"Come inside! I want to talk with you," she told them.
"Say," she began, in lowered voice, "do you s'pose there's any chance in Miss Sniffen's taking me back?"
Astonishment was plain on the faces before her.
"Oh, I s'pose you think that's queer!" She laughed nervously. "But I just can't live here any longer! I was the biggest fool to marry that man! I thought I was going to have a good home and plenty to eat and to wear. We do have enough to eat—and good enough, but, my! he hasn't bought me anything except one gingham apron since I came, and he growled over that! He's the limit for stinginess! When I was at the Home I used to say I'd rather live in an old kitchen if 't was mine, and now I've got the old kitchen I'd exchange back again in a jiffy! Do you s'pose she'd take me!"
"Do you mean to—" hesitated Mrs. Albright.
"Yes, I mean to run away from the old man! I know you're shocked; but you haven't lived with Serono Tenney! He'll freeze me out next winter, sure as fate! I'll have to shut up the house, except the kitchen, and stay there, where I can't see even a team pass, with hardly a neighbor in sight. It drives me wild! To think I was such a fool! If he were a poor man, I could stand it; but he's got money enough."
"Why don't you make it fly, then?" broke in Miss Crilly. "Bet you
I would!"
"No, you wouldn't! He had to go with me to pick out the apron, and he fretted like sixty because I would buy one made of decent cloth! I was all in just over that!"
"We s'posed he was a nice, pleasant man—it's too bad!" Miss
Crilly was the only one who found words for reply.
"I don't have anything to read," went on the disappointed woman. "He doesn't want to know anything. He does take a daily newspaper, but that's all. There was a Bible in the house when I came, and two or three schoolbooks—pretty place to live in!"
"Get a divorce!" advised Miss Crilly.
"I could easy! He'd never fight it—hasn't got life enough. But where could I go?"
"I'm afraid you couldn't do anything with Miss Sniffen," said Mrs.
Albright sadly.
"What do you say, Polly?" smiled Mrs. Tenney. "You look as if you had your advice all ready."
"No," answered Polly sorrowfully. "Only you've promised, and it doesn't seem as if you ought to break your promise—just because you don't like it here as well as you thought you would. It isn't that I'm not sorry, Mrs. Dick—I mean, Mrs. Tenney—" Polly hurried to explain. "I'm so sorry I could cry! But it doesn't seem right—to me—perhaps it would be, perhaps I don't know." Polly lifted appealing eyes to the woman's flushed face.
"I guess you see things clearer than I do, child! We'll put it to vote. Mrs. Albright, what do you think?"
"I hardly know, and, anyway, I can't decide it for you. I suppose
I should incline to Polly's opinion."
"Miss Sterling? You hold the controlling vote, so be careful!"
Mrs. Tenney laughed uncertainly.
"It is a hard question, Mrs. Dick. I can hardly imagine a worse hell than having to live with such a man as you picture him, and yet—"
"I know! It's three against two! Good-bye, June Holiday Home, with your steam heat and Miss Sniffen! We must adjourn—there's Mrs. Grace and Mrs. Winslow Teed!"
For the ride home Polly sat between Miss Crilly and David in Dr.
Dudley's car.
"Isn't that a great bluff of Miss Sniffen's?" Miss Crilly's tone was too confidential even for Polly's quick ears. The repeated question carried as far as David—Polly knew from his sudden change of expression. But Miss Crilly talked on. "Seemed as if I must tell! I never was so stirred up in my life! It's the last thing I should thought of!"
Polly gave her a cautionary smile.
"O-o-h!" Miss Crilly cast a frightened glance in David's direction.
"A motor-car isn't the best place for talking secrets," he laughed.
"But I won't peep!"
"I haven't let any cat out!" retorted Miss Crilly.
She and David tossed merry sallies back and forth; but Polly was uncomfortable. David would think she did not trust him. She wished Miss Crilly had not referred to the matter.
"Come on down to dinner!" invited David, after they had said good-bye to Miss Sterling and Miss Crilly.
"Oh, I'd love to!" beamed Polly. "I'll run in and ask mother."
He hailed his uncle's chauffeur, and bade him wait.
In a moment she was back and they stepped into Colonel Gresham's car.
"I am going to share my secret with you," David smiled, glancing doubtfully at the man ahead.
"Otto," he said tentatively, without raising his voice above the tone he had used for Polly. The man did not stir. "Otto," a little louder. No answer.
He nodded complacently. "I wanted to make sure of him," he smiled.
"Now I'll go on."
"The other isn't my secret, David, or I'd tell you!" Polly hastened to explain.
"That's all right!" laughed David. "Perhaps this chimes in with yours, and perhaps it doesn't. Last night I went up to Billy Marble's, and when I was along by Ford Street I noticed a man and a woman a little distance ahead. I was walking pretty fast, and as I came up behind them and was wondering which way I'd go by,—you know the sidewalk is narrow there,—a light struck across the woman's face, and I saw it was Mrs. Nobbs. I didn't know the man. Has she relatives here?"
"A brother, I think, a bachelor brother."
"Tall, is he?"
"Yes."
"This man was. Probably it was he. I had on my sneaks—that's why they didn't hear me. I was pretty near, when I caught something that excited my curiosity. I heard the words distinctly,—'I wouldn't be in her shoes for all the money she has made out of June Holiday Home!'—'And that's no small sum, I'll warrant!' the man replied.—'Small!' she exclaimed; 'she's robbing them every day of her life! But she's in a terrible fix now, and I guess she knows it! I can't be thankful enough that for once she didn't make a cat's-paw of me! I said, 'When there's any flogging to be done, you will do it!' She was mad, and I half expected her to discharge me on the spot, but I know too much for her to dare to go too far. I've done piles of dirty work for Amelia Sniffen!'—'Better cut it out,' said the man.—'Can't, as long as I stay,' she replied. 'That's what I'm there for! But I've got so nervous since this happened, I don't know what to do! I start every time I see one of the Board come into the house. What if they should find out! You don't suppose they could hold me for—anything, do you? I'd give a farm to know how much Mrs. Albright has heard, but I'm afraid to quiz her. She's the one that rooms across the hall and tried to get in when they were having the time—she's got more grit than the others. I don't think Miss Twining would dare tell, and I don't see how she could—she is locked in all the time, ostensibly to keep her from visitors! I thought if Mrs. Albright did find out she'd go right to the Board; but there hasn't been a word yet. That woman needs a doctor if ever anybody did. Lucky for us that she didn't die when—'And that's all I heard. They stopped before they came to the Home entrance, and I was afraid of being caught, so I cut across the avenue into the shadows. I was amazed!" He drew a long breath. "But I fancy it isn't much news to you."
