A REUNION AND A VISITOR
Never was maiden welcomed so enthusiastically and so fervently, as Polly
Brewster, that morning when she stepped from the launch to the sea-wall
at Battery Park. Her father and mother vied with each other in embracing
and kissing her, while the tears of happiness streamed from their eyes;
John and Anne hovered beside them, watching every dear feature of Polly's
face. Eleanor stood holding fast to her best friend's skirt, as if that
could keep her forever near her.
The members in the "Delegation of Welcome," acted as if they had been
imbibing some intoxicating stimulant. Such happy laughter, and vehement
demonstrations of joy and love because Polly was with them again, spoke
louder than words that they had all thought she was drowned. Tom found
that little fuss was made over him in the first exuberant greetings, but
he came in for his share after the doctor had concluded his story about
the valiant young rescuer.
"Now, Mr. Brewster, you pay attention to me," remarked the physician,
when he was ready to depart on the launch: "You take your daughter home,
at once, and put her to bed for the rest of the day, to spare her any
nervous reaction. Then, if she is all right tomorrow, you may allow her
to receive a caller, or two--no more for the time being, or you will have
her break down."
Mr. Brewster promised to obey the orders faithfully, and soon afterwards,
Polly's friends followed her and her parents to the automobiles which
were waiting near the curb of the Park. Tom was surrounded, on both sides
and fore and aft, by his family and John and Mr. Dalken, all of whom
wished to hear the thrilling story of the rescue again.
"I'd rather hear how you folks kept afloat after that boat rammed the
yacht," said he, shunning a subject that still made him shudder.
Mr. Dalken insisted that Tom with his father and mother get into his
luxurious limousine and let him drive them home. On the way uptown, Mr.
Dalken told the story of their narrow escape from being lost in the Bay
after the collision.
"Immediately after the yacht was rammed and we could collect our senses
to comprehend what had happened, and what to do, the old tub of a
ferry-boat kept on her course. But there were some worried citizens on
board, for they shouted and, finally, the captain stopped his engines and
blew the whistles to see if we needed help.
"Fortunately for us, a river tug was quite close at hand when the
accident occurred, and its captain called through a megaphone to say that
he would assist us in any way we commanded.
"Our Captain then ascertained that part of our gear had been shaken out
of place, and it would be dangerous for him to try to run the vessel
under her own power, and trust our steering gear. So the good old man on
the tug took us in tow and landed us, towards dawn, at our dock.
"The moment we were on land, I rushed to the telephone at the Yacht Club
house, and notified Police Headquarters. Ken Evans was an eye-witness to
the dive that we feared had cost Polly and you your lives; so we told the
Sergeant at the Station just about where you went down.
"The Bureau at Battery Park was 'phoned but they said the tide was
running out at that time, so you both would be carried past Bedloe's
Island; if you both were good swimmers there was a slight hope of your
being rescued.
"I tell you, Tom, we were almost frantic with joy and relief when word
came from Liberty Island that you both were safe in bed, there, without
injury or other hurt, excepting the shock. Polly's mother swooned and we
thought she was gone because it was so long before we could revive her."
Tom's mother sat holding her boy's hand within her own, and his father
smiled at him so often that Tom began to feel fussed. But Mr. Dalken
laughed at his apparent self-consciousness.
"Tom, my boy, grin and bear this ordeal for the time, as you may never in
your life, have another experience like it. It shows you what we all
think of you, to sit and idolize you in this fashion."
They laughed at the banter, but Tom felt more at ease after Mr. Dalken's
little speech.
Having arrived at his home, Tom rebelled against being kept quiet that
day. "Goodness' sakes, mother! any one would think I was an invalid. Why,
I feel better than I have in months!" and his happy gayety attested to
his spirits. But no one knew that he was joyous because Polly had kissed
him that morning. And he was sure that that _something_ he had detected
in her eyes, was the awakening of love, instead of the fervent gratitude
it really was.
Tom could not settle down to do anything that day, but he called John up
on the 'phone several times to ask about Polly. John patiently replied
each time, that Polly was fast asleep and would probably remain so, for
several hours more, because she required it. When Tom asked if he had
better come down that evening and call, John was most emphatic in his
refusal.
But the following day, Tom kept telephoning the Brewsters every little
while and Anne finally capitulated and invited him to call that evening.
Polly was fully recovered again, with no signs of the shock or soaking
she had received; so, when Tom was announced by the telephone girl in the
hotel office, she felt no undue nervousness.
"Anne, you are going to help entertain Tom, aren't you?" said she,
casually patting her hair down neatly.
Anne looked at her sister-in-law with an amused smile. "If you think you
will need a chaperone when such an old friend calls. Tom always seems
more like a brother than a young man who might turn out to be a beau,
some day."
Polly pondered this sentence for a time, then said: "Well, there's no
telling what he may think after that ducking, you know, so it will be
more comfortable to have you about."
