Polly Part 38

One by one the Maybrights and Flower answered very clear and emphatic "No's" to Helen's question, and one by one they retired to wait for their companions in the pa.s.sage outside.

At last Helen put the question to Firefly. Two big, green-tinted hazel eyes were raised to her face.

"Yes, Helen, I do know," replied Firefly.

Mrs. Cameron uttered a shriek, and almost fell upon the little girl, but Helen very gently held her back.

"One minute," she said. "Firefly, what do you know?"

"I'm not going to tell you, Helen." The child's lips quivered, but her eyes looked up bravely.

"Why so? Please, Aunt Maria, let me speak to her. Why won't you tell what you know, dear Fly?"

"Because I promised. There, I won't say a word more about it. I do know, and I won't tell; no, I won't ever, ever tell. You can punish me, of course, Aunt Maria."

"So I will, Miss. Take that slap for your impertinence. Oh! if you were my child, should not I give you a whipping. You know what has happened to my poor _dear_ little dog, and you refuse to tell. But you shall tell--you wicked cruel little thing--you shall, you must!"

"Shall I take Firefly away and question her?" asked Helen. "Please, Aunt Maria, don't be too stern with her. She is a timid little thing; she is not accustomed to people blaming her. She has some reason for this, but she will explain everything to her sister Nell, won't you, darling?"

The child's lips were trembling, and her eyes filling with tears.

"There's no use in my going away with you, Helen," she replied, steadily. "I am willing Aunt Maria should punish me, but I can't tell because I'm a Maybright. It would be telling a lie to say what I know. I don't mind your punis.h.i.+ng me rather badly, Aunt Maria."

"Oh, you don't, don't you?" said Aunt Maria. "Listen; was not that the sound of wheels?"

"The doctor to see father," explained Helen. "I ought to go."

"Excuse me, my dear, I particularly wish to see your father's medical adviser this morning. I will not detain him long, but I have a question I wish to put to him. You stay with your little sister, Helen. I shall be back soon."

Mrs. Cameron trotted out of the room. In about ten minutes, with an exultant look on her face, she returned. Firefly was now clasped tightly in Helen's arms while she sobbed her heart out on her breast.

"Well, Helen, has this _most_ impertinent, naughty child confessed?"

"She has not," said Helen. "I don't understand her; she seems in sore trouble. Dear little Fly!"

"'Dear little Fly,' indeed! Naughty, wicked little Fly, you mean.

However, my dear, I have come to tell you that I have just had an interview with the excellent doctor who attends your father. He has gone up to see him now. He says he does not want to see you at all to-day, Helen. Well, I spoke to Dr. Strong, and he was _astonished_--absolutely astonished, when he heard that I had not yet been permitted to see my brother-in-law. I told him quite frankly that you girls were jealous of my influence, and used his (Dr. Strong's) name to keep me out of my poor brother's room. 'But my dear madam,' he said, 'the young ladies labor under a mistake--a vast, a monstrous mistake. _Nothing_ could do my poor patient more good than to see a sensible, practical lady like yourself!' 'Then I may see him this afternoon?' I asked. 'Undoubtedly, Mrs. Cameron,' he replied; 'it will be something for my patient to look forward to.' I have arranged then, my dear Helen, to pay a visit to your father at three o'clock to-day."

Helen could not repress a sigh.

Mrs. Cameron raised her eyebrows with a certain suggestive and aggravating gesture.

"Ah, my dear," she said, "you must try to keep under that jealous temperament. Jealousy fostered in the heart overshadows and overclouds all life. Be warned in time."

"About this child," said Helen, drawing Firefly forward, "what is to be done about her? You will be lenient, won't you, Aunt Maria, for she is very young?"

"By the way," said Mrs. Cameron, with the manner of one who had not heard a word of Helen's last speech, "is this naughty little girl attached to her father?"

Firefly raised her tear-dimmed face.

"He is my darling----" she began.

"Ah, yes, my dear; I detest exaggerated expressions. If you love him, you can now prove it. You would not, for instance, wish to give him anxiety, or to injure him?"

"Oh, no, oh, no! I would rather die."

"Again that sentimental exaggeration; but you shall prove your words. If you have not confessed to me before three o'clock to-day all you know about the loss of my treasured dog Scorpion, I shall take you into your father's sick room, and in his presence dare you to keep your wicked secret to yourself any longer."

"Oh, you don't mean that," said Firefly. "You can't be so awfully cruel.

Nell, Nell, do say that Aunt Maria doesn't mean that."

The child was trembling violently; her little face was white as death, her appealing eyes would have softened most hearts.

"Oh, Nell, what shall I do if I make father worse again? For I can't tell what I know; it would be a lie to tell it, and you said yourself, Nell, that no Maybright told lies."

Mrs. Cameron smiled grimly.

"I have said it," she remarked; "it all rests with yourself, Firefly. I shall be ready either to hear your confession or to take you to your father at three o'clock to-day."

With these words the good lady walked out of the room.

CHAPTER XVII.

TO THE RESCUE.

An hour later a wildly anxious and disconsolate little figure might have been seen knocking at Polly's door. No answer from within. A moment of suspense on the part of the little figure, followed by another and louder knock; then the small, nervous fingers turned the handle of the door, and Firefly pushed her head in and peered anxiously round.

Oh, dear! oh, dear! No Polly was in the room. And why did the great eight-day clock in the hall strike twelve? Why, on this morning of all mornings, should time go on wings? Firefly had great faith in Polly's powers of helping her. But the moments were too precious to waste them in trying to find her. She had another search to make, and she must set out at once. No, not quite at once. She clasped her hands to her beating little heart as an idea came to her on which she might act. A delicious and yet most sorrowful idea, which would fill her with the keenest pain, and yet give her the very sweetest consolation. She would go and get a kiss from her father before she set out on the search, which might be a failure. Very swiftly she turned, flew down the long gallery which led to Dr. Maybright's room, and went in.

Dr. Strong had paid his visit and gone away. Firefly's heart gave a bound of delight, for her father was alone. He was lying supported high in bed with pillows. His almost sightless eyes were not bandaged, they were simply closed; his hands, with their long, sensitive, purposeful fingers lay on the white sheets in a restful att.i.tude. Already the acute hearing of the blind had come to him, and as Firefly glided up to the bedside, he turned his head quickly. Her two small hands went with a kind of bound into one of his. His fingers closed over them.

"This is my Fly," said the Doctor; "a very excited and feverish Fly, too. How these small fingers flutter! What is it, my darling?"

"A kiss, father," said Fly, "a great _hug_ of a kiss! please, please. I want it so awfully badly."

"Climb up on the bed, and put your arms round me. Is that all right? My dear little one, you are not well."

"I'm quite well, now, while I'm loving you. Oh! aren't you just the darlingest of all darling fathers? There, another kiss; and another! Now I'm better."

She glided off the bed, pressed two long, last fervent embraces on the Doctor's white hand, and rushed out of the room.

"I'm lots stronger now," she said to herself. "_Whatever_ happens, I'll have those kisses to hold on to and remember; but nothing shall happen, for I'm going to find David; he is sure to put things right for me."

Meanwhile, Polly's absence from her room was accounted for, also the fact of Fly finding her father alone. It was seldom that this dearly loved and favorite father, physician, and friend, was left to indulge in solitude. It was the privilege of all privileges to sit by him, read to him, and listen to his talk; and a girl, generally two girls, occupied the coveted chairs by his bedside. On this morning, however, poor Helen was detained, first by Aunt Maria, and then by necessary housekeeping cares; and Polly and Flower were deeply engrossed over a matter of considerable importance.