Christmas
STILL unreconciled, Anthony and Betty went together to spend their Christmas with Mrs. Ashton in Woodford in the old Ashton homestead. They took with them both Bettina and Tony and the nurse and Faith Barton. However, Faith was of course to stay with her foster parents, Doctor and Mrs. Barton.
Only Angel refused to accompany the little party. She claimed not to be feeling well, to have some business that she must attend to, and indeed made so many excuses that Betty, seeing that she really did wish to be left behind, gave up arguing the matter with her. Moreover, Meg promised to look after Angel and see that she had her Christmas dinner with them, so that she would not be particularly lonely.
It was in Angel's mind that perhaps during the family's absence something might occur which would relieve her from all suspicionin the Governor's sight. Yet if she thought that this would come about through Kenneth Helm she was mistaken, for Kenneth departed for Woodford on Christmas eve to spend the following day with Faith and her parents.
Besides seeing her mother and giving her children the pleasure of a country Christmas Betty was chiefly looking forward to being with Polly. Somehow she felt that Polly would be sure to cheer her up and make her feel young again. They could take long walks through the woods and discover whether little Sunrise Cabin was still habitable. Billy and Mollie had always looked after it, carefully attending to whatever repairs were necessary, so doubtless it was as good as new.
Nevertheless it was extremely difficult after her arrival for Betty and Polly to find time for the intimate hours that they both longed to have together, for there were so many other people about—old friends and relatives.
Nan Graham came from Syracuse, where she had charge of the department of domestic science in the High School, in order to bewith her brother Anthony, whom she had not seen since his election.
Edith Norton with her husband and four children still lived in Woodford and claimed the intimacy of their Camp Fire days. Then, of course, there was Herr Krippen and Mrs. Krippen and Betty's small stepbrother to be considered, besides Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, Eleanor and Frank.
But perhaps the most important and unexpected member of the Christmas gathering was the distinguished and eccentric Doctor Sylvia Wharton. Certainly it was Sylvia who kept Betty and Polly from being alone with each other during her own brief visit.
The morning of the day before Christmas Mollie got a letter from Sylvia, who had charge of a hospital in Philadelphia, saying that much as she regretted it she would be unable to spend Christmas with them.
During the late afternoon Polly, who had escaped from the noise and confusion going on inside Mollie's big house, was taking a walk up and down the bare wind-swept orchard to the left of the house. The groundwas covered with hard white snow and the air stung with a kind of delicious cold freshness.
It was a part of Polly's regular duty to stay out of doors for a certain number of hours each day, so she now stopped her walk for a moment and glanced ahead at some almost blue-black pine trees silhouetted against the twilight sky.
Suddenly she became conscious of what sounded like a masculine step behind her, and before she could turn around felt her two arms firmly grasped by a pair of capable hands and herself swung slowly about.
She faced a figure not so tall as her own, but broader, stronger and far more sturdy. The blue eyes looked at her through a pair of spectacles, the flaxen hair was parted in the middle and without the least sign of a crinkle drawn straight back on either side. The mouth was firm, but curiously kind. And just now it actually showed signs of trembling.
"Why, Sylvia Wharton!" Polly said and straightway hid her face in the fur of her stepsister's long coat. Immediately she had a feeling of dependence on Sylvia'sjudgment and affection just as she had for so long a time, although she was several years the older.
"Don't try to hide your face from me, Polly O'Neill. I want to see how you are looking before you get back into the house and do your best to deceive me. I can feel already that you are thin as a rail," Dr. Sylvia murmured severely. "You see if I don't straighten you out before you go back to that wretched work again!"
"It was good of you to come, Sylvia; I was so disappointed over your letter this morning. Only I am not your patient, dear; I am quite all right. It is 'Bobbin,' my poor little girl, I want you to look after and find somebody to help," Polly returned with unaccustomed meekness. "Really she is interesting and unusual. Both Mollie and Billy Webster think so; it isn't only my foolishness. I suppose you thought my bringing her east with me was rather mad, didn't you, Sylvia?"