"Some of it is," Polly replied. "I never thought of Miss Sniffen's being dishonest with money. I don't see how she can—"
"Easy enough in a place like that. But this other is pretty bad business. If Miss Twining should happen to die without any doctor, and the authorities should find out that Miss Sniffen beat—"
"No, she didn't!" interrupted Polly. "I suppose she meant to, but Miss Twining fainted and that put a stop to it. I'd tell you everything, David, only Miss Nita and Mrs. Albright and Miss Crilly and I agreed not to say a word to anybody."
"Never mind! I can guess enough. Something should be done about it, Polly. If Miss Twining needs a doctor, she ought to have one immediately."
"I know it!" Her voice was troubled. "I wanted to tell Mr. Randolph; but they won't let me, for fear he'll take the Home's part, or something, and get them into trouble. I don't know what to do!"
The car stopped at the Gresham door, and Polly forgot disagreeable things in the pleasure of Mrs. Collins's cordial welcome.
CHAPTER XXIX
DISAPPOINTMENT
Miss Twining was worse. Dr. Gunnip had been called late in the afternoon. It was now nearly six o'clock, and the third-floor corner room was discussing the situation.
"I guess you'd better see Mr. Randolph to-morrow," Mrs. Albright was saying.
"Why not make it this evening?" returned Polly. "She may not live till morning!" Tears were in her voice.
"No, the Doctor didn't think she'd give out right away; he said she might last a good while."
"Little he knows about it!" scorned Polly.
"Well, he said it right up and down!" put in Miss Crilly.
"It is too bad!" Polly drew a long, sighing breath. "I don't believe she'd have had any heart trouble at all, if Miss Sniffen hadn't made this fuss!"
"The excitement has no doubt aggravated it," commented Mrs.
Albright.
"Is that all Dr. Gunnip said, that she had heart disease?" queried
Polly.
"He didn't stay long enough to say anything!" sputtered Miss
Crilly. "He walked in and walked out—I wish I'd timed him!"
"You'd have had to look in a hurry," remarked Mrs. Albright quietly.
"Guess he's like a doctor my mother used to tell about," observed Miss Crilly. "You had to catch hold of his coat-tails if you wanted to ask him a question. And he never would have consultation, no matter how sick anybody was. He said, one could play on a fiddle better than two."
A quick little smile ran round the group; but nobody laughed. The present question was too serious.
"Miss Twining didn't tell me much," resumed Mrs. Albright. "The Doctor had just gone, and I was in a fidget for fear Miss Sniffen would come back. But I could see that he had upset her completely. I don't think, from what she did say, that he gave her any particulars. He said she had got to be extremely careful. She feels as if it was about over with her."
"I wish father could see her," fretted Polly. "He wouldn't frighten her so, even if he did have to tell her that her heart was in bad shape! I hate Dr. Gunnip worse than ever! Did he leave her any medicine?"
"Oh, yes! I saw two little piles of tablets on the table."
"Likely as not they'll make her worse!" Polly got up. "I'm going to see Mr. Randolph to-night!" she announced determinedly.
"No, no!" objected Mrs. Albright. "Wait until morning! It would only excite her more to have another doctor now. She'd think she was in a worse condition than she is."
"I'd wait if I were you," agreed Miss Sterling. "I think it will be better all round."
"Well," yielded Polly reluctantly, and sat down again.
"What you going to tell him, anyway?" questioned Miss Crilly a bit anxiously.
"Why—everything!" Polly's hands flew apart with expressive gesture.
"I'm afraid he won't want to interfere."
"He isn't a fool!" retorted Polly. "And when I've told him all I'm going to tell him, if he doesn't interfere—if he isn't aching to interfere—he will be one!"
Miss Crilly giggled. "You're the greatest!" she said admiringly.
The next morning Polly awoke with the vague consciousness that something of importance was at hand. Then she remembered. To-day she was to see Mr. Randolph!
During breakfast the matter was discussed.
"You seem suddenly to have become a woman of affairs," playfully remarked Dr. Dudley.
"There isn't anybody else to do things," said Polly plaintively. "Miss Crilly wouldn't amount to anything if she went. She'd get scared first thing and make a regular fizzle of it. Mrs. Albright has pluck enough in some ways; but she couldn't be hired to see Mr. Randolph. Of course, Miss Nita'd do it all right; but she just won't! And somebody must!"
"It is full time," the Doctor agreed; "but it looks a big load for your shoulders."
"Oh, I don't mind this!" Polly said brightly. "It was hard, going to Mr. Parcell's; but this is—different, you know."
"Decidedly different."
Polly glanced up from under her eyelashes. She knew what he thought of her visit to the minister's, and now she sighed a little in remembrance of his fatherly comments.
"Of course, Mr. Randolph will be surprised—shocked, I guess; but he isn't to blame, and he's a lovely man to talk to. I think I'm going to enjoy it."
Mrs. Dudley caught the twinkle in her husband's eyes, and laughed.
"What have I said out of the way now?" Polly laid down her fork.
"Nothing," her father answered gravely.
"I don't see why mother was laughing, then." She glanced from one to the other.
They sipped their coffee in silence, but the girl detected a lingering bit of a smile on her mother's lips.
As soon as she had put her room in trim for the day, Polly ran over to the Home for a final talk with Miss Sterling before making her appointment with Mr. Randolph.
