Polly of Lady Gay Cottage Part 18

He did not look at Polly, who sat in a low chair near by; but she turned to him with an exclamation on her lips. It was arrested, however, by her uncle's response.

"It surely seems to be the only way to fix matters. To begin with, she is my brother-in-law's daughter, and it doesn't seem fair to have her out of the family. If my wife were living she would never hear to such a thing, and Floyd wishes her to come to us as much as I do. She will have a mother in my sister, who has kept house for me the last three years, and I can give her every advantage that a girl should have. Of course, she can visit you occasionally, and we shall always be glad to see you in our New York home or in California. I bought a place down on the Pacific Coast, some six years ago, and I have kept adding to it until I have quite a ranch. It gives us an ideal home for the coldest weather, though this last winter we made only a flying trip there. Business called me across the water, and Floyd would rather dabble in chemicals, and incidentally put his eyes out, than do anything worth while. He doesn't take to manufacturing. Wish he did!

My two younger boys, Harold and Julian, I put in a military school last fall, and they're having a dandy time. They will be home soon for their spring vacation, and then Polly can make their acquaintance.

They are fine little fellows. Julian is captain of the junior football team, but Harold doesn't go in for athletics. You'll find him curled up with a book at almost any hour. Let's see--he must be about your age. How old did you tell me you are?"

Polly, thus addressed, murmured, "Eleven"; but only her lips moved. It was as if an automaton spoke.

Mrs. Dudley, glancing that way, was startled.

The soft brown eyes were wide and brilliant, and a scarlet spot on either cheek lighted the pallid face. Polly was gazing at her uncle as if held by some strange power.

"He is only ten," Mr. Westwood was saying. "Julian is fourteen. But there isn't difference enough to matter. You three will get on admirably together.

"Better let her go back with me," he went on, turning to the Doctor.

"Mrs. Calhoun, my sister, will fix her out in the way of clothes. You can buy anything in New York, from a shoestring to--"

n.o.body heard the end of that sentence, for, with a leap, Polly had the floor. Her eyes flashed, and her voice was tense with anger and determination.

"Uncle Maurice," she cried, "I s'pose you mean all right; but I guess my mother knows how to get my clothes just as well as anybody, and you needn't think I'm going to New York, you needn't think so a single second! Why, I wouldn't leave father and mother for a million dollars! I wouldn't go for ten million dollars!"

"Well, Miss Highflier!" Mr. Westwood threw back his head in a chuckling laugh. "Some spirit in that little frame of yours! Shouldn't wonder if you took after your father. Chester was a fiery boy. Now, come here, and let me tell you something."

Polly's head went up defiantly. "I'm not going!" she insisted. "You needn't think you can coax me into it! You can't!"

"Polly!" The Doctor's voice was gently admonitive.

"Excuse me," she apologized. "I didn't mean to be impolite. But I shan't go!" She moved obediently towards her uncle, and he placed her on his knee, where she sat, submissive but alert.

"I want to tell you what a splendid time you'll have with us," he began.

"Other folks have tried to buy me," remarked Polly.

"Have they, indeed! It is a good thing to be marketable," with a whimsical glance towards the Doctor.

"I don't like it," returned Polly.

"Well, you won't have any more such trouble after you come to New York."

Polly was silent, but her lips were set, and her eyes grew ominously dark.

"Now, in the first place, you shall have anything in the world you wish,--dolls, toys, and a playroom to keep them in, and a whole library of story-books. Then parties--whew, you ought to see what parties Julian and Harold have! They'd make you open your eyes with envy!"

"Mrs. Jocelyn gave me a beautiful birthday party," responded Polly with dignity.

"Ah? But it wasn't a New York party. You don't know what kind of parties we get up in New York. Why, the flowers for the boys' last affair cost two hundred dollars!"

Polly gazed down at the rug, and followed the intricate lines of the pattern.

"Then you shall have the handsomest pink silk party dress we can find in the city, all fixed up with white lace--real lace, mind you! What do you think of that?"

"I don't want a pink silk party dress!" scorned Polly. "I have one already."

"Ah?" Mr. Westwood looked a bit disconcerted.

"I will buy you a Shetland pony," he resumed, "the very best one we can find, and you shall take riding-lessons with the boys. I'll see that you have the choosing of your riding-suit, any color and style you like."

Polly's eyes showed mild interest, and her uncle proceeded.

"I saw a pony awhile ago that I think I can get for you. He is high-priced, but I guess he's worth it. Such a pretty creature! He ate bread and b.u.t.ter and sugar out of my hand."

"That's what Lone Star does!" brightened Polly. "Lone Star is Colonel Gresham's beautiful trotter."

"I think I've heard of him," observed Mr. Westwood.

"Have you?" Polly cried. "Oh, I wish you could see him! He is the most lovelicious horse!"

Her uncle laughed. "Well, you can have one just as 'lovelicious' as he is, a second Lone Star, if you like. Oh, how you will love your pony!"

"I am not going to have any pony!" was the resolute announcement.

"Oh, yes, you are!" he wheedled. "And we'll take him with us when we go to our summer home up the Hudson River. Such a fine time you and the boys will have cantering over the country roads!"

For an instant Polly's eyes sparkled over the picture. Then she came back.

"Uncle Maurice," she declared, "there isn't a bit of use in your trying to make me want to go and live with you! I wouldn't leave father and mother for a hundred thousand ponies and parties and pink dresses and everything!" She slid from her uncle's arm, and ran over to the Doctor, where she hid her face on his shoulder, breaking into soft sobs.

Mrs. Dudley drew her gently away and upstairs. She ended her cry on her mother's breast.

When she was called down to bid her uncle good-bye, no mention was made of the subject which had brought the tears, and she thanked him very sweetly for his invitation to visit them sometime in the near future. Yet she watched him drive away in his handsome motor-car with a feeling of relief, and her wave of farewell was accompanied by a radiant smile.

CHAPTER XII

LITTLE CHRIS

Polly dreaded the next meeting with her Cousin Floyd, for she antic.i.p.ated his disappointment at her decision. But he took the news cheerfully.

"Just wait till we get you down to our house!" he laughed. "We'll give you so good a time you'll forget there ever was a Fair Harbor."

Polly smiled contentedly. This was so much pleasanter than her uncle's insistence.

Yet when his eyes were free to look upon her, his gayety vanished.

"So like my mother!" he murmured. "Not the eyes,--hers were blue,--but the mouth and the expression of the face--yes, and the forehead!--they are mother's right over again!" His lips drooped sorrowfully. "You bring her back to me better than a picture. It is a shame," he regretted, "when you belong to us, that we can't have you under our roof!"

"I'm sorry," Polly sighed. "I wish I could be in two places."