Sylvia smiled the slow smile that had always beautified her plain face. "No, not mad, only Polly!" she answered dryly. "But of course I'll look the little girl overfor you, and then I'll find the best person to see her and you can send her to me in Philadelphia. Only don't think you are going to escape by that method yourself."
On Christmas Eve all the grown-up members of the Christmas party dined with Mrs. Ashton and Betty in the town of Woodford, since Mollie was to have the tree and Christmas dinner for them and the children on the farm the next day.
It was an amusing change from the past to find that Anthony Graham and Sylvia Wharton were really the lions of the evening. How different it had been in the old days when Anthony was only an awkward, shabby, obscure boy and Sylvia the plainest and most unprepossessing of the Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls!
Polly and Betty too, in spite of her wounded feelings, were both immensely pleased and amused by it.
Of course Sylvia would rather have died than have mentioned the fact, but quite by accident Anthony had read the previous day of Sylvia's election as President of the American Medical Society, the highest honor that had ever been paid a woman inthe medical profession in the United States.
Hearing the story at the dinner table, Sylvia was of course confused by the admiration and applause it excited, for she was still as shy and reserved about her own accomplishments as she had ever been as a young girl.
Moreover, it was Polly who recalled having once predicted that Sylvia Wharton would become the most distinguished of the Camp Fire girls and who made a little speech in her honor, much to the confusion and disgust of Sylvia.
Then Billy Webster offered their congratulations to Anthony, who was almost equally modest about his own attainments and insisted that his election as Governor was due to a happy accident and not to any possible ability of his own.
The Christmas day following was even more crowded with people and excitement. Actually Mollie and Billy were to have thirty guests to dine at the farm at two o'clock and the Christmas tree for the children was to be given immediately after.
Notwithstanding, Sylvia arranged to spend an hour alone with Polly and Bobbinin a room at the top of the house where there could be no interruption.
She appeared to be deeply interested in Bobbin. She made Polly talk and then saw how easily Bobbin seemed to be able to understand. Then she asked questions herself which now and then the little girl was able to comprehend.
Polly explained that perchance Bobbin understood her better than other people, because of her training as an actress, which of course required her to enunciate more distinctly. However, Dr. Wharton made no reply and after a time Bobbin was sent away to watch the children at play.
Then Polly sat quietly in a big armchair, while Sylvia strode up and down the room with her hands clasped behind her. They were both silent for quite five minutes.
Afterwards Sylvia spoke first.
"I am by no means sure your little girl is entirely deaf, Polly," she remarked abruptly. "But I am not an expert in the matter and I don't want to trust my own judgment. I believe she hears indistinctly perhaps and so has never learned to talk. Yet it would not surprise me if a suddenshock of some kind might make her hear, and after that she would learn to talk easily enough. But I'll discuss her case and we can see about it later. Now you are to let me look you over."
Of course Polly shrugged her shoulders and objected, insisting that she was entirely well and that it was absurd to waste Sylvia's time.
Nevertheless, as usual, Dr. Wharton had her way and at the end of a half hour's examination Polly appeared pale and exhausted, while Sylvia looked more satisfied.
"You are not to go back on the stage again this winter, Miss O'Neill," she announced decisively. "But you really are in better health than I expected to find you. If you only would behave with a little more sense!"
Polly sighed, waving her accuser away.
"Do go and let me rest now, please," she commanded. "You know I have promised to recite for the children for an hour or so after dinner. And I do wish my friends and family would stop asking me to behave with better sense. How can I if I haven't got it? Everybody ought to be sorry for me."
Smiling, Sylvia departed. It was like old times to hear Polly talking in her old aggrieved fashion when she knew herself to be really in the wrong. But then Sylvia decided that she would probably always love Polly more than any one else in the world, even if they saw each other so seldom. For she never expected to marry herself and doubted now whether Polly ever would. There had been a scare years before about a Richard Hunt, but as Polly never mentioned his name now she must by this time have forgotten him.
The Christmas dinner and tree were a great success. After Polly had made the children shriek with pleasure by playing a dozen characters from Mother Goose, and the older people cry by reciting several exquisite Christmas poems by Whitcomb Riley and Eugene Field, the guests then sang Camp Fire songs until darkness descended.