She found both Mrs. Albright and Miss Crilly in the corner room. A little excitement was in the air.
"Have you heard?" asked Miss Crilly.
Polly's eyes went frightened.
"No—what?" she said weakly.
"Don't be scared, child! It is nothing!" Mrs. Albright put an arm around her. "It is only that Mr. Randolph is sick."
"O-o-h!" mourned Polly.
"It's in the morning paper," added Miss Crilly. "It says, 'seriously ill.'"
"Yet he may not be," interposed Miss Sterling. "The papers seldom get it right."
"It is too bad!" Polly sat down. "Our paper was late," she explained, "and father didn't have time to read it,—he was called off from breakfast,—and I was thinking so much about going that I forgot the paper. Is that all it says?"
"Yes. It doesn't tell what the matter is."
"Now we shall have to wait!" said Polly dismally. "How is Miss
Twining?"
"A little brighter, I think," answered Mrs. Albright.
"Dear me! I hope Mr. Randolph won't die!" Miss Crilly's face was despairing. "There isn't another one we'd dare tell!"
"No," agreed Polly, "he's the only man we can trust. We can't do a single thing till he gets well."
CHAPTER XXX
DOODLES SINGS
Doodles had heard of Nelson Randolph's illness, yet he was unprepared for the additional tidings that came to him when he was on a downtown errand.
"Oh, he suffers something terrible!" exclaimed the boy who brought the news. "Carl Harris told me about it. He's down there in the paper office, and they say if he don't get better pretty soon he's got to die! The Doctor can't stop the pain."
Doodles walked away thinking hard. "Guess I'll go," he told himself. "He liked my singing the other night up here, and perhaps it would make him forget. Anyhow, I can go!"
An hour later Doodles stood at the door of the Randolph home.
"He's sick. He can't see anybody," said the maid who answered his ring.
"Is he able to talk?" queried the lad.
The girl nodded.
"Then will you please ask him if he would like to have Doodles
Stickney sing to him."
"'T won't do no good," she replied indifferently. "The nurse won't let anybody see him."
A man came slowly up the steps, and the boy turned to recognize a well-known physician.
"Oh, Dr. Temple!" he began eagerly, "do you think Mr. Randolph would like to have me sing for him?"
The physician looked the lad over gravely. He was so long about it, Doodles wondered if his boots were dusty and the Doctor were disapproving them. Then came the answer.
"Probably not."
"But he did like to hear me sing the other night when he was at our house. He said so. And when I heard how he is suffering, I thought perhaps I could make him forget it." His appealing brown eyes looked straight into those keen blue ones that the physician's admirers thought saw everything.
Dr. Temple considered a moment. "Come in!" he said.
Doodles followed where he led, which was into the first room beyond the entrance.
"Sing!" was the order.
Doodles, not in the least abashed, stood where he was, in the middle of the reception room, and began.
Soft, soft as the crooning of a mother bird, came the first notes.
"Peace…peace…peace I leave with you." Gently the music rose, the lad's voice beautifully modulated to suit the time and place. "My peace…my peace I give unto you:…not as the world giveth…not as the world giveth…give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled…let not your heart be troubled…let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
The physician sat still for a moment, as if reluctant to break the spell. Then he got up quickly. "Come!" he bade.
Doodles followed, up the velvet-covered stairs, with never the sound of a footstep, and to the end of a wide corridor.
"Wait here, please!" Dr. Temple motioned him to a chair by the window, and after knocking at a door disappeared behind it.
Presently he returned. "You may sing what you sang downstairs."
He went back, leaving the door ajar.
Again Doodles sang. At the end he waited, wondering if he were to keep on.
A white-clad young woman came out of the room, smiling to him under her pretty white cap.
"Mr. Randolph would like to have you sing some more," she said.
"The Lord is my Shepherd," "Come unto Me," "I will lift up mine eyes," "The Lord bless thee and keep thee,"—these and others Doodles sang, while not a sound came from the room beyond.
Then the young woman appeared again.
"Mr. Randolph says he wishes you would sing 'Old Folks at Home,'" she told him.
At the close of the song the nurse came to the door and beckoned him in.
The president of the Paper Company put out a feeble hand.
"Thank you, Doodles!" he smiled. "I suppose you came all the way from Foxford just to sing for me!"
"Oh, that isn't anything!" said the boy lightly. "I am glad to do it, Mr. Randolph. I do hope you will get better!"
"I am better now! You have done me good, Doodles!"
"I'm so glad! May I come again?" eagerly.
"I should be mighty glad if you could! I will send my car for you any day."
"Thank you!" The lad's face was radiant. "To-morrow?" He glanced at Dr. Temple.
The Doctor gave him a smiling nod.
"This same time?"
"Better than the afternoon," assented the physician.
Doodles was downstairs when the nurse came out to speak to him.
"Mr. Randolph says to wait and he will have his man take you home."
So Doodles rode to Foxford in Mr. Randolph's sumptuous roadster, to the astonishment of Blue whom he met not far from home.
CHAPTER XXXI
SHUT OUT
Miss Sterling was not in her room. Polly had knocked and knocked.
Finally she turned away and went slowly downstairs.
"Is Miss Nita out?" she asked of Miss Sniffen in the lower hall.
"I don't know," was the answer. She did not offer to look at the day-book on the desk.
Miss Lily came by, on her way upstairs, and said good-morning as she passed.
Polly had reached the door, when a little cry arrested her. She turned to see Miss Lily half kneeling on the stairs, clutching the rail.
"Oh! are you hurt?" Polly ran up to her.
"Not much, I guess," was the tremulous answer. "I can't see, and the stairs are so wide! I fall every day or so!"
Polly helped her up. "I'd go close to the balustrade, if I were you."
"Oh, no! I mustn't!" Miss Lily whispered, glancing down into the hall.
"She's gone," said Polly softly. "Come right up here! Afraid of scratching? 'T won't do any harm—with your soft slippers."
"She won't let me!" breathed the frightened woman.
