POLLY TRIES A LITTLE MISSIONARY WORK.
One change had come over their life during these months which, although
not explained in Polly's correspondence, concerns our little circle of
people very intimately.
The Olivers had been in San Francisco over a month, but though Edgar
Noble had been advised of the fact, he had not come over from Berkeley
to see his old friends. Polly had at length written him a note, which
still remained unanswered when she started one afternoon on a trip
across the bay for her first Spanish conversation with Professor
Salazar. She had once visited the university buildings, but Professor
Salazar lived not only at some distance from the college, but at some
distance from everything else. Still, she had elaborate written
directions in her pocket, and hoped to find the place without
difficulty.
She had no sooner alighted at the station than she felt an uneasy
consciousness that it was not the right one, and that she should have
gone farther before leaving the railway. However, there was no
certainty about it in her mind, so after asking at two houses half a
mile apart, and finding that the inmates had never heard of Professor
Salazar's existence, she walked down a shady road, hoping to find
another household where his name and fame had penetrated.
The appointed hour for the lessons was half past three on Fridays, but
it was after four, and Polly seemed to be walking farther and farther
away from civilization.
"I shall have to give it up," she thought; "I will go back to the
station where I got off and wait until the next train for San Francisco
comes along, which will be nobody knows when. How provoking it is, and
how stupid I am! Professor Salazar will stay at home for me, and very
likely Mrs. Salazar has made butter-cakes and coffee, and here am I
floundering in the woods! I 'll sit down under these trees and do a
bit of Spanish, while I 'm resting for the walk back."
Just at this moment a chorus of voices sounded in the distance, then
some loud talking, then more singing.
"It is some of the students," thought Polly, as she hastily retired
behind a tree until they should pass.
[Illustration: "It is some of the students."]
But unfortunately they did not pass. Just as they came opposite her
hiding-place, they threw themselves down in a sunny spot on the
opposite side of the road and lighted their cigarettes.
"No hurry!" said one. "Let 's take it easy; the train does n't leave
till 4.50. Where are you going, Ned?"
"Home, I suppose, where I was going when you met me. I told you I
could only walk to the turn."
"Home? No, you don't!" expostulated half a dozen laughing voices; "we
've unearthed the would-be hermit, and we mean to keep him."
"Can't go with you to-night, boys, worse luck!" repeated the second
speaker. "Got to cram for that examination or be plucked again; and
one more plucking will settle this child's university career!"
"Oh, let the examinations go to the dickens! What 's the use?--all the
same a hundred years hence. The idea of cramming Friday night! Come
on!"
"Can't do it, old chaps; but next time goes. See you Monday. Ta-ta!"
Polly peeped cautiously from behind her tree.
"I believe that voice is Edgar Noble's, or else I 'm very much
mistaken. I thought of it when I first heard them singing. Yes, it
is! Now, those hateful boys are going to get him into trouble!"
Just at this moment four of the boys jumped from the ground and,
singing vociferously--
"He won't go home any more,
He won't go home any more,
He won't go home any more,
Way down on the Bingo farm!"
rushed after young Noble, pinioned him, and brought him back.
"See here, Noble," expostulated one of them, who seemed to be a
commanding genius among the rest,--"see here, don't go and be a
spoil-sport! What 's the matter with you? We 're going to chip in for
a good dinner, go to the minstrels, and then,--oh, then we 'll go and
have a game of billiards. You play so well that you won't lose
anything. And if you want money, Will's flush, he 'll lend you a
'tenner.' You know there won't be any fun in it unless you 're there!
We 'll get the last boat back to-night, or the first in the morning."
A letter from his mother lay in Edgar's pocket,--a letter which had
brought something like tears to his eyes for a moment, and over which
he had vowed better things. But he yielded, nevertheless,--that it was
with reluctance did n't do any particular good to anybody, though the
recording angels may have made a note of it,--and strolled along with
the other students, who were evidently in great glee over their triumph.
Meanwhile Polly had been plotting. Her brain was not a great one, but
it worked very swiftly; Dr. George called it, chaffingly, a small mind
in a very active state. Scarcely stopping to think, lest her courage
should not be equal to the strain of meeting six or eight young men
face to face, she stepped softly out of her retreat, walked gently down
the road, and when she had come within ten feet of the group, halted,
and, clearing her throat desperately, said, "I beg your pardon"--
The whole party turned with one accord, a good deal of amazement in
their eyes, as there had not been a sign of life in the road a moment
before, and now here was a sort of woodland sprite, a "nut-brown
mayde," with a remarkably sweet voice.
"I beg your pardon, but can you tell me the way to Professor Salazar's
house? Why" (this with a charming smile and expression as of one
having found an angel of deliverance),--"why, it is--is n't it?--Edgar
Noble of Santa Barbara!"
Edgar, murmuring "Polly Oliver, by Jove!" lifted his hat at once, and
saying, "Excuse me, boys," turned back and, gallantly walked at Polly's
side.
"Why, Miss Polly, this is an unexpected way of meeting you!"
("Very unexpected," thought Polly.) "Is it not, indeed? I wrote you a
note the other day, telling you that we hoped to see you soon in San
Francisco."
"Yes," said Edgar; "I did n't answer it because I intended to present
myself in person to-morrow or Sunday. What are you doing in this
vicinity?" he continued, "or, to put it poetically,
"Pray why are you loitering here, pretty maid?"
"No wonder you ask. I am 'floundering,' at present. I came over to a
Spanish lesson at Professor Salazar's, and I have quite lost my way.