It was a pity, however, that Esther and Dick and their children were in Boston and unable to come home for the holidays, for Esther's beautiful voice was sadly needed in the music.
But at six o'clock Sylvia was forced to leave for Philadelphia, and so the other guests decided that it was time that the weary children should be taken home.
However, for one minute Polly and Betty did manage to slip over into a corner and in that moment made an engagement to spend the whole of the next afternoon together. Moreover, in order to get away from every one else they planned to take a long walk to Sunrise Cabin.
Nevertheless that same night each of the two friends lay awake for several hours, firmly resolving not to tell the other the trouble that lay nearest their hearts. For they both decided that they should have gotten beyond their old girlhood confidences and that there were certain things women should keep to themselves.
The Stupidity of Men
"BUT, my dear, there isn't the least use of your denying it. The fact that you are unhappy is as plain as the nose on your face. Of course if you don't want to tell me the reason you need not, but don't expect me to be so stupid as not to see it," Polly concluded solemnly.
Actually the two friends were in the time-honored old living room in Sunrise Cabin. With their own hands they had brought in twigs and logs from outdoors and lighted an enormous fire in the big fireplace. Then Polly had produced three candles from her handbag and had stuck them into the tarnished brass candlesticks that were still ornamenting the mantel, where they were now burning fitfully.
With their coats off both of the old Camp Fire girls sat on rickety chairs before the fire, their chins resting in their hands and gazing none too happily into the flames.
"But I tell you, you are mistaken, Polly. There is nothing the matter with me. Of course one can't expect to be happy when one grows older, as in our old irresponsible Camp Fire days. Maybe it is old age that is troubling me, for I am a most uninterestingly healthy person."
In replying Betty tried to make her tones as light as possible; nevertheless her companion only frowned the more unbelievingly.
"Our Camp Fire days were never irresponsible ones for me, Betty child," Polly responded, gazing thoughtfully around the dear, dismantled room. "Often I feel I never learned so much at any other time in my life as I did then. But the fact remains that you are not happy as I want you to be, and I wish with all my heart that you loved me enough to tell me the reason why. You see, Betty, I am rather a lonely, good-for-nothing old maid and I can't expect much for myself. But you have absolutely everything in the world any woman could wish. And I think it is positively wicked of you not to be the same gay, sweet Betty."
At this Polly got out a small handkerchiefand began dabbing her Irish blue eyes, that were shedding tears partly from the smoke of the fire and partly from a general sense of discouragement.
In return Betty stared back at her with equal severity. "What a perfectly absurd fashion for you to talk, Polly O'Neill!" she replied. "You know perfectly well that if you had chosen to marry you might have had what I have. Only you didn't want to marry; you wanted a career and to be famous and to make money instead. Well, haven't you succeeded? Is that what you are crying about?"
Polly nodded. "I expect there isn't any law about wanting everything, is there, Betty Ashton Graham? So long as women are women, no matter what they may try to do or be, there will be times when they cry for nice husbands and babies. But I wasn't crying about me, it was about you," she continued ungrammatically and with her usual logic. "Here you are growing more beautiful every day you live. Everybody loves you; you have hundreds of friends, the two most fascinating children in the world, except Mollie's, and a husbandwho is about the best and cleverest man in the state, and who simply adores you, and yet you are wretched and cross and unlike yourself. I watched you yesterday, Betty, and you never smiled a single time when you thought no one was looking and you never once spoke to Anthony. The poor fellow appeared dreadfully troubled too. Whatever is the matter, I am much sorrier for him than I am for you," Polly concluded somewhat vindictively.
"Oh!" Betty faltered and then was so silent that Polly humped her stool nearer until her shoulder touched that of her friend.
"That last remark wasn't true, of course, Betty," Polly apologized. "For if Anthony is really a snake in the grass and treats you badly when he looks so noble and kind, why, I shall simply come to Concord and tell him what I think of him right in the Governor's mansion. I don't care whether he puts me into the state prison or not."
