THE TALE IS TOLD
Nelson Randolph gained steadily,--so Polly heard through
Doodles,--and she planned to see him soon. Then, one morning, the
boy appeared with a sorrowful face. Even before he spoke Polly
guessed that something was wrong.
"I can't go to see Mr. Randolph any more," announced the little lad
mournfully.
"Why not? What's the matter?"
"That Miss Puddicombe!" The boy's face told more than his words.
"She said Mr. Randolph was worse, and for me not to come again till
he got well."
"0-o-h!" cried Polly. "What has she got to do about it! She'd
better wait till she's married before she begins to dictate!"
Doodles shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't see how my singing
could hurt him. She talked as if it was all my fault!"
"Nonsense!" scorned Polly. "More likely it is she herself! Don't
worry, Doodles! He will get well pretty soon, and then things will
be all right again; but--oh, dear, I wish he would hurry up!"
The next evening David brought the dismaying word that the
president of the Paper Company had gone to Atlantic City for
several weeks.
Polly was distressed over the situation until her mother suggested
the happy thought that no doubt he would recover more rapidly than
at home. Then Polly smiled again and was ready to enjoy David's
new flute solo.
In her weeks of waiting Polly came to a new appreciation of David.
Her closest girl friends were out of town, her mother unusually
busy with some church work, her intercourse with Juanita Sterling
limited to a few perfunctory calls; and except for David's cheery
visits she would have been lonely indeed. Not a day but the boy
appeared, often with flute or banjo, and he made himself so
delightfully entertaining that Polly would forget the June Holiday
Home and its troubles.
Lurking in the background, however, ready to leap forward as soon
as she should be alone, was the torturing fact that Miss Sniffen
still kept cruel wardship over her prisoners, and she counted over
and over, joyfully marking them off one by one on her calendar, the
days before Mr. Randolph would be at home again.
Still, it was not a very long waiting time, after all, and one
bright morning Polly entered the private office of the president of
the Paper Company.
Now that she was actually there, face to face with the "lovable
man" in whom she found so much to admire, she hardly knew how to
begin. But, suddenly realizing that the president's time was
precious, she dashed into the matter at once.
"It is about the Home, Mr. Randolph, that I have been wanting to
see you for so long. I was coming right after Miss Twining got
sick, and then you were ill yourself. Before you were well enough
to see visitors you went away, and there hasn't been a single
chance until now. Oh, Mr. Randolph, do you know how affairs are
going on over there? Haven't you ever guessed?"
"Why--what do you mean, Polly? Nothing wrong, is there?"
"Everything!" Polly's hands dropped with emphasis into her lap.
"None of the ladies have dared say a word, because if they find any
fault they are liable to be turned out. So they have borne it all
as well as they could. I wanted to come to you a good while ago,
but they wouldn't hear to it. Finally things got to such a pass
that we four, Miss Nita, Mrs. Albright, Miss Crilly, and I, said
that something must be done. We thought you were the best one to
tell, for you have always been such a friend--we could trust you'"
"You can, Polly!" He smiled across to her. "You need not be
afraid of my divulging the source of my information."
"Oh, I don't care if folks do know my part in it, but the others
would rather you wouldn't give their names--unless it is necessary.
Miss Sniffen turned me out weeks ago!"
"Turned you out? For what?"
"Oh, because I told Miss Lily to cling to the balustrade so she
wouldn't fall! That is, it started there. She said I'd got the
ladies into all sorts of scrapes. She scolded me for lots of
things--one was that dance in the pasture. She said it was
scandalous. I don't care so much what she does to me, only my not
seeing Miss Nita. But the ladies are actually afraid of their
lives! When Miss Twining was abused so, those that knew wondered
whose turn would come next. Why, Mr. Randolph, Miss Sniffen almost
killed Miss Twining!--Oh, of course, she didn't mean to!" For the
man had started up with an exclamation of horror. "I think she was
thoroughly frightened when Miss Twining fainted."
"But what did she do?"
"Why, she went up to Miss Twining's room, late one night, and
carried a riding-whip,--she had threatened that afternoon to 'flog'
her--and it upset Miss Twining and brought on a fainting turn. Now
Miss Sniffen keeps her locked in all the time! I don't know what
she would do if it weren't for Mrs. Albright! She rooms right
across the hall, and her key fits the lock; so she goes in every
little while. There's a card on her door, saying she's too ill to
see visitors."