"Oh, I guess she won't mind!" returned Polly easily. "That's what rails are made for—to cling to."
"What's the matter now!" broke in a cutting voice.
"Why, Miss Lily fell, and I'm trying to make her come up close to the rail, so she can get a good, firm hold; but she's afraid of scratching the stairs."
"Of course it will scratch—to go tramping over that polished wood! She's to step on the carpet, as I told her! You're always interfering, Polly Dudley!"
"Miss Sniffen, I didn't mean to interfere; but Miss Lily can't see as well as you can, and—"
"She can see well enough! Her eyesight is good. There is no need of her falling."
"But she can't get hold of the rail away off in the middle!"
"Certainly she can reach it! Don't stand there talking nonsense!"
Miss Lily turned and hastened up the long flight. Polly watched her for a moment and then walked slowly down the stairs.
The superintendent waited at the foot, her face flushed and stern.
"You have made trouble enough round here," she said bitingly. "Now
I think we'll stop it!"
"Why, Miss Sniffen, what have I done?"
"You're putting foolish notions into the heads of these old women—petting and pampering them in the way you do! To organize a walking-club for them, when they've got one foot in the grave—it's absurd!"
"Oh, they're not old—all of them!" broke in Polly. "Miss Nita isn't old!—or Miss Crilly!—or—"
"You need not enumerate! I know how old they are, and I know how old they say they are! To think of your coaxing them into such disgraceful escapades as you have! Those gray-haired women dancing out in a pasture lot! Oh, you needn't look so surprised! I know what you're up to, if I do stay home here! You were saucy on that occasion, and bold, too! Calling to passing automobilists to come and dance with you! It was scandalous!"
"Why, Miss Sniffen,"—Polly's tone was gently explanatory,—"you can't have heard it straight! We didn't do a single thing out of the way! And I didn't call anybody! Mr. Randolph and Miss Puddicombe drove along, and Mr. Randolph said it looked too tempting, and wanted to know if they couldn't come and dance. That was all!"
The superintendent primmed her lips. "We won't discuss it any further. All I wish to say is that hereafter you may confine your calls to Wednesday afternoon, when we receive visitors."
Polly stood for an instant, dumb with surprise and dismay; then she took a step forward.
"Good-bye, Miss Sniffen!" she said in a low, tense voice, and passed swiftly out into the sunshine.
She walked along, regardless of anything besides her own tumultuous thoughts, until, as she was turning in at her home entrance, she heard the old familiar call, "Pollee, Pollee, Pollee-e-e!"
David was only a few yards ahead, and she waited.
"What is it?" he asked as he came up.
The ghost of a smile flickered on Polly's face.
"I've just been shut out of the Home!" she said with almost a sob.
An angry light leaped in the boy's eyes; but he spoke no word, only clinched his teeth.
They went up the walk together, Polly talking fast. Mrs. Dudley met them in the hall, and the story was begun again.
"That woman!" cried the boy; "I'd like to go over and knock her down!"
"David!" chuckled Polly, with an admiring glance at his broad shoulders and athletic frame.
"It is terrible to think of those dear people being in her power!"
"Something must be done." Mrs. Dudley looked troubled.
"If only Mr. Randolph hadn't been sick!" said Polly plaintively. "But Doodles says he is better!" Her face brightened. "Oh, David! did you know Doodles has been singing to him?"
"No. I suppose that cured him." There was a little warning tone in the rich voice.
"It has helped," Polly replied gently. "It makes him forget the pain. Mr. Randolph sends after him every day and has his man take him home again—isn't that nice?"
"M—hm," nodded David.
"Doodles was here this noon," Polly went on. "Something was the matter with the car, and so he ran over while Murray was fixing it. The Doctor says Mr. Randolph may go to ride to-morrow if it is pleasant."
"When shall you see him?" asked David.
"Soon as ever I can—to think of Miss Nita's being shut up there, and my not being able to get to her!"
"It wouldn't do any good to telephone," mused David, "or to write a note."
"I'm afraid!" Polly shook her head. "If she'd grab those cards from Mr. Randolph's boxes of roses, she'd take a letter. What do you suppose she did it for?"
"Didn't want her to know who sent them."
"But why?"
"Oh, probably she's in love with him," replied David carelessly.
"Miss Sniffen?" Polly's voice was flooded with astonishment.
"Anything very surprising about that?" laughed David.
"Why, the idea! He couldn't!"
"No, he couldn't, but she could."
"I have thought of that," assented Mrs. Dudley. "I cannot account for her actions in any other way."
"It's so funny!" giggled Polly. "And she probably knows he is engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!"
"That is what stumps me!" exclaimed David. "Such a girl!"
"They say she has a fortune in her own name," put in Mrs. Dudley.
"Fortune!" scorned the boy. "I wouldn't marry her if she would give me a hundred million!"
Mrs. Dudley laughed.
"She'd be better than Miss Sniffen," said Polly.
"But to think of coming home to such a wife as she'll make!" cried
David.
"And sitting down to dinner with her!" went on Polly.
David shook his head. "A man might stand it for one day, but for a lifetime—good-bye!"
"It doesn't seem as if he would marry just for money," sighed Polly.
"That's what most men think of first. Isn't it, Mrs. Dudley?"
"Some of them," she agreed. "I can't believe they are in the majority."
"She'll make the very crotchetiest wife!" asserted Polly. "He'll have to keep her in a glass case! See how she went on up in the pasture! The sun was too hot and the wind was too cool, her stone seat was too hard, and the ground was too rough to dance on! Everything was too something! She wasn't contented till she got her 'Nelson' out of reach of Miss Nita. I guess men have to run more risk than girls do."
"Uncle David wouldn't agree with you," smiled David. "Aunt Juliet tells a story about him—long before he was married. A girl—I think it was a trained nurse, anyhow somebody he knew pretty well—asked him what he thought of her marrying. He waited a moment, and then said, in his deliberate way, 'Well, I don't know more than three or four decent men anyway, and you wouldn't be likely forget any of them!' She had to tell of that, and Aunt Juliet heard it. Uncle David looks solemn at first, when she begins it—then he chuckles."