Then, although she had been tremblingly near tears herself the moment before, Betty was compelled to laugh. Whoever could do anything else in Polly O'Neill's society? The thought of Anthony's thrustinga very noisy and protesting Polly into prison was a picture to dispel almost any degree of gloom.
Betty slipped her arm across her friend's shoulder. "No, dear, you must not think Anthony is unkind to me; it isn't that," she responded slowly. "Only I don't believe he exactly 'adores' me as much as he used to. Sometimes men get tired of their wives."
"Nonsense, goose! What put that notion in your head?" Polly returned lightly, although she was a little frightened by her friend's reply.
Really she had not believed that anything could have come between Anthony and Betty. Her suggestion had only been made in order to induce Betty to deny it. The next moment she leaned over and put several fresh logs on the fire.
"Nothing and no one in this world could ever persuade me, Betty dearest, that Anthony does not adore you," Polly then continued with convincing earnestness. "You see, he began when you were sixteen years old and he never knew that any other girl lived in the world. He does not knowit now, for he never even glanced at a single one of us yesterday, if he could help it. But you see Princess, dear, you are a good deal spoiled. You always have been ever since you were a baby, by your family and all your friends. Even the Camp Fire Club used to look up to you and be more devoted to you than any one else. Esther has always been your slave and now your little French girl seems to feel about you just as Esther used to do. Really, Betty, I expect you need discipline."
Yet even as she spoke Betty's auburn hair glistened with such exquisite colors in the firelight that Polly stroked it softly with her slender fingers.
The Governor's wife was thinking too deeply to notice her.
"I wonder if things are my fault, Polly. I almost hope they are," she answered wistfully. "You see, it has seemed to me lately that Anthony has been dreadfully unreasonable. He won't do the things I ask him to and though he is too busy to be with me himself, he isn't willing for me to spend much time even with my oldest friends."
"Oh, ho!" whistled Polly softly. "What friends, for instance, Princess?"
"Oh, Meg Emmet and—John Everett. Isn't it absurd? But Anthony has always felt a prejudice against John ever since we were boys and girls together here in Woodford," Betty explained. "I don't care particularly for John now myself. He has grown kind of stupid and thinks too much about what he eats, but it would look utterly ridiculous of me to cut him for no reason except that Anthony is absurd."
Polly dug her chin deeper into the palm of her hand as she so often did in moments of abstraction.
"Seems like a little enough thing to do if Anthony wishes it and you could do it very gracefully you know, Princess dear," Polly replied. "Besides, I am not so sure Anthony has no reason for his prejudice. I never liked John Everett a cent myself when we were all young. He was always trying to lord it over the rest of us and pretend to be very rich and grand and superior. Besides, Betty Graham, I don't believe I should care to have a husband who would do every solitary thing I asked him to do.Somehow, I think I would like him to have a little judgment of his own now and then. So you really wish Anthony to do exactly as he is told. I wonder if your children are as obedient? But come along, dear, it is getting so late Mollie will be having fits about us. Fortunately you are a more sensible woman than I am. A perfectly obedient husband is about the last thing in this world I require. To what dreadful end would I bring him!"
But Betty did not stir from her stool even when her companion had crossed over the room and now stood holding out her long fur coat, waiting for her to put her arms inside it.
"Dear, if there is one thing I am more sure of at this moment than of anything else, it is that I am notsosensible a woman as Polly O'Neill. Though goodness knows I never could have believed it!" Betty whispered, laughing and yet profoundly in earnest. "It was a most excellent sermon and I mean to do my best to profit by it. Truly I have been behaving like a spoiled child for weeks. I know Anthony has a great many thingsthat trouble him and I ought to have been more considerate. Somehow I expect this marriage is really more the girl's business than the man's. He has to make the living for the family in most cases and the Camp Fire taught us that home making was a girl's highest privilege."
Then Betty got up and slipped on her beautiful long coat and the two friends started back toward Mollie's big farm together.
In all their girlhood they had never felt more intimate or more devoted. Yet neither one of them talked much during the long walk, just an occasional question now and then.
The sun was going down, but there was an after-glow in the sky and because of the whiteness of the snow there was still sufficient light. At least Polly and Betty could see each other's faces with perfect distinctness.
