UNCLE MAURICE AT LADY GAY COTTAGE
"You can't live in Lady Gay Cottage much longer!"
This exulting announcement greeted Polly as she entered the
schoolroom.
She looked at Ilga Barron with puzzled eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Just what I say," answered Ilga. "She can't; can she, Gustave?"
The boy at her side Polly had never spoken with, but now she turned to
him inquiringly. He had been in school only two days, having but
recently returned with his parents from a long stay abroad.
"She's right," he asserted, addressing himself to Polly. "Father's
going to sell the place."
"Oh! is that what you call our house?" queried Polly, beginning to
understand. "Does your father own it?"
Gustave nodded. "Mother named it from the Lady Gay roses on the
piazzas," he explained. "Wait till June, and you'll see!"
"I remember them last summer," Polly smiled. "They were lovely--all
pink and white, but I didn't know their name."
"You'll have to go back to the hospital to live, shan't you?"
questioned Ilga curiously.
"I don't know," Polly answered. Her face held a bit of anxiety as she
moved away.
This piece of news was the foremost topic at the Dudley dinner-table.
Polly saw that her father and mother were disturbed by it. Although
the Doctor made little jests, the laughter sometimes seemed forced,
and occasionally talk would flag. There was no other rented house in
the neighborhood, and Dr. Dudley must live in the immediate vicinity
of the hospital to retain his position there. This Polly gathered from
what passed between her father and mother, and she returned to school
in no mood for study or play. Later a thought came which she felt sure
would solve the problem. It was not until after tea that she made the
proposition.
"Father," she began, atilt on the arm of his chair, "should you like
to buy this house yourself?"
"Possibly, if I had plenty of money; but what little I have is tied up
where I can't get at it conveniently."
"Oh, then you can buy it right away!" Polly cried gleefully. "You can
take my two thousand dollars! Won't that be enough?"
Dr. Dudley's lips set themselves firmly, and he shook his head.
"No, Thistledown, I cannot touch your money. Don't you remember, I
told you it must stay where it is until you are of age?"
"Oh, but this is different!" she urged. "Please take it--do!"
Her entreaties, however, could not prevail against the Doctor's
judgment.
"What shall we do, then?" she complained.
"Keep still for the present," he laughed. "The house isn't sold yet,
perhaps won't be. Don't worry over it, Thistledown! There will be some
way out, and a good way, too. Your Cousin Floyd told me to-night that
the Royal is due to-morrow. You know that is the steamer his father
sailed on, so you may expect to see your uncle by Friday. Floyd thinks
he will come up at once."
"I shall like him if he is as nice as Floyd," returned Polly
thoughtfully.
Dr. Dudley said nothing. He was weighing love and legal rights against
wealth and near kinship. The balance did not appear to be in his
favor.
On Thursday Polly was thrown into a pleasant excitement by the
telephone message that came to Dr. Dudley. Uncle Maurice Westwood was
in New York, and would motor up to Fair Harbor the next morning, to
see his son and his new niece.
"I shall have to stay home from school, shan't I?" Polly questioned
eagerly.
"I think not," was the quiet answer. "It is uncertain what time he
will come, so things had better go on as usual."
"But what if he should go back before I got home?" worried Polly.
Mrs. Dudley laughed. "No danger of that! Don't you think your uncle
will be as anxious to see you as you are to see him?"
"Maybe," she replied doubtfully.
She felt that so unusual an occasion called for her best dress and a
stately waiting for the visitor, instead of going to school in her
common frock just as on ordinary days when nothing happened. But she
made no further objection, joining David on the front walk, and
telling him that "Uncle Maurice" was actually coming.
Returning at noon, Polly ran nearly all the way, so eager was she
to see if her uncle's car were in front of the house. To her
disappointment the only vehicle in sight was a grocer's team at
Colonel Gresham's side gate.
"I'm afraid he's gone," she lamented under her breath; yet she hurried
round to the kitchen door, and was relieved of her fear by hearing
voices in the living-room, her mother's and a deeper one that she did
not know.
Uncle Maurice looked a little as Polly had pictured, patterning him by
his young son; but she had not made sufficient allowance for years,
and he was older and very much bigger than she had imagined he would
be. His smile was pleasant, like Floyd's, and his greeting cordial
and even fatherly. When Dr. Dudley came in he found her chatting
familiarly upon her uncle's knee.
It was not until after dinner that Mr. Westwood spoke of Polly's
future. Then his first sentence almost caught away her breath.
"Well, Doctor, I suppose you are going to give this little girl to
me."
"It will be as Polly says," replied the physician, with a grave smile.
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--"
Nobody 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 butter 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.