"That is the feeble-minded one, isn't it?"
"No!" flashed Polly. "She's not feeble-minded any more than you
are! That's just a bluff! Miss Sniffen got scared and made up all
that rubbish! Miss Twining is beautiful. I love her--oh, I love
her dearly! She writes the nicest poetry! Father says it is real
poetry, too."
"Why did Miss Sniffen wish to whip her?"
"Just because she wouldn't tell who gave her some money. She
couldn't--she had promised not to! And it was her own money! But
I must begin at the beginning, or you can't understand."
Polly drew a long breath, and recounted the details of the sad
story.
"The next morning I happened to go over to see Miss Nita," she
concluded, "and Mrs. Albright told me this. Miss Crilly was there,
too. Miss Crilly rooms right next to Miss Twining and heard a good
deal; but she didn't dare to stir."
Nelson Randolph gazed at Polly with troubled eyes, and rested his
arm upon his desk.
"David Collins overheard something one night," she went on. "He
was going up Edgewood Avenue when he came upon Mrs. Nobbs and a
man,--probably her brother,--and what Mrs. Nobbs was saying made
him keep along behind them, instead of passing as he was intending
to do."
As the talk was repeated, the listener's face grew stern, and when
Polly came to the end of her story he fingered the little silver
elephant upon his desk before he spoke.
"You say that the board is not what it should be?"
"It is poor, dreadfully poor, Mr. Randolph. Lately they've had
stale meat and sour bread--and hardly any fruit or green vegetables
all summer long!"
"Yet her accounts stand for expensive roasts, lamb chops, early
fruits when they are highest in price--the best of everything!"
"They never get on the table," asserted Polly. "Miss Nita and the
others have spoken again and again of their wretched living. And
the cooking is awful!"
"I am told that she pays her cook fifty dollars a month."
"I don't know what she pays," Polly replied, "but they seldom have
good cooking. She is changing help all the time."
"We have trusted her implicitly," the president mused. "Her father
was a man of undoubted honor."
"I don't see that it would be much worse to steal from the Home
than to take Miss Twining's money or Miss Nita's cards or--"
"Cards? From Miss Sterling?" broke in Nelson Randolph quickly.
"Didn't you put your cards in those boxes of roses you sent her?"
asked Polly.
"Certainly."
"She never saw any! Miss Castlevaine was going upstairs and
happened to see that first box of roses on the hall desk. Miss
Sniffen was fingering a card. When Miss Nita received the box
there was no card there. That was why she was so long in saying
'thank you,'--she didn't know where they came from. We finally
found out through the boy who brought them."
Nelson Randolph frowned. "A pretty state of affairs!" he muttered.
"And she never got one of your telephone messages!" Polly went on.
"What!" the man exclaimed.
"She didn't!" Polly reiterated.
"But Miss Sterling gave me no hint of such a thing!"
"No." Polly returned sadly. "I guess she didn't dare."
"Surely she was not afraid of me!"
"I don't know," replied Polly dissatisfiedly and with emphasis.
"It really seems sometimes as if she were."
"There must have been some tremendous lying," he mused. "They gave
me messages purporting to come from Miss Sterling. Why should she
be singled out in this way?" He looked across at Polly, as if he
expected her to answer the question.
The red in her cheeks grew redder. She remembered the reason David
had given.
"I think it is no uncommon thing for the ladies not to get their
telephone messages," she replied evasively. "That was one reason
why Mrs. Dick ran away with the milkman. She was so upset at not
receiving an invitation to a wedding that had been sent her by
telephone."
"It is high time that something was done!" The president lifted his
little elephant and brought it down hard. "We have been
inexcusably blind!"
"I wish Miss Twining could have some good doctor," ventured Polly.
"She shall!" he promised. "Be patient for a few days, and I will
hurry up things as fast as practicable. You say she is a little
better?"
"Mrs. Albright thinks so. She is over her scare a little. Dr.
Gunnip frightened her half to death! He won't let her try to get
up. Don't you hate Dr. Gunnip?"
Mr. Randolph smiled. "I don't know him personally," he replied.
"I never thought I should want him for a physician." He shook his
head musingly.
"I will lay the matter before the trustees and managers at once,"
he said, as Polly rose to go. "I need not ask you," he went on,
"to be whist about this, since I have proof that you can keep a
secret under trying conditions. I thank you more than you will
ever know."