They had nearly reached the farm-house when Betty suddenly stopped and put both hands on Polly's shoulders.
"Look me directly in the eyes, Polly," she commanded.
And Polly attempted doing as she was bid, but her lashes drooped until they touched her cheeks.
"Have you fallen in love with some one recently, Polly? Is that why you talked about yourself in such a discouraged fashion just now and lectured me so severely?" Betty inquired.
Polly shook her head. "I don't know whether you would call it falling in love recently, Betty, or whether I have been in love for the last ten years. But I saw Richard Hunt again when I was in Colorado and he was even nicer than he used to be. He don't care a single thing about me any more, Betty. He hasn't even sent me a Christmas card! The letter I had from him a few days ago was all about Bobbin. He wasn't even interested enough to inquire if I was well."
A Cry in the Night
BECAUSE she was tired from her long walk and her conversation and from other reasons Polly went up-stairs to bed sooner than her sister and brother-in-law.
As a special privilege the children had begged that Bobbin should be allowed to sleep in the nursery with them, and rather against her will Polly had consented. The little girl had previously occupied a small room connected with her own.
However, she was too weary for argument, and besides Mollie's babies were cross and unreasonable. They had been playing all afternoon with the Christmas tree which stood in the big back parlor just under Polly's room. Anything to get them safely stowed in bed and the house quiet!
For Polly had expected to lie awake for a number of hours, reflecting on manythings, when in point of fact immediately after retiring she sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Moreover, about ten o'clock Mollie and Billy also decided to follow their sister's example. And it was Billy himself who closed up the windows and made the house ready for the night. Only he failed to go into the back parlor where the Christmas tree stood and where the floor was now littered with discarded toys and games and the walls hung with dried-out evergreens.
He was under the impression that the windows in this room had been closed and locked when the children departed to bed. Moreover, locking up at the farm-house was more of a custom than a necessity. No one had any real fear of burglars or tramps. Besides, the windows in the back parlor were locked and no danger was to come from the outside.
But it must have been only about three hours later when Mollie suddenly awoke with a scream and start. A hand had passed lightly over her face.
The next instant and Billy jumped up and seized hold of the intruder.
Yet his hands clasped only a slight, childish form in a white gown. It was too dark in the room to see who it could be until Mollie lit the candle which stood always by their bedside.
Then they both discovered Bobbin, not walking in her sleep as they supposed, but with her face very white and making queer little movements with her hands and lips.
"The child is frightened; something must have to disturbed her," Billy suggested, still only half awake himself.
But Mollie had jumped out of bed and was already on her way to the nursery. Naturally she presumed that something had happened to one of the children and that Bobbin had come to call her. Poor little girl, she had no other way of calling than to touch with her hands!
However, half way down the hall Mollie turned and ran back into her own bedroom.
"Get up please, Billy, in a hurry, won't you? I do believe I smell smoke somewhere in the house. Something must be on fire. Of course Bobbin could detect it before the rest of us; she is sure to have a keener sense of smell."
A moment later and Billy had jumped almost all the way down the long flight of old-fashioned country stairs.
"Don't be frightened, dear, but get the children up and put clothes on them," he shouted back. "It is too cold for you to go out in the snow undressed and we are miles from a neighbor. I will call the men and we will fight the fire. Don't forget to waken Polly!"
With this last injunction in her mind Mollie stopped to hammer on her sister's door before she ran on to the nursery.
She was certain that she heard Polly answer her. Besides, by this time the house was filled with an excited tumult, Mollie's little boys were dancing about in the hall, half pleased and half frightened with the excitement, their nurse was scolding and crying and vainly endeavoring to dress the small Polly.
So it was plain enough that for the next few minutes Mollie had difficulty enough in keeping her wits about her and in quieting her family, especially as every now and then she could hear her husband's voice from below calling on her to hurry as quickly as possible.
Only Bobbin at once slipped into a heavy, long coat and shoes and rushed back to Polly's room. The door was locked, but she pounded patiently and automatically on the outside, unable, of course, to hear the answering voice from within.