"That sounds just like Colonel Gresham," laughed Mrs. Dudley.
"He's such a nice man!" praised Polly with emphasis. "And so is Mr. Randolph, just as lovable!—I wouldn't mind marrying him myself."
"You wouldn't!" flashed David.
"No," maintained Polly; "but I shan't have a chance," she chuckled.
Her mother heard the Doctor calling and went to him.
"You ought to go in there and hear those children 'talking about marriage," she whispered; "it is better than a circus!"
The Doctor looked through to where they sat, and smiled.
Meantime the talk in the living-room had taken a personal turn.
"I suppose you'd marry any of the fellows." David was grumbling.
"I should prefer to choose," laughed Polly. "Oh, David! it is funny to hear you go off!"
She dimpled over it.
"'Funny'!" he scorned. "That Wilmerding dude will be walking down to school with you, same as last year! Carrying your books, too!" David frowned. "And you'll let him!"
"He might as well be of use. It's lots easier than to carry them myself."
"Wish your father'd send you down in the car."
"He thinks it better for me to walk," she smiled.
"You'll talk and laugh," David fretted on, "till he'll think you're dead in love with him! You jolly with all the boys more than you do with me!"
Polly's face sobered. "David," she said, "in some things you are wonderfully wise; but you don't seem to know very much about girls. I am not always the happiest when I'm laughing. You talk as if you'd like to keep me in prison, same as Miss Sniffen keeps those poor dears over there. I know better, but it sounds that way."
"Forgive me! I'm getting piggish again!"
"No, but I wish you weren't quite so suspicious. I'll have to make a bargain with you,—how will this do? If anybody steals my heart away, I'll notify you at once."
David stood up straight. "I must go," he said. "It is later than I thought. No, Polly, you needn't promise me anything! I can trust you. Only—" He smiled, looking down at her. "Good-bye!"
CHAPTER XXXII
THE TALE IS TOLD
Nelson Randolph gained steadily,—so Polly heard through Doodles,—and she planned to see him soon. Then, one morning, the boy appeared with a sorrowful face. Even before he spoke Polly guessed that something was wrong.
"I can't go to see Mr. Randolph any more," announced the little lad mournfully.
"Why not? What's the matter?"
"That Miss Puddicombe!" The boy's face told more than his words. "She said Mr. Randolph was worse, and for me not to come again till he got well."
"0-o-h!" cried Polly. "What has she got to do about it! She'd better wait till she's married before she begins to dictate!"
Doodles shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't see how my singing could hurt him. She talked as if it was all my fault!"
"Nonsense!" scorned Polly. "More likely it is she herself! Don't worry, Doodles! He will get well pretty soon, and then things will be all right again; but—oh, dear, I wish he would hurry up!"
The next evening David brought the dismaying word that the president of the Paper Company had gone to Atlantic City for several weeks.
Polly was distressed over the situation until her mother suggested the happy thought that no doubt he would recover more rapidly than at home. Then Polly smiled again and was ready to enjoy David's new flute solo.
In her weeks of waiting Polly came to a new appreciation of David. Her closest girl friends were out of town, her mother unusually busy with some church work, her intercourse with Juanita Sterling limited to a few perfunctory calls; and except for David's cheery visits she would have been lonely indeed. Not a day but the boy appeared, often with flute or banjo, and he made himself so delightfully entertaining that Polly would forget the June Holiday Home and its troubles.
Lurking in the background, however, ready to leap forward as soon as she should be alone, was the torturing fact that Miss Sniffen still kept cruel wardship over her prisoners, and she counted over and over, joyfully marking them off one by one on her calendar, the days before Mr. Randolph would be at home again.
Still, it was not a very long waiting time, after all, and one bright morning Polly entered the private office of the president of the Paper Company.
Now that she was actually there, face to face with the "lovable man" in whom she found so much to admire, she hardly knew how to begin. But, suddenly realizing that the president's time was precious, she dashed into the matter at once.
"It is about the Home, Mr. Randolph, that I have been wanting to see you for so long. I was coming right after Miss Twining got sick, and then you were ill yourself. Before you were well enough to see visitors you went away, and there hasn't been a single chance until now. Oh, Mr. Randolph, do you know how affairs are going on over there? Haven't you ever guessed?"
"Why—what do you mean, Polly? Nothing wrong, is there?"
"Everything!" Polly's hands dropped with emphasis into her lap. "None of the ladies have dared say a word, because if they find any fault they are liable to be turned out. So they have borne it all as well as they could. I wanted to come to you a good while ago, but they wouldn't hear to it. Finally things got to such a pass that we four, Miss Nita, Mrs. Albright, Miss Crilly, and I, said that something must be done. We thought you were the best one to tell, for you have always been such a friend—we could trust you'"
"You can, Polly!" He smiled across to her. "You need not be afraid of my divulging the source of my information."
"Oh, I don't care if folks do know my part in it, but the others would rather you wouldn't give their names—unless it is necessary. Miss Sniffen turned me out weeks ago!"
"Turned you out? For what?"
"Oh, because I told Miss Lily to cling to the balustrade so she wouldn't fall! That is, it started there. She said I'd got the ladies into all sorts of scrapes. She scolded me for lots of things—one was that dance in the pasture. She said it was scandalous. I don't care so much what she does to me, only my not seeing Miss Nita. But the ladies are actually afraid of their lives! When Miss Twining was abused so, those that knew wondered whose turn would come next. Why, Mr. Randolph, Miss Sniffen almost killed Miss Twining!—Oh, of course, she didn't mean to!" For the man had started up with an exclamation of horror. "I think she was thoroughly frightened when Miss Twining fainted."
"But what did she do?"
"Why, she went up to Miss Twining's room, late one night, and carried a riding-whip,—she had threatened that afternoon to 'flog' her—and it upset Miss Twining and brought on a fainting turn. Now Miss Sniffen keeps her locked in all the time! I don't know what she would do if it weren't for Mrs. Albright! She rooms right across the hall, and her key fits the lock; so she goes in every little while. There's a card on her door, saying she's too ill to see visitors."
