the tale was finished and the playmates were telling Polly how fine a story it was, Gwen, speaking very loudly, made herself heard; she usually did.
"Everybody listen while I tell a story that'll scare you 'till you most can't breathe. It's a true story, too!"
"Go ahead, Gwen," said Rob.
"Yes, tell it!" said Harry. "I don't mind being scared if you can do it!"
She needed no urging.
"One time when I was little—-" she commenced, but Harry interrupted.
"When was that?" he asked.
"Stop, Harry!" whispered Leslie.
"One time, when I was LITTLER than I am now, I went into our parlor all alone when it was almost dark, and looked at the pictures. Mama has ever so many, and some of them are landscapes and some of them are portraits.
"The one I liked to look at scared me every time I saw it. It was a big, tall lady dressed in yellow and she had a feather fan.
"When I saw her in the bright daylight I thought she moved SOME, but whenever I looked at her when it was almost dark she seemed to move MORE!"
Gwen paused to see if the other children were impressed, and looked up just in time to see Rob Lindsey "nudge" his sister. Her eyes flashed.
"Well, p'raps you don't believe it, Rob Lindsey, but I SAW it, and I guess I know!" she said.
"Go on, Gwen," said Rob, who was a great tease, "I only touched Lena's arm to let her know the 'scare' part of the yarn was coming."
Thus reassured, Gwen continued her story.
"Well, this time I'm telling 'bout, the lady in the yellow gown looked at me, and—WAVED her fan!"
"Hot day?" questioned Rob, but Gwen chose not to notice what he said.
"She waved her big feather fan slower and slower, and then—she walkedRIGHT OUT OF THE PICTURE and came down on the floor!"
"Oh—o!" said Princess Polly, and "Oh—oo—oo!" said Lena, but Rob asked a question.
"Did your fine lady come down on the floor in a heap?"
"Did she BUST her feather fan?" questioned Harry Grafton.
"You're not nice to laugh when I'm telling a story," said Gwen, "and I guess you wouldn't have laughed if you'd BEEN there!"
"Why, what happened?" Lena asked, partly because she was curious and partly to be kind.
"I'll never know just what did truly happen, because just as she came toward me, I was so scared I fainted, and when I came to, the lady had vanished, but the big hole in the canvas showed JUST WHERE SHE'D STOOD!"
"Why Gwen Harcourt! You know that story's a fib story all the way through!" said Harry.
"'Tis NOT!" said Gwen, "and I guess I know!"
She sprang from the grass, and ran down the driveway.
"I guess when you see the big frame, and the picture with a big hole in it just the shape of the lady, that showed where she WAS, I guess you'll HAVE to b'lieve it," she said, and having said this to the boys that had teased her, she hurried down the avenue.
"Oh, what an awful story!" said Polly, "it made me feel like shivering, and I was glad the boys were with us."
"If Gwen Harcourt likes to tell such stories, she can," said Leslie, "but she needn't say they're true."
"Oh, but perhaps SOME of it—-" Polly stopped. She had meant to speak kindly, but what part of so silly a story could be true?
"You've been in her parlor, Leslie," said Harry, "did YOU see the picture with the big hole in it, just where the fine lady stepped out from the frame? Leslie, HAVE you?"
"Yes," admitted Leslie, "I've been there."
"WAS the big picture with the big hole in it hanging there?" he asked.
"N—NO!" said Leslie, "and I'll tell you all something. A lady that mama knows heard some of Gwen's stories, and she told Mrs. Harcourt what perfectly awful things Gwen was telling, and Mrs. Harcourt said that she was very glad, and thankful that Gwen had such great imagination, and said she wouldn't, for the world do anything to check it, because it's a SURE sign she'll be something fine some day.
"Mrs. Harcourt said it was just wonderful what a strong imagination Gwen had, and she said she thought she would be either an author, or a play writer, or something great."
"And papa, when he heard that, said he'd want to be careful lest she grow up to be an awful liar!" said Harry.
"Oh, hush!" said Leslie, "papa said falsifier or some name like that."