Then there came a sudden hoarse shout from below stairs and in that instant Mr. Webster, dashing up a flight of steps almost at one bound, returned with the baby in his arms, while Mollie led one of the small boys and the nurse the other.
"Come on, you and Polly, at once!" Mollie cried, waving her hands and pointing toward the great hall to show that there was no time for further delay.
But this was evident enough to Bobbin without being told, for the smoke was pouring out of the parlor into the hall and coming up the stairs like a great advancing army.
However, Bobbin would not leave her post. There was not the faintest thought in her brain of ever stirring from without that locked door until the one person whom she loved in the world should come forthfrom it. And she was not conscious of feeling particularly afraid, only she could not understand why Miss O'Neill would not hurry.
A moment later, however, and Bobbin found herself outside standing alone in the snow.
There had been no possible outcry on her part, no explanation and no argument, of course. Only when one of the farm laborers rushing up-stairs had seen the little girl loitering in the hall, without saying by your leave, he had seized her in his arms and borne her struggling through the now stifling smoke.
Outside in the yard Bobbin for a moment felt weak and confused. For all at once the place seemed to be swarming with excited people.
There were a dozen men and their families living on the big farm with houses of their own. And now the ringing of a great bell had brought them all out with their wives and children as well.
The women were swarming about Mollie with their children, crying, gesticulating, talking. It was a clear, white night andBobbin could see them easily. The men were engaged in rushing back and forth with pails of water, fearing that the water might freeze on the way.
But there was nowhere any sign of Polly!
Bobbin did not try to attract attention. In the instant it did not even occur to her that she might not have been able to make any one understand. Simply and without being seen she slipped into one of the big front windows, opened by the men as a passage-way, and started fighting her way again up the black, smoke-laden steps.
There seemed to be no more air, it was all a thick, foggy substance that got into your throat and made you unable to breathe and into your eyes so that you could not see. But Bobbin went resolutely on.
She clung to the banisters and dragged herself upward, either too stupid or too intent on her errand to suffer fear. Nevertheless, through the smoke she could see that long tongues of flame were bursting out of the doors of the back parlor into the hall beneath her.
Only, once more at Polly's bedroom door Bobbin lost heart and the only real terror she ever remembered enduring seized hold on her. For Polly's door was still locked and she had no means of making her hear.
All that she could accomplish by hammering and kicking she had done before. Of course, she tried this again, yet the door did not open and so far as Bobbin could know there was no movement from the inside.
Yet next Miss O'Neill's room there was her own room and the door of this was unfastened. With a kind of half-blind impulse Bobbin staggered into it. She had no clear or definite idea of what she intended doing, yet fortunately this room was only partially filled with smoke so that she could in a measure see her way about.
There in the corner stood an old-fashioned, heavy wooden chair. Almost instinctively Bobbin seized hold on it. She was curiously strong, doubly so to any other girl of her age, since she had lived outdoors always like a little barbarian. Besides, there was nothing elsethat could be done. She must break down Miss O'Neill's door.
With all her force the girl hurled the heavy chair against the oak door. There were a few marks on its surface, yet the door remained absolutely firm, for the Webster house had been built in the days when wood had been plentiful in the New Hampshire hills and homes had been expected to endure.
Nevertheless Bobbin pounded again and again, almost automatically her thin arms seemed to work, and yet all her effort was without avail.
During these moments no one can guess exactly what emotions tore at the girl's heart. If only she could have cried out her alarm and her desire, surely she would have been answered!
Bobbin's face worked strangely, there was a kind of throbbing in her ears and her lips moved. "Polly!" she called in a hoarse little whisper, and this was the first word she had ever spoken in her life.
Inside in her smoke-filled room Polly O'Neill could not possibly have heard her. For the past fifteen minutes, during allthe excitement due to the fire, she had been lying upon her bed in a stifled condition. For no one had realized that as Polly's room was immediately above the back parlor, where the fire had been smouldering ever since the children had gone up-stairs to bed, her room had been first to be filled with smoke. Yet the smoke had come so slowly, so gradually as she lay in a kind of exhausted sleep, that she had been stupefied rather than awakened by it.