"That is the feeble-minded one, isn't it?"
"No!" flashed Polly. "She's not feeble-minded any more than you are! That's just a bluff! Miss Sniffen got scared and made up all that rubbish! Miss Twining is beautiful. I love her—oh, I love her dearly! She writes the nicest poetry! Father says it is real poetry, too."
"Why did Miss Sniffen wish to whip her?"
"Just because she wouldn't tell who gave her some money. She couldn't—she had promised not to! And it was her own money! But I must begin at the beginning, or you can't understand."
Polly drew a long breath, and recounted the details of the sad story.
"The next morning I happened to go over to see Miss Nita," she concluded, "and Mrs. Albright told me this. Miss Crilly was there, too. Miss Crilly rooms right next to Miss Twining and heard a good deal; but she didn't dare to stir."
Nelson Randolph gazed at Polly with troubled eyes, and rested his arm upon his desk.
"David Collins overheard something one night," she went on. "He was going up Edgewood Avenue when he came upon Mrs. Nobbs and a man,—probably her brother,—and what Mrs. Nobbs was saying made him keep along behind them, instead of passing as he was intending to do."
As the talk was repeated, the listener's face grew stern, and when Polly came to the end of her story he fingered the little silver elephant upon his desk before he spoke.
"You say that the board is not what it should be?"
"It is poor, dreadfully poor, Mr. Randolph. Lately they've had stale meat and sour bread—and hardly any fruit or green vegetables all summer long!"
"Yet her accounts stand for expensive roasts, lamb chops, early fruits when they are highest in price—the best of everything!"
"They never get on the table," asserted Polly. "Miss Nita and the others have spoken again and again of their wretched living. And the cooking is awful!"
"I am told that she pays her cook fifty dollars a month."
"I don't know what she pays," Polly replied, "but they seldom have good cooking. She is changing help all the time."
"We have trusted her implicitly," the president mused. "Her father was a man of undoubted honor."
"I don't see that it would be much worse to steal from the Home than to take Miss Twining's money or Miss Nita's cards or—"
"Cards? From Miss Sterling?" broke in Nelson Randolph quickly.
"Didn't you put your cards in those boxes of roses you sent her?" asked Polly.
"Certainly."
"She never saw any! Miss Castlevaine was going upstairs and happened to see that first box of roses on the hall desk. Miss Sniffen was fingering a card. When Miss Nita received the box there was no card there. That was why she was so long in saying 'thank you,'—she didn't know where they came from. We finally found out through the boy who brought them."
Nelson Randolph frowned. "A pretty state of affairs!" he muttered.
"And she never got one of your telephone messages!" Polly went on.
"What!" the man exclaimed.
"She didn't!" Polly reiterated.
"But Miss Sterling gave me no hint of such a thing!"
"No." Polly returned sadly. "I guess she didn't dare."
"Surely she was not afraid of me!"
"I don't know," replied Polly dissatisfiedly and with emphasis.
"It really seems sometimes as if she were."
"There must have been some tremendous lying," he mused. "They gave me messages purporting to come from Miss Sterling. Why should she be singled out in this way?" He looked across at Polly, as if he expected her to answer the question.
The red in her cheeks grew redder. She remembered the reason David had given.
"I think it is no uncommon thing for the ladies not to get their telephone messages," she replied evasively. "That was one reason why Mrs. Dick ran away with the milkman. She was so upset at not receiving an invitation to a wedding that had been sent her by telephone."
"It is high time that something was done!" The president lifted his little elephant and brought it down hard. "We have been inexcusably blind!"
"I wish Miss Twining could have some good doctor," ventured Polly.
"She shall!" he promised. "Be patient for a few days, and I will hurry up things as fast as practicable. You say she is a little better?"
"Mrs. Albright thinks so. She is over her scare a little. Dr. Gunnip frightened her half to death! He won't let her try to get up. Don't you hate Dr. Gunnip?"
Mr. Randolph smiled. "I don't know him personally," he replied. "I never thought I should want him for a physician." He shook his head musingly.
"I will lay the matter before the trustees and managers at once," he said, as Polly rose to go. "I need not ask you," he went on, "to be whist about this, since I have proof that you can keep a secret under trying conditions. I thank you more than you will ever know."
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON
Juanita Sterling moved restlessly about her room, doing this and that which had no need of being done. It was a mild day for late September, and she thought of a walk. No, it was nearly time for the afternoon mail, she would wait. If she could only get a note from Polly—or from David! One of Polly's notes had never reached the third-floor comer room! Since that, notes had been conceded to be dangerous. How she missed Polly's visits! She wondered now if Polly's interview with Mr. Randolph were really over. That report could not be entrusted to paper. She wished that her windows were on the front. She might go into Mrs. Albright's room—no, she had better remain at home, somebody might come. She took a book and sat down in the easiest chair; but her thoughts were not on the printed page. She slammed it back in its place with a mutter of scorn—scorn for herself.
"Shall I ever stop thinking—of him!"
Meantime, downstairs, the front doorbell had rung. Miss Sniffen answered it. She usually answered the bell nowadays.
Nelson Randolph stood waiting.
"Good afternoon!" he smiled. "I want to run up to those corner rooms and see how the light is, now that the windows are shut up. I think we may have to put in other windows on the side."
"Oh, no, Mr. Randolph, the light is very good, indeed! I don't think more windows will be necessary."
"Well, maybe not, then; but I'll just take a look at it, seeing I'm here."
She moved back slowly. "I think Miss Sterling is out; but you can see the first-floor room."
They went in together, but as the man turned to speak he found that he was alone. With a smile he cast a leisurely eye around, and then strode along the hall to the upper staircase.
The superintendent was coming down.
"No use your going up," she said in an unnecessarily low tone.
"One of the ladies says she is out, so we shan't be able to get in."