"Well, that's the same thing," said Harry.
The little friends talked of Gwen, and the stories that she told.
The boys thought them ridiculous, and laughed at the idea that she expected her playmates to believe them, but neither Polly, Lena, nor Leslie could see it that way.
"I wouldn't mind the stories," Polly said, "because anyone can make up stories just for fun, but I do hate to have her say they're TRUE."
"And she sticks to it," said Harry.
"That's it," said Lena, "she says they're true, and she dared us to come down to her house, and see the picture!"
Gwen was safe in daring them, for not one of the little friends liked her well enough to go to her home, none save Inez, and Inez had not heard the story about the picture.
One sunny morning Polly ran along the avenue to overtake Lena Lindsey.
"Lena! Lena!" she cried, "wait for me! I've a letter from Rose," she said, as she walked along with Lena.
"Which way are you going?" Lena asked, "I want to hear what she says."
"I wasn't going anywhere 'til I saw you," said Polly.
"Then come along the path through the grove," said Lena, "and we'll stop on the bridge, and enjoy the letter there."
They ran along the path together, the sunbeams making Jack-o-lanterns at their feet. Light branches swayed in the wind, and through the dancing leaves the sunlight sifted, making Lena's hair a brighter brown, and Polly's flaxen ringlets like pale gold.
They reached the little bridge, and paused to watch the clear, rippling brook, as it ran beneath it, and out through the tiny grove.
Humming a melody all its own, it made its zigzag way between birches, and alders, maples, and elderblow, carrying on its shining surface stray leaves, and water spiders that struggled to see which first should reach the sunlit meadow land beyond.
"Now, read the letter," said Lena, "and does she say when she's coming here?"
"Oh, you hark, while I read," said Polly, taking from its envelope, the letter that she had, already, read three times.
Lena listened with delight. It would be an event to have little Rose Atherton come to Avondale! She told of Uncle John's frequent visits, and of long drives enjoyed with him.
"And here's something that made me laugh," said Polly.
"I told you about Evangeline Longfellow Jenks," she continued, "and she's written some more verses, and Rose copied this one. Just listen while I read it."
Polly took a slip of paper from the envelope, and read this absurd verse that was written upon it:
[Illustration with caption: "Lena listened with delight."]
"I'm to be a poet when I get big,And I'll write a book that's bigger'n me.My poems I make now are to practice on,But when I'm big they'll be fine to see."
"Does she think THAT'S poetry?" said Lena, laughing because the verse was so absurd that she could not help it.
"If you think that one is funny, just listen to this," said Polly, turning the slip over, and reading from the other side.
"The sea is wet, and so is the brook;The earth swings round and round.The cat's asleep, and so are my feet,So I'll write no more till anon."
"Why, what DOES she mean?" said Lena, when she could stop laughing long enough to ask.
"I don't know," said Polly, laughing as heartily as Lena did, "and the funny thing is that Evangeline says anyone could write poetry that folks understand. She says it's just TWICE as bright to make verses that NOBODY could understand!
"I wouldn't want to have to play with her, and Rose says she runs away whenever she sees Evangeline coming," said Polly.
"I should think she would run," said Lena, "I would."
After the sweet little letter had been read, and Lena had asked for a second reading, Polly put it back into its envelope, and they talked of what Rose had written.
"Only think," said Polly, "her Aunt Rose doesn't wish her to be away from the house to go to school, so she's to have a private tutor at home, a music teacher, and a dancing teacher, and they're all to come to her house. She won't be in school with other little girls at all."
"I wouldn't like that," said Lena, "we have fine times together when school commences, and I don't believe I'd like teachers that came to my house. Well, I don't mean I wouldn't like the teachers, but I think it's more fun to go to school."
"I don't see how she's ever to get acquainted with other little girls," said Polly, "I think it sounds very lonesome!"
"So do I," said Lena, "but perhaps she doesn't. We'll know when she comes to your house, because I'm most sure she'll tell us."