If you will be kind enough to put me on the right road I shall be very
much obliged, though I don't like to keep you from your friends," said
Polly, with a quizzical smile. "You see the professor won't know why I
missed my appointment, and I can't bear to let him think me capable of
neglect; he has been so very kind."
"But you can't walk there. You must have gotten off at the wrong
station; it is quite a mile, even across the fields."
"And what is a mile, sir? Have you forgotten that I am a country
girl?" and she smiled up at him brightly, with a look that challenged
remembrance.
"I remember that you could walk with any of us," said Edgar, thinking
how the freckles had disappeared from Polly's rose-leaf skin, and how
particularly fetching she looked in her brown felt sailor-hat. "Well,
if you really wish to go there, I 'll see you safely to the house and
take you over to San Francisco afterward, as it will be almost dark. I
was going over, at any rate, and one train earlier or later won't make
any difference."
("Perhaps it won't and perhaps it will," thought Polly.) "If you are
sure it won't be too much trouble, then"--
"Not a bit. Excuse me a moment while I run back and explain the matter
to the boys."
The boys did not require any elaborate explanation.
Oh, the power of a winsome face! No better than many other good
things, but surely one of them, and when it is united to a fair amount
of goodness, something to be devoutly thankful for. It is to be feared
that if a lumpish, dumpish sort of girl (good as gold, you know, but
not suitable for occasions when a fellow's will has to be caught "on
the fly," and held until it settles to its work),--if that lumpish,
dumpish girl had asked the way to Professor Salazar's house, Edgar
Noble would have led her courteously to the turn of the road, lifted
his hat, and wished her a pleasant journey.
But Polly was wearing her Sunday dress of brown cloth and a jaunty
jacket trimmed with sable (the best bits of an old pelisse of Mrs.
Oliver's). The sun shone on the loose-dropping coil of the waving hair
that was only caught in place by a tortoise-shell arrow; the wind blew
some of the dazzling tendrils across her forehead; the eyes that
glanced up from under her smart little sailor-hat were as blue as
sapphires; and Edgar, as he looked, suddenly feared that there might be
vicious bulls in the meadows, and did n't dare as a gentleman to trust
Polly alone! He had n't remembered anything special about her, but
after an interval of two years she seemed all at once as desirable as
dinner, as tempting as the minstrels, almost as fascinating as the
billiards, when one has just money enough in one's pocket for one's
last week's bills and none at all for the next!
The boys, as I say, had imagined Edgar's probable process of reasoning.
Polly was standing in the highroad where "a wayfaring man, though a
fool," could look at her; and when Edgar explained that it was his duty
to see her safely to her destination, they all bowed to the inevitable.
The one called Tony even said that he would be glad to "swap" with him,
and the whole party offered to support him in his escort duty if he
said the word. He agreed to meet the boys later, as Polly's quick ear
assured her, and having behaved both as a man of honor and knight of
chivalry, he started unsuspectingly across the fields with his would-be
guardian.
She darted a searching look at him as they walked along.
"Oh, how old and 'gentlemanly' you look, Edgar! I feel quite afraid of
you!"
"I 'm glad you do. There used to be a painful lack of reverence in
your manners, Miss Polly."
"There used to be a painful lack of politeness in yours, Mr. Edgar. Oh
dear, I meant to begin so nicely with you and astonish you with my new
grown-up manners! Now, Edgar, let us begin as if we had just been
introduced; if you will try your best not to be provoking, I won't say
a single disagreeable thing."
"Polly, shall I tell you the truth?"
"You might try; it would be good practice even if you did n't
accomplish anything."
"How does that remark conform with your late promises? However, I 'll
be forgiving and see if I receive any reward; I 've tried every other
line of action. What I was going to say when you fired that last shot
was this: I agree with Jack Howard, who used to say that he would
rather quarrel with you than be friends with any other girl."
"It is nice," said Polly complacently. "I feel a sort of pleasant glow
myself, whenever I 've talked to you a few minutes; but the trouble is
that you used to fan that pleasant glow into a raging heat, and then we
both got angry."
"If the present 'raging heat' has faded into the 'pleasant glow,' I
don't mind telling you that you are very much improved," said Edgar
encouragingly. "Your temper seems much the same, but no one who knew
you at fourteen could have foreseen that you would turn out so
exceedingly well."
"Do you mean that I am better looking?" asked Polly, with the excited
frankness of sixteen years.
"Exactly."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Edgar. I 'm a thousand times obliged. I
've thought so myself, lately; but it's worth everything to have your
grown-up, college opinion. Of course red hair has come into vogue,
that's one point in my favor, though I fear mine is a little vivid even
for the fashion; Margery has done a water color of my head which Phil
says looks like the explosion of a tomato. Then my freckles are almost
gone, and that is a great help; if you examine me carefully in this
strong light you can only count seven, and two of those are getting
faint-hearted. Nothing can be done with my aspiring nose. I 've tried
in vain to push it down, and now I 'm simply living it down."
Edgar examined her in the strong light mischievously. "Turn your
profile," he said. "That's right; now, do you know, I rather like your
nose, and it's a very valuable index to your disposition. I don't know
whether, if it were removed from your face, it would mean so much; but
taken in connection with its surroundings, it's a very expressive
feature; it warns the stranger to be careful. In fact, most of your
features are danger signals, Polly; I 'm rather glad I 've been taking
a course of popular medical lectures on First Aid to the Injured!"
And so, with a great deal of nonsense and a good sprinkling of quiet,
friendly chat, they made their way to Professor Salazar's house,
proffered Polly's apologies, and took the train for San Francisco.