"Oh, that won't matter!" he replied carelessly. "I'm a good deal of burglar; I always carry a skeleton key in my pocket—it will unlock almost anything. You ought to have one."
"We have never needed it," she responded coldly, quickly preceding him.
She tapped softly on the door.
"Oh, you're in, after all!" she exclaimed in a voice of sweet surprise. "They said you had gone out."
"I have been here since dinner.—How do you do, Mr. Randolph! Are you quite well again?"
"Shouldn't know I had ever been sick—except for the doctor's bill!" he replied. "Now, how about this light, Miss Sterling? Do you find the addition in the way?"
"Why, of course, it isn't quite so pleasant," she admitted; "but I don't mind it very much."
"I think it would make things a little better to put a window in, say about here."
"Oh, that would be lovely!" she cried.
"I will suggest it, at any rate. I never like to spoil one room for the sake of another." He ran his eyes over the wall. "We might make it one broad window, here and in the room below, to match the one on the first floor—it wouldn't be a bad plan. We'll see." He turned to go, then halted and looked at his watch.
"I'm afraid you stay in too much. Miss Sterling," he said carelessly. "Suppose you put on your things and come for a ride. It is very mild out."
"Oh, thank you!" The red rushed to her cheeks. "I'll be ready in a minute."
Left alone, Juanita Sterling hastily brought out hat and coat. Her heart was pounding with excitement and—yes, joy! She chided herself in no uncertain words.
"Little fool!" she muttered. "He wishes to ask questions about the Home, questions that I am better able to answer than Polly—that is all! He is engaged to Blanche Puddicombe—remember that, and don't be a—dear, dear, where are those gray gloves! Oh!" as the needed articles were brought to sight.
She ran downstairs and directly out of the big door, meeting no one.
As the car rolled up the avenue she felt a delicious sense of freedom. She remarked upon the changing foliage and the unusual warmth of the day, the man at her side making only brief assents.
"That Dragon," he finally broke out, "didn't mean to let the
Princess be seen to-day!"
Miss Sterling met his whimsical look with puzzled eyes. Then, as the meaning dawned, "Oh!" she cried, a little blushing laugh keeping the word company.
"Do you always lock your door when you go away?"
"Never," she answered,—"then or at any time; we are not allowed to lock our rooms."
"She told me you were out, and that your door would be locked; but
I said I had a skeleton key in my pocket, and went on."
"You quite outwitted her," she laughed. "I don't understand why she should lie about it."
"I have been there several times and inquired for you," he resumed; "and was always told that you were not in."
A flush of surprise pinked her face. "I never heard anything of it," she said regretfully.
"So Polly Dudley told me. I saw her this morning."
"Oh, did you!" she cried eagerly.
"She was in my office for an hour or two. We have been blind as moles, the whole gang of us!" he added in a disgusted tone. "We have trusted that woman with everything—to your sorrow and ours! I hope the officers will see it as I do, but—I don't know. Miss Sterling,"—he turned to her with a brighter tone in his voice,—"do you remember when I used to come to your house to consult your father—and you would entertain me while I was waiting for him?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered, "I remember perfectly; but I didn't suppose you recollected—it is so long ago."
"I don't forget easily. You were a school-girl then, weren't you?"
"I was just through the high school."
"It was the winter before I was married," he said reminiscently. "It seems a lifetime since then. Yet it is only some twenty or more years ago. Your father was a very wise man, and I was pretty green in those days. I remember I wanted to sue somebody that had cheated me in a small way, and your father advised me strongly against it. I chafed a good deal at his decision; but I have thought of it a good many times since, how much better things turned out for me than if I had had my own way. Too bad he had to go so young! We need such men. I wish we had a few like him on the Home Board." He turned toward his companion with a rueful smile. "I am rather glad that happened down at the Home to-day. It has given me a little personal experience with the Dragon that may be convenient to have." He smiled again at her, that kindly, whimsical little smile that so well became him.
She smiled, too, and then, when he had turned back, she frowned. She wished he wouldn't smile that way—to her. He should keep such smiles for his fiancee.
"By the way," she began, "how is Miss Puddicombe? I haven't seen her lately."
"She is very well, much better than she was during the summer. She is in New York at present, visiting her aunt for a fortnight."
Ah, that was why he was able to take her to ride! She wondered if she ought to offer her congratulations, but finally decided to keep silent. S he was not supposed to know of his engagement.
The road wound up through a maze of yellow. Tall trees on either side sifted their gold down upon the travelers. Juanita Sterling caught a leaf in her hand and held it.
"How beautiful it is!" she said, and drew a deep breath.
The man turned to look at her trophy. "Oh, no! I mean the way," she explained. "It is strange, but it makes me think of heaven."
"The streets of gold?" he smiled.
"M—no," she replied doubtfully. "I can't quite tell myself; but I think it is the peace and the glory of it—the spirit of the place."
His eyes were on her face, and the car bumped over a stone.
"There! That's because I was looking at you!" he laughed. "A motorman shouldn't gaze at a princess."
She gave a little gurgling laugh; then she grew grave again.
"What do you say," he asked abruptly, "to keeping on over the mountain to Bryston and have dinner?"
Her heart gave a joyful leap, yet she answered quietly, "I am afraid—I'd better not."
"Oh, yes," he urged, "let's keep on! I am selfish, I know; but I'd rather eat dinner with you than to eat it at home alone, and I'm sure that Squirrel Inn will give you a more appetizing meal than the Dragon will furnish."
"I dare say," she responded. "What a bewitching name for an inn!
Is it as captivating as it sounds?"
"More," he smiled. "It is the inn that has made Belgian hare famous."
She laughed softly, and he speeded the car.
"I took Mrs. Puddicombe up there one day, and she has raved about it ever since. The house itself is very old, with little windows and a gambrel roof, and a well-sweep in the rear. They say, half of the garret is given over to the squirrels."
"What a delightful place! I shall love it, I know!" Inwardly, however, she amended, "Maybe I shan't!" thinking of Mrs. Puddicombe.