"And we'll go to school the third week of next month," said Polly, "and Rose isn't to begin her lessons until two weeks later than that. She's coming to stay with me and spend the two weeks. Oh, won't we have fun?"
"Fun?" said Lena, "we'll do every fine thing we can think of. I'll tell Rob, and he'll help us make it jolly. He always does, and he likes Rose as well as we do."
"And who's Lester Jenks?" Lena asked, "is he the poetry girl's brother?"
"Oh, no, he's her cousin, and he's full of fun, and fine to play with," said Polly, "and he thinks Evangeline is pokey, and he laughs at her poetry. I didn't laugh at it, and I don't think he was nice to. I told him so, and he only laughed harder."
"He told Rose to tell me that he's going to send me a Valentine this year, and he says he's found a new place to get ice cream just a little way from where Rose lives. He says when I'm at her house the next time, he'll buy ice cream almost every day."
"Isn't he generous? And he says: 'Tell Princess Polly to hurry up and come,' and Rose says she can hardly wait 'til she sees me."
"Oh, Polly!" cried Lena, as a happy thought occurred to her, "if she's to be here when school has commenced, you can bring her to school. Teacher'll let us have guests.
"I'm glad you read the letter to me, because it makes it seem as if Rose was right here."
"And almost before you know it, she WILL be!" cried Polly, with a gay little laugh.
"I'll have to run along now," said Lena, "because Rob gave me this note to take to Harry Grafton, and I said I'd rush over there to give it to him. I forgot all about it when I stopped to hear Rose's letter. I guess I'd have stopped just the same, if I'd remembered Rob's note!" she said, and her brown eyes twinkled, as she looked over her shoulder on her way down the path.
Polly stood on the little bridge and watched Lena until, at the opening between the trees, she turned and waved her hand, and then ran out upon the road.
"I'll find Sir Mortimer, and tell him Rose is coming to see us soon," she said.
She ran along the path, out onto the avenue, then up the broad driveway of Sherwood Hall.
As she passed the holly-hocks, she saw the big cat lying in front of them, basking in the sun.
"Oh, Mortimer darling, you'll tan in that hot sun," she said, "but she sat down beside him, as if the sun would have no effect upon her.
"See this letter?" she said, as she showed him the little envelope. Of course, Sir Mortimer promptly smelt of it.
"Oh, you don't need to see it so CLOSE, dear," said Polly, "you can surely look at it without putting your nose on it."
He stretched out his soft paw, and caught at the envelope, as if to play with it.
"Now, Mortimer, 't isn't any use for you to take the letter, because you know, dear, you couldn't read it, but I'll tell you the best thing in it, if you'll listen."
The big cat stared at her and blinked.
"Rose is coming to see us, and Mortimer, when I say US, that means you and me. Of course she wants to see her Aunt Judith, and everyone in this town, but MOST she really wants to see us, that TRULY is you and me. Aren't you glad?"
He arched his neck, and rubbed against her, purring as if to show his delight with the news she had told him.
Polly took him in her arms, and carrying him to the hammock, seated herself, and began to swing very gently.
At another time, Sir Mortimer might have objected, but just now he was rather drowsy, and instead of jumping from the hammock, he curled up in Polly's lap, and seemed to be preparing for a nap.
"I love little pussy," sang Princess Polly, gently patting his handsome head.
"Look at her, now," said the cook, peeping from the kitchen window, and pointing at Polly, "ain't she the dearest child in the world?"
"Ye've no need ter ask," said the big butler, "fer ye know my answer.Our little Miss Princess Polly is the finest child I ever saw."
"And did ye mind that wild little heathen that came up here the other day, a prancin' all over the place, here one minute, an' there another? Sure, I expected ter see her shin up the side of the stable, an' then jump from the ridge-pole. She'd make nothin' of that!" said the maid.
"I think it must be that little Harcourt monkey," said the butler, "and I'm told her ma likes her wild pranks. What is it she calls 'em? Oh, yes, I remember. She says as how her darling is very VERVASHUS! What that means I do'no, but one thing I'm SURE of. If her youngster is THAT, our Miss Polly just AIN'T!"