Tom fully expected a warm welcome from Polly, and perhaps, another flash
of something akin to love that he thought he had detected in her deep
blue eyes, when he met her in the hospital. So he was more than chagrined
to find Polly smile friendily upon him as she took his hand in the same
manner that she would have taken Mr. Dalken's.
"I just thought I would bring in a little glow with me, Polly," remarked
Tom, when he recovered self-possession again. "A few roses, such as I
know you like."
He handed a long box to Polly and watched eagerly as she cut the string
and opened the lid of the box.
"Oh, Tom! American Beauties again! How lovely!" and she buried her face
in the fragrant red petals that filled the one end of the box.
Anne held out her hand for the box when Polly went to place it on a
chair. "I'll hand them to mother, Polly, for her to arrange in a jar. The
others that came yesterday, can be placed in another glass."
"Oh, did Polly receive other roses?" asked Tom, trying to appear
unconcerned, but flushing as he spoke.
"Why, didn't you send them to me? There was no card in the box, but you
always send American Beauties, Tom," exclaimed Polly, in surprise.
Tom laughed sheepishly. "Well, I did send them, Polly, but I thought I
would make you guess who it could have been. I never dreamed you would
give me credit for the roses."
"Why shouldn't I? It would have seemed queer if you hadn't sent flowers,
when everyone within a thousand miles, sent boxes and bouquets to me, all
yesterday and all day today."
"They did! What for?" asked Tom, wonderingly.
"What for? Why, goodness me! Don't you suppose my friends were _glad_
that I wasn't drowned," retorted Polly, in amazement. "Everyone that ever
knew me, sent love and flowers, so I never thought it strange that you
sent me some, too."
This was a hard slap for Tom, and he winced under the words which denoted
that Polly considered him only as one of many friends. Even the roses
presented that night, with a little heart-shaped card tied in the center
of the group of stems, now seemed useless in his eyes.
But Polly had not removed the roses from the box so she failed to find
the heart-shaped card that Tom had spent the whole afternoon in inditing.
Anne gave the box to Mrs. Brewster, and when that sensible mother took
the roses out, one by one, and found the card, she put it away with the
cards that had come with other flowers. She also forgot to mention the
card to Polly, so the girl never knew that Tom had written her of his
undying love. As Anne replied, for Polly, to all the cards, Tom received
the same sort of polite little note as others did, with Polly's name and
a "per A.B." signed to it.
Finding Polly so self-possessed that evening, Tom pulled himself together
with an effort, and tried to converse on various topics of general
interest. Anne eagerly assisted in the conversation, so Polly listened
without having much to say.
Tom tried to make Polly talk, too, but without success, so he became
silent and left most of the entertaining for Anne to do. But even she
found the task of finding subjects to interest two dumb people rather
irksome, and she decided on a _coup_.
"Excuse me for a moment, please, while I see if John has returned with
his father." So saying, Anne ran from the room.
Polly sat up and watched her go as if her protector had turned traitor.
She glanced at Tom in a half doubtful manner as if to ask what he would
do now with the chaperone out of the way?
But Anne's absence gave Tom's morbid senses an inspiration that he acted
upon without second thought. It was the best thing he could have done
with Polly in this baffling mood.
"I'm returning to Pebbly Pit, in a few days, Polly. I am actually
homesick for a sight of the dear old mountains."
Polly gasped. "Oh, no one told me you were leaving us. Jim told me that
he thought you might remain here for several months."
"Jim? What does that kid know about my affairs?" said Tom, impatiently.
"Besides, when did you see Jim?"
"Oh, Jim just dropped in for a minute this afternoon."
Tom felt the pangs of jealousy because his younger brother had been able
to see Polly before she would allow him to call. Then he remembered his
role to act the part of a platonic brother and friend.
Polly continued: "I think Jim is a dear boy. He is so fond and proud of
you, too. Why, when he was here he sat and talked of nothing else but you
and your loyalty to family, friends, and your work."
As Polly spoke, Tom felt ashamed of his momentary jealousy of his
brother. When she had finished speaking, he laughed and said: "What a
pity Jim sees me through such fine magnifying glasses. The undesirable
qualities in my character he never detects."
"I think it is great to have your family think you are all that is
wonderful! I think my family regard me as a saint, and I like it, too,"
declared Polly.
"That's because you are one, Polly dear," retorted Tom, and the fervor he
expressed in his eyes and voice, caused his companion to gasp.
Before Tom could follow up his sudden declaration and make Polly
understand his sentiments for her, she broached another subject of
conversation.
"Tom, what has been accomplished at the mine and at Rainbow Cliffs while
I was in Europe?"
Tom frowned, but he realized that Polly was more sensible than he. He
remembered, once more, what Anne had advised, so he choked the despondent
sigh and replied instead, with seeming interest:
"Oh, John and I had another queer bout with some thieves. They were not
after the land this time, but they planned to get at the ore and carry
off as much of the gold as they could lay hands on. Our old friend,
Rattlesnake Mike, caught them red-handed, and now they are serving a term
in prison at hard labor."
"Oh, Tom! I never heard a word of this!" cried Polly, eagerly. "Do tell
me about it."