But once seated at the quaint little table, in the old high-backed chair, eating what tasted better than the best chicken that ever went into an oven, Juanita Sterling forgot Mrs. Puddicombe and her daughter Blanche, and smiled upon everything.
"I am having more dinners to-day than my share," she observed over the pumpkin pie and cheese. "We have ours at twelve, you know."
"What did you have?"
"Codfish balls and pickles and stale bread and butter."
"No dessert?"
"No," she laughed; "that was cut out months ago."
He shook his head gravely. "I didn't suppose it was as bad as that."
"This makes up," she said gayly.
It was a leisurely meal; and when it had come to an end the memory of it was not the least of its delights.
The air had cooled decidedly, and meeting the stiff breeze Juanita
Sterling shivered. She turned up her coat collar about her neck.
"Are you cold?" he questioned.
"Not much. I shall get used to it in a minute. It was pretty warm in there."
He stopped the car and jumped out. "There are some light-weight robes somewhere," he said.
"Don't bother!" she protested. "I rarely take cold."
But he continued his search.
"There!" he said, putting it around her shoulders, "isn't that better?"
"Delightful! Thank you!" It was cozily warm and comfortable.
She drew a deep, happy breath. The car skimmed along as if on wings. She could meet the wind with pleasure now. The stars twinkled down their glad greeting. Probably she would never see the like of this again. But to-night it was hers! It should not be spoiled by Blanche Puddicombe! She let her enjoyment have its way and talked and laughed freely.
"How can you keep so cheerful in the Dragon's prison?" Nelson Randolph asked at length. "I should think all of you would have been dead from gloom before this time."
"Polly Dudley has done a great deal toward keeping us up, and we have several very bright ladies there. Mrs. Albright and Miss Crilly would make a dungeon sunshiny."
"Happy companionship is everything," he assented. "That is what I am denied. My home is about the most desolate place on earth!"
"It looks delightful from the outside."
"Oh, the house is well enough! But what is the good of a house with nobody to speak to! I stay at the club evening after evening, because I dread to go back to that lonely place I call home." He spoke drearily. After a moment he went on. "I started out this afternoon with a good deal of hope; but you have thrown most of it to the winds!"
"I? Why, Mr. Randolph!" She gazed at him in surprise.
"Impolite," he nodded, with an apologetic smile. "But, Miss Sterling, you know that I love you! You must have known it all summer! And you try to be friendly—that's all! You didn't want to go to Bryston, and I was selfish enough to keep on! I suppose it is too much to expect, that you will care for an old fellow like me; but—oh, Miss Sterling! can't you?"
For a moment memory was swept away in the flood of astonishment and joy that overwhelmed her. Then, like a menace, the haughty girl of the sheep pasture loomed before her.
"Oh! no! no!" she gasped. "Why do you say such things to me?—you—engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!"
"O-h!"—It held a note of exultation. "Has that absurd story reached you? Miss Sterling, there is not an atom of truth in it!" The words tumbled from his lips. "Mrs. Puddicombe's grandmother and my grandfather were sister and brother. The families have always been friendly. Last summer Blanche was in such wretched health that her mother wanted me to take her to ride as often as I could. So whenever I went off on business I would carry Blanche along. That is all there is to it!"
They were moving slowly now. A great car came honking up behind, roared past, and became a red star in the distance. Another flashed out ahead, glared down upon them, and whizzed by. Nelson Randolph spoke again.
"Have you no hope for me?"
"Oh, yes!" It barely rose through the purring of the car.
His right hand left the wheel and closed over the two little gray-gloved ones folded so quietly.
"You shall never regret it!" he promised. "I will try to make you forget this year of misery."
The talk ran on. As they passed through th6 outskirts of Fair
Harbor, he said:—
"I expect to go to New York to-morrow morning on the 6.30 train. If I can get through my business in time I shall come back in the evening; but I am afraid it will be too late for a ride. That will have to wait until Thursday. I don't know how I am going to communicate with you. I cannot bear to leave you without any means of letting me know if you are in trouble."
"I don't think there will be any trouble," she said contentedly.
"There might be. How would it do for me to tell the Dragon that you belong to me and that you are to be free to go and come as you please or to use the telephone whenever you like?"
"Oh, don't!" A note of fear was in her voice.
"You had better lock your door at night, then. There is a key?"
"Yes, but it is subject to rules."
"Ignore rules and lock the door! Dragons are not to be trusted. And remember, if there should be any trouble whatever, call me at once,—in some way,—and I will drop everything and come."
"Thank you! You are so good!"
He laughed softly. "Good to myself!"
They sped along Edgewood Avenue, and the car stopped in the shadow of a great maple. Miss Sterling threw off her borrowed wrap.
He stepped to the ground and put out his arms. What could she do but walk into them!
"I will go in with you," he said, as he set her gently down.
Her face was still aflame with his kisses when they entered the big door together.
Miss Sniffen met them in the hall.
"You are late," she said with a half smile. "Have you had an accident?"
"Oh, no!" Nelson Randolph answered. "We went up to Bryston to dinner, that is all. Miss Sterling thought she had better return home early, but I coaxed her to keep on and find out how Belgian hare tasted." He laughed lightly and said good-night.
Miss Sterling's foot was on the stair when the superintendent arrested her.
"You are too late for chapel," she said severely.
"I was afraid I would be," was the reply.
"This must not occur again. Do you know that Mr. Randolph is to marry Miss Puddicombe?"
"I heard so," she smiled.
"The wedding-day is set!"
"So I was told."
"Did he tell you?"
"Oh, no! I heard it a good while ago."
Miss Sniffen looked a little disappointed and turned down the hall.
Juanita Sterling closed the door of her room, struck a light, and threw her hat and coat across a chair.
On a small table a twin frame held photographs of a man and a woman.
She took it in both hands.
"Father, mother,—dears! do you know that your 'little girl' is happy?—happier than she has been since you went away?"
The last words broke in a sob; but the eyes that looked up into hers were smiling.