And while Polly petted big Sir Mortimer, she thought of the dear letter, and softly whispered to her pet:
"Lena is just as glad that Rose is coming as you, and I are, and she said Rob would be glad, too."
There were other little people beside Polly and Lena who were thinking of the first days of school, and of them all, not one was more interested than wee Dollie Burton.
Indeed, she was both interested, and grieved. Interested to hear all that her sister, Blanche, and the other children had to say, and grieved because she could not understand why she could not at once begin to be a little school girl.
In vain was she told that she was far too small to think of going to school. She insisted that she was not so VERY little, and that she so wished to go.
"Blanche did not go to school until she was much larger than you, dear," her mother had said, "and I think it would be far better for you to stay at home this Winter. You can play school at home, and you can be the teacher, and your two little kittens, and your dolls can be your pupils."
"But I could play it nicer if I had been to school just a little while," said Dollie, "'cause then I'd know just how."
The rustic bridge upon which Polly and Lena had stood spanned the brook that ran through the grove.
The grove was a wee bit of woodland so near to dwellings that it was quite safe for children to play there.
Dollie Burton was so very small, however, that she had always played in the lovely grounds that surrounded her home.
Whenever she had ventured farther, she had been with Blanche, but to-day she had left the garden, and for the first time in her little life she had run away!
It was something that Harry Grafton had said that had caused her to do it.
"Why, Dollie, you'd feel lost if you went to school," he had said, "'cause you've always played in your yard."
He had not meant it unkindly, but he had offended little Dollie.
"I WOULDN'T feel lost outside of our garden any more than you would,Harry Grafton, so now!" she had cried.
"Don't you mind, Dollie," the boy had answered, but Dollie DID mind very much.
She had no thought as to where she was going when she ran from the garden, and it was only chance that led her to the grove.
She ran to the bridge and stood watching the rippling brook, as it rushed beneath it.
Softly she crooned a little tune, for wee Dollie was never long unhappy. She had almost forgotten how vexed she had been, and she laughed as she saw small bubbles sailing, sailing away to the meadow. Softly she hummed, and then little words, describing what she saw, fitted quaintly into the droll melody—
"See the pretty bubbles, bubbles,Riding on the little brook;See the spiders try to catch them,And old Mr. Toady Frog sings'Po-dunk!' and jumps down deep.Oh, green old Mr. Toady Frog—
There's Blanche's teacher! I'll ask her, and p'raps she'll say 'yes.'"
A slender young woman with a gentle, smiling face, came along the path, and stepped upon the bridge.
She wondered who the tiny girl might be, until Dollie turned, and gave her a sunny smile.
"Oh, I wanted to see you this very minute!" cried Dollie; "I want you to tell mama I'm big 'nough to go to school. Will you, please, Miss Sterling. I'll LOVE you, if you will!"
The young girl was tempted to laugh, until she saw the red lips quiver. Then she knew how much her answer meant to the little girl, and kneeling beside Dollie, she put her arm around her, drawing her close.
"Dear, can't you love me, whatever I say?" she asked.
"Yes," said Dollie, "because you're so handsome."
"Oh, you are truly an artful baby," the young teacher said, with a laugh.
"But WILL you?" urged Dollie, "I do know SOMETHING. I can spell 'c-a-t, cat,' and I know that isn't kitten, and I can spell 'b-e, be,' and that isn't the bumble kind, so can I come to school?"
"Dollie, dear, you couldn't be in my class if you started this year, soI cannot give you permission. You would begin your schooldays in MissPrimson's room," was the reply.
"Why, she's the cross-looking teacher, with black eyes that look like this!"
Dollie touched the fore-finger of each hand with its thumb, thus making rings through which she peeped, in imitation of spectacles, and frowned as darkly as her baby face would permit.
Miss Sterling knew that she should not laugh at the grimace, but it was so very funny that she could not help it.
"Miss Primson is to teach in another town next season, so if you wait 'til next year you will have a new teacher to commence with, and you can work very hard, so as to get into my room as soon as possible," she said.