Now was it the miracle rather than the sound of Bobbin's speaking her name that penetrated slowly to Polly's consciousness, or was it the noise of the repeated pounding of the heavy chair against her door? Whatever the cause, she came back to the world, choking, blinded, fighting with her hands to keep off the black substance that was crowding into her lungs.
Then somehow she managed to crawl across her room, remembering that the smoke would be denser higher up in the atmosphere. Unlocking the door, she turned the handle and Bobbin caught her as she half fell into the hall.
With a quick movement the girl put her arm about the older woman's waist and started for the stairway, for the hall was dense with smoke and now and then a tongue of flame leaped up from below and seemed to dance for a moment in the air about them.
It was overpowering, unendurable. Polly was already dazed and exhausted and her lungs were always delicate. At the top of the stairs she became a dead weight on her companion's arms. Besides, by this time Bobbin too was very weary.
The Discovery
A FEW moments after Bobbin's disappearance inside the house Mollie O'Neill had suddenly torn herself away from the people closed about her in their effort to hide from her eyes the possible destruction of her home.
She looked searchingly around her.
"Polly!" she called, "Polly!" For the first moment since the fire started, she seemed to be losing her self-control. For all at once it had come to her in a terrifying flash that she had not caught a glimpse of her sister since the moment when she had gone up-stairs at eight o'clock to retire to bed.
Nevertheless Polly must be somewhere near by. She must have heard her calling and she had had plenty of time to escape, more than any one else, as she had no one else to look after save herself. Yet it was not like Polly not to have come at once to her aid with the children!
Mollie ran here and there about the yard, still crying out her sister's name, horror and conviction growing upon her at every step.
At last she caught sight of her husband directing half a dozen men and caught hold of his arm.
"Billy, Polly is still inside the house, locked in her own room. Don't ask me how I know it, I do. We have got to go in and get her." And Mollie started quickly toward the front porch, until her husband flung his arms about her.
"Wait here, Mollie," he said sternly. "You will do no good, only make things harder for me. If Polly is inside the house, as you say, I'll have her out in a jiffy."
Then he called to one of the men. "Keep Mrs. Webster here. On no account let her follow me," he commanded, and glancing about in every direction as he ran, he too made for the house.
Assuredly Mollie was right. Neither had he gotten even a passing glimpse of Polly since the alarm of fire. But was it going to be so simple a matter to rescue her as he had pretended to his wife? Forcertainly if Polly had heard nothing of the tumult and danger surrounding her she must be already hurt and unconscious.
Once inside his own hall Billy Webster squared his great shoulders. The way ahead of him now looked like a pathway of flame and yet the smoke was harder to endure than the heat. Nevertheless go through it he must, since Polly's room lay at the head of the stairs.
She must be saved. Billy had a sudden vision of Polly from her girlhood until now; her wilfulness, her charm and her great talent. How stupidly he had opposed her desire to be an actress in the days when he had supposed himself in love with Polly O'Neill instead of her twin sister! Well, now they understood each other and were friends and she should not come to grief in his house.
In his pocket there was a wet handkerchief. Indeed, all his clothes were fortunately damp from the water that had been splashed upon him in the work outdoors. Quickly the man tied the handkerchief about his mouth. Then he took a few steps forward and paused. Therewas a noise of something falling from above; possibly some of the timbers of the old house were beginning to give way. Could they be under Polly's room?
But even while he thought, Billy Webster fought his way deliberately forward until he at last reached the bottom of the stairs and then his feet struck something soft and yielding. Stooping down, he caught up two figures in his arms, not one!
For in that moment at the head of the stairs when Polly had lost consciousness Bobbin had managed to half carry, half drag her on a part of the way. Then realizing that her own strength was failing, with instinctive good sense and courage she had flung them both forward, so that they both slid inertly down to the bottom of the stairs.
Instantly and without feeling their weight the man carried the woman and girl out of doors.
Poor Bobbin, whom in these last terrible moments they had forgotten! Yet she it was who had remembered better than them all!
