"HOPE DEFERRED"
"I didn't see the minister," Polly reported to Miss Twining. "He
and his wife were both away. So I left the book with the maid and
said that you sent it to Mr. Parcell--that was right, wasn't it?"
"Certainly, and I thank you ever so much. I do hope he won't think
me presumptuous," she added.
"Why, how could he--such a beautiful book as yours?"
"I don't know. He might. I lay awake last night thinking about
it."
"You shouldn't have stayed awake a minute," laughed Polly. "I
wouldn't wonder if you'd hear from him this afternoon. Then you'll
stop worrying."
Miss Twining laughed a little, too. "I'm glad I sent it anyway,"
she said. "It has given me something to think of and something to
hope for. The days are pretty monotonous here--oh, it is so nice
to have you come running in! You don't know how much good you do
me!"
"Do I? I guess it's because I'm such a chatterbox! There! I
haven't told you what father and mother said about your book!
Father took it and read and read and read. Finally he looked up
and asked, 'Did you say a lady at the Home wrote these?' Then he
brought his head down, as he does when he is pleased, and
exclaimed, 'They ought to be proud of her!'--just what I said, you
know!"
"I am so glad he likes them!" Miss Twining's delicate face grew
pink with pleasure.
"Oh, he does! He kept reading--it seemed as if he couldn't lay it
down--till somebody called him. And when he got up he said, 'This
is poetry--I should like to see the woman who can write like that.
She must be worth knowing.'"
"Oh, Polly!" Miss Twining's eyes overflowed with happy tears.
"That is the best compliment I ever had in my life--and from such a
man as your father!"
"Mother fairly raves over the poems," went on Polly. "She says she
is coming over here next visiting day to get acquainted with you."
"I hope she will come," smiled the little woman. "I have always
wished I could know her, she looks so sweet as she sits there
beside you in church."
"She is sweet!" nodded Polly. "Nobody knows how sweet till they've
lived with her."
Every day now Miss Twining had a visit from Polly, and every day
she had to tell her that she had not heard from Mr. Parcell.
"He is only waiting till he has read the book through," Polly
assured the disappointed author. "Or maybe he is coming to tell
you how much he thinks of it--you'd like that better, shouldn't
you?"
"I don't mind which way, if only he doesn't scorn it and says
something," was the half-smiling reply.
But as the days and weeks passed, and brought no word from the
recipient of "Hilltop Days," Polly hardly knew how to comfort the
sorrowful giver. She began to wish that she had not urged Miss
Twining to send the book to Mr. Parcell. She even suggested making
some errand to the house and asking, quite casually, of course, how
they liked Miss Twining's book, but the little woman so promptly
declared Polly should do nothing of the sort that the plan was
given up at once.
At the cordial invitation of Dr. Dudley and his wife, Miss Sterling
and Miss Twining spent a delightful afternoon and evening at the
Doctor's home.
"I feel as if I had been in heaven!" Miss Twining told Polly the
next day. "It carried me back to my girlhood, when I was so happy
with my mother and father and my sisters and brother. My sisters
were always stronger than I, and Walter was a regular athlete; but
they went early, and I lived on." She sighed smilingly into
Polly's sympathetic face. "It is queer the way things go. They
were so needed! So was I," she added, "as long as mother and
father lived; but now I don't amount to anything!"
"Oh, you do!" cried Polly. "You write beautiful poetry, and you
don't know how much good your poems are doing people."
"I can't write any more--yes, I can!" she amended. "Miss Sniffen
didn't tell me not to write. I needn't let them pay me any
money--I might order it sent to the missionaries! Why,"--as the
thought flashed upon her,--"I could have them send the money
anywhere, couldn't I? To anybody I knew of that needed it! Oh, I
will! I'll begin this very day! Polly Dudley, you've made life
worth living for me!"
"I haven't done anything!" laughed Polly. "That is your thought,
and it is a lovely, unselfish one!"
"It would never have come to me but for what you said! How can I
ever thank you!"
"Nothing to thank me for!" insisted Polly. "But if you will have
it so, I'll say you may thank me by letting me read your poems."
"Oh, I'd love to! And then you can tell me whether they are right
or not!"
"As if I'd know!" chuckled Polly. "But I'll run away now and let
you go to writing--I do know enough for that!" She took Miss
Twining's face between her soft palms and gave her four kisses, on
cheeks and temples. "Those are for good luck, like a four-leaf
clover," she said gayly. "Good-bye, dear!"