The child's face lighted with a happy smile.
"Oh, then, I don't want to go THIS year!" she cried, "I'll stay at home, as mama said, and keep school with my dolls and the kittens, but will you come sometimes, and see if I teach them right?"
"I certainly will," Miss Sterling said, kindly, "and I do hope your little class will behave nicely."
"The dolls will," said Dollie, hopefully, "but the kittens' manners are—awful!"
"Then that shows how much they need a teacher," Miss Sterling said, and Dollie felt sure that it must be right for her to remain at home, that those kittens might not be neglected.
"They run away 'thout asking to be s'cused, and they walk right into the saucer of milk. I don't s'pect them to use spoons, but they needn't sit down in it. How'd I look, if I sat down in MY plate when I was eating?"
There was no one near to answer her question, and the little girl hurried home, convinced that there must be no delay in educating the kittens.
There was one small person in the town who feared the opening of school, and that was Gyp.
During vacation days he was care free, but as it neared the time when all the children of Avondale would be, for the greater part of the day, in school, he began to watch any person who passed the shanty that he called "home," and to view with terror the blue coat of a policeman.
"They shan't ketch me!" he muttered, "I WON'T go to school!"
His mother, as ignorant as himself, enjoyed using him as a wood gatherer, and thus insisted that he was not old enough to go to school, when questioned by a member of the school committee.
"Not OLD enough!" cried the man in disgust, "why, woman, any child five years old can go to school."
"Gyp ain't five yet!" the woman had answered, stolidly.
"It's no use talking that way," was the quick reply, "he's NINE if he's a day. I think it's more likely that he's ten. Ye can't keep a child out of school unless he's less'n five, or over fourteen."
"Then he's OVER fourteen!" cried the woman.
"Less'n five one minute, and over fourteen the next!" said the man in disgust. "Grows kinder fast, don't he?"
"Well, he AIN'T goin' ter school!" the woman insisted, and the officer went his way.
Gyp, however, did not believe that he would long remain away from the shanty.
He determined to take no chances, and it seemed to him that the safest thing for him to do, was to keep well away from home.
At twilight he surprised his family by appearing with a huge bundle of fagots that he had gathered in the woods. He gave them yet another surprise by packing the wood upon the old wood pile behind the house, and running off again for more.
He returned with a larger bundle than the first.
"Kind 'o busy, ain't yer?" questioned his mother, but Gyp made no reply.She watched him, as he hastily piled the wood.
It certainly was unusual to see the boy work like that!
When asked to do a task, it was Gyp's habit to do it as slowly as possible, and to do as little as he dared.
Now, without waiting to be asked, he was working as if he had not a moment to spare!
Yet more amazing, on the next day, before any of his family was stirring, he was again at work, and soon a huge heap of fagots rose in the little back yard.
"What AILS ye, Gyp?" his mother asked, "Be ye sick?"
Gyp never answered unless he chose, and this was surely one of the times when he did not choose.
"Ornary critter!" said the woman, as she picked up her broom, and went in, closing the door behind her.
"NOW, I'll go!" said Gyp, and he ran off across the fields.
He could take care of himself, and he always managed, when away from home, to steal enough so that he was well fed. He knew that, if wood were needed, his mother would hunt for him, but with the big pile of firewood behind the shanty, she would not search for him. She would be glad that for a time she need not feed him!
Gyp had been shrewd when he had made that woodpile!
He found, when he had crossed the fields, that he was on a country road, and near a large farmhouse, whose big barn-door stood invitingly open.
In front of the house stood a baker's cart, and Gyp looked about to see if the driver were in sight.
"He's in that house!" whispered Gyp, in great excitement.
In haste, lest the man return, and catch him, he pulled out a draw, snatched some buns, and a pie, and darted with them into the barn, and up on the hay in the loft, where he hugely enjoyed his treat.
He heard the man run out to the cart, push the draw to, and then drive off.
"I've had a fine treat, an' he ain't missed what I took, so that's all right," he said, with a laugh, "an' I guess I'll see who's got some fruit in his garden. That's what I want now!"