Nevertheless, although both Polly andBobbin were unconscious, neither of them was seriously burned. Yet Mollie was dreadfully disturbed. Polly had come to visit them on account of her health, and there was no way of foretelling what effect this night's experience might have upon her. Here she was in her night dress, outdoors in the cold, when the rest of them were warmly clothed.
However, in another moment Polly was comfortably wrapped in a long coat and carried to the nearest house of one of the farm assistants. Bobbin too was equally well looked after, and as soon as she had been in the fresh air for a few moments the girl's breath had come back to her and she was soon almost herself again.
Yet by this time all the women and children had grown tired, for there was nothing that they could do. Five minutes before, Mollie's two boys and little girl and nurse had been taken away and put to bed by one of the farmer's wives. Moreover, real assistance was arriving at last.
In the excitement some one had been intelligent enough to get to the telephone in the dining room before the fire had creptin that direction. The town of Woodford had promised to send help. Even now the volunteer fire department of the village with an engine and hose carriage was trampling over the snow-covered lawns of the old Webster homestead.
A quarter of an hour later a physician appeared and also Betty and Anthony Graham. Afterwards actually there were dozens of Mollie's and Billy's friends who drove out in their motor cars to take the family home with them, or to do whatever was possible for their relief and comfort.
By this time the fire in the old house had been vanquished and the earth was filled with the cold grayness of approaching dawn.
Mollie would see no one but Betty, who stayed on with her and the physician in the room given up to Polly. Mrs. Wharton had been persuaded not to come, and Anthony Graham had gone back to town to make things clear to her.
"It is just like Polly to be such a ridiculously long time in coming to herself," Betty explained to her frightened friend. "I don't think it means anything in theleast alarming." Yet all the time she was wishing that the physician who held Polly's thin wrist, counting her pulse, would not look so deadly serious.
However, no matter what she might fear herself, Mollie must be strengthened and comforted. Her nerves had given way under the recent strain and fright. It was almost impossible for her to keep her teeth from chattering and she was unable to stand up. Notwithstanding, nothing would persuade her to leave her sister's room.
"For if anything serious is the matter with Polly, of course if will be my fault and I shall never forgive myself," she would repeat over and over. "You see, I forgot Polly; it was only Bobbin who remembered."
Finally, however, there was a sign from the doctor by Polly's bedside which Betty managed to intercept. Without a word to Mollie she slipped across the room to find Polly's eyes wide open and staring in perplexity at her.
"What on earth has happened, Betty?" she demanded impatiently, although her voice was so faint it was difficult to hear."What are you and Mollie and I doing in a room I never saw before, with me feeling as if I had been out of the world and then gotten only half-way back into it again?"
At the sound of her sister's voice Mollie had also moved toward the bed. She was distressingly white, her soft blue eyes had dark circles around them and she seemed utterly spent and exhausted.
Quickly Polly reached out her weak hand.
"What is it, Mollie Mavourneen?" she asked nervously, using the name of their childhood.
Then before either woman replied: "Oh, I remember," she said faintly. "There was a dreadful lot of smoke in my room and I got to the door somehow. Bobbin was there and I can't recall anything else."
This time Polly's fingers clung tightly.
"Was any one injured? Was your lovely house burned down?" she inquired.
But Mollie could only shake her head, while the tears ran slowly down her soft cheeks.
However, Betty spoke reassuringly. "It is all right, Polly dear. No one is in the least hurt. We were afraid for a whileyou had been stifled by the smoke, but you are perfectly well now. And Billy says the house has been saved. Of course, it has been a good deal damaged inside, but that can soon be restored."
Polly smiled. "Then for goodness sake do put Mollie to bed! She looks like a ghost and I am terribly sleepy myself. I have been ever since eight o'clock last night and I've no doubt it is now nearly morning."
Yet, as her sister and friend were tiptoeing softly away, Polly beckoned Betty to come back to her.
"Bobbin saved my life, didn't she?" she inquired gently. "I don't think I should ever have gotten down that dreadful smoke-filled hall except for her."
Silently Betty nodded; for the moment she did not feel able to speak, because the story of Bobbin's courage and devotion had touched her very deeply.
"It is like bread cast upon the waters, isn't it?" Polly murmured faintly. "It returns to one buttered."