He went down the ladder like a monkey, ran from the barn, and a little farther up the road, found a fine blackberry patch, just over the wall.
Of these he ate until he cared for no more, and then, like a full-fledged tramp, strode down the dusty road.
"I ain't goin' ter be ketched 'fore their old school begins, fer if I AM ketched, they'll make me begin with the others, an' I ain't a goin' ter, but after its goin' on two weeks, then I'll be safe. They won't bother me then, an' I'll hang around the schoolhouse an' make things lively!"
He smiled as he muttered this threat, and his black eyes twinkled. Oh, yes, he would be delighted to play any outrageous trick that might startle both teacher and pupils.
He did not know that during all the season, those who intended that every child in town should be educated, strove with the same vigilance as at the beginning of the year.
"Gyp's run away!"
"Why, Harry Grafton, he's always running away from somewhere, or from someone," said Leslie.
"Oh, that's when he's been stealing things," said Harry, "but this time it's different. He ran away from the shanty, and I know, because I heard his mother asking a policeman to find him, and she said he'd been gone a week!"
"Wherever he is, he won't stay long," said Leslie, "he'll come running home."
"Why will he?" questioned Harry. "If he's run away, it's because he's tired of that old shanty, and I should think he would be!"
"WE'D be tired of it," said Leslie, "but he's used to it, and he'll come back, just because it's his home."
"P'raps he will," agreed Harry, "but I wouldn't think that place would seem like home even to Gyp!"
"I'm going up to play with Princess Polly," said Leslie, "and I'll tell her about Gyp. She's afraid of him, and I know she wouldn't want him to run away, but she may feel safer because he has."
"He wouldn't dare harm her," said Harry, with flashing eyes, "for he knows we boys wouldn't stand that. We'd fight for Princess Polly!"
"And she's the only thing I'd want to see you fight for. Mama says thatboys who quarrel are vulgar, but it would be right to do ANYTHING forPrincess Polly. She's the dearest girl in the world," said Leslie, "andRose Atherton is next!"
"Yes," said Harry, "Rose is next."
Quite unaware that any of her playmates were near, Polly ran out into the sunshine, and taking a long bit of trailing vine for a skipping rope, tripped along the driveway.
"Oh, you're not a very nice rope," she said, "but you're a pretty make-believe rope. Here, Mortimer! You can have this for a string."
She ran along, dragging the vine, and Sir Mortimer, glad of a playmate, raced after it, as much excited as if he had been a kitten.
"We'll dance and playThe livelong day;Ah, happy friends are we.With summer flowersAnd shady bowersAnd young hearts light and free,"
sang Polly, and Leslie and Harry from their seat on the top of the stone wall, near the gate-way, echoed the last line;
"And young hearts light and free."
"Oh, I was singing to Sir Mortimer, and I didn't know anyone was near to hear me," said Polly, laughing gaily, as the two who had been her little audience sprang from the wall, and ran up the driveway to the garden.
Polly tossed the vine upon the grass, where Sir Mortimer promptly snatched it, and rolling over, became entangled in it.
"You'll want to take him to school with you," said Leslie, with a laugh, "but Mortimer will have to stay at home."
"They won't let even Princess Polly bring a cat to school," said Harry, "tho' I would ifIwas the teacher."
"Then I wish you were the teacher, Harry," said Polly, "but I know I shall like school here at Avondale, and I shall have fine times, even if Sir Mortimer has to stay at home."
"Gwen Harcourt will be funny in whatever class they place her," said Harry, "because she says she doesn't want to go to school, and she means to act so that the teacher'll be GLAD to send her home!"
"And Rob Lindsey says there's ever so many new pupils coming this year, so the classes will be full, and there'll be just CROWDS of children to play with," declared Leslie.
Oh, there were merry days in store for the little playmates, and those who have learned to love Princess Polly, and would like to meet her again, to know what happened to Rose, and of the gay times at school, and at Sherwood Hall, may read of all this in
End of Project Gutenberg's Princess Polly's Playmates, by Amy Brooks