PRINCESS POLLY RETURNS
THE days spent at the shore sped as if on golden wings, and Uncle John
declared that the sunlight seemed brighter while Rose remained under the
red roof of "The Cliffs."
He had given his little guests every pleasure, he had bought them a
beautiful collection of shells, and a tiny ship for each to sail in the
brook at Sherwood Hall. Was there anything that he had not done for
their happiness, their delight while with him at the shore?
Now the day for their departure had arrived, and his genial face looked
strangely quiet, and he forgot to laugh and joke with them.
He watched Rose closely, and once, when she looked up at him, she
thought his eyes looked grieved.
She laid her hand on his arm, and spoke the thought that was troubling
her.
"You don't want me to go?" she questioned. "You wish I was not going
back to Aunt Rose?"
Uncle John sat down in his great arm chair, and lifted Rose to his knee.
Looking into her brown eyes that were so like his own, he gazed for a
moment, then he spoke, and his voice was very gentle.
"I wanted you to come to me for this little visit, but I did not dream
how hard it would be to let you go. I shall miss you, I think you know
that, little Rose."
"I do, oh, I do, and I don't want to go. I wouldn't EVER be ready to
leave you Uncle John!" she cried.
Quickly two strong arms were around her, holding her fast, as he
whispered:
"WHY, little girl? Tell me WHY?"
"Because you love me," sobbed Rose. "Aunt Judith took care of me because
she HAD to, but she always said it was a nuisance, and now Aunt Rose and
Aunt Lois are kind and good to me, and they like to have me with them,
but they never--"
The soft little voice paused.
"They'd never think to hold me if I felt badly, and sometimes I'm so
lonely. Other little girls have mamas to care for them, and big, tall
papas who love them, and truly aunts, real GOOD aunts aren't the same."
"How about uncles? Are THEY worth while?" questioned Uncle John.
She lifted her head, and seeing the twinkle in his fine eyes, she smiled
through her tears.
"I've only one uncle," she said, "but he's the best one in the world!"
"He's scheming now to find a way to be with you at least a part of each
year," was the quick reply.
"Oh, WILL you, CAN you do that?" cried Rose.
"I think so," he said, "and I cannot now tell you just how I shall
manage it, but I am quite sure that I can do it, and until I am ready to
talk with your Aunt Rose regarding it, you must promise to keep it for a
little secret, a pleasant thing to think of when days are a bit dull."
"Oh, I will, I will!" cried Rose. "I won't say a word about it, but I'll
think of it every day!"
Her tears had vanished, and when Polly came running in she did not dream
that Rose had been crying.
"Only think," said Polly, "I have to say 'Good-bye' twice to-day, for
I'm to leave here, and then I'm to leave Rose's house to go back to
Sherwood Hall!"
"And we both knew that this was the day that Polly was to go home, but
last night she got a letter," said Rose, "and her mama says that she's
glad she's having such a lovely time, but that Sherwood Hall is so
lonely without her, she can't spare her any longer.
"I do think it must be dreadful there with Princess Polly away, but I
wish I didn't have to give her up."
"Well, now, suppose we make the trip as cheerful as possible," said
Uncle John. "You have your suit cases, your boxes of shells, your little
boats and two hand bags. Really, I think the automobile will be far more
comfortable than the cars."
"Oh, yes, yes!" they cried in delight.
"And I'll drive you over to Aunt Rose's house. I'll stay while we lunch
with her, and later in the afternoon we'll take Polly to Sherwood Hall,
where I shall take the opportunity to tell Mrs. Sherwood how greatly I
have enjoyed her little daughter as my guest."
"Oh, what fun!" cried Polly, "and mama will see you. I told her you were
ALMOST as handsome as papa!"
"Oh, spare my blushes!" said Uncle John, "but all the same, I thank you,
little Princess Polly, for your good opinion of me. I trust that Rose,
and I may borrow you again some day."
[Illustration with caption: "Look!" she cried, "the waves never danced
prettier."]
"And I'll love to be borrowed!" cried Polly, "for this has been a fine
visit. Just think how much I have to tell when I am at home, and Lena
and Rob and Leslie and Harry come up and ask:
"'Did you have a nice time Polly? Where did you go? What did you do
while you were away,' and I'll hardly know where to begin, because
there's so much to tell."
They ran down to the beach "Just to say 'Good-bye' to the waves," Rose
said.
"Look!" she cried. "The waves never danced prettier."
It was with a light heart that Rose let Uncle John help her into the
automobile beside Polly. She was to have two long rides with him, and,
oh, the secret that she had promised loyally to keep!
"He will fix it so he can be with me PART of the time, SOME of the
time!" sang her happy little heart, and her eyes brightened and her
cheeks grew pinker with the thought.
She laughed and chattered with Polly all the way, and the long ride
seemed all too short, for before she dreamed that they were near the old
Atherton house, they turned in at the driveway, and Nora, who had seen
them coming, stood smiling a welcome from the doorway.
They made a happy party at lunch, and Aunt Rose was so evidently glad
that Rose had returned that the little girl felt almost guilty when she
thought of the secret that Uncle John had given her to keep.
"It isn't that I don't want to stay here; I mean it isn't JUST that.
It's that I can stay here, and be happier because I have Uncle John now,
and he loves me, and, oh, he's planning, just simply planning to--"
Just as she reached that point Uncle John commenced to tell a very funny
story, and in the laughter that greeted it she, for the moment, forgot
the secret.
Uncle John said nothing of his plan to Aunt Rose. Indeed, he was not
quite ready to do that. He knew Aunt Rose Jerusha Atherton too well to
tell a part of any plan to her. He knew that she wished her little
namesake to be always with her, and he wisely intended to say nothing of
his wish regarding Rose until his scheme was complete.
"Then," thought Uncle John, "I'll have my way. I usually do!" and he
smiled as if the thought amused him.
Rose felt that the house seemed less gloomy than she had thought, but
she knew that it was Uncle John and Princess Polly who helped to make it
cheery.
And when, in the afternoon, they were once more speeding over the shady
roads toward Sherwood Hall, it seemed as if every day since she had
first met Uncle John had been a holiday.
It was Polly who interrupted her dreaming.
"Why, Rose Atherton!" she said, "I said 'Good-bye' to your two Aunts and
to Nora and to Lester Jenks, but I never thought to say it to
Evangeline! I didn't want to talk to her, but I did mean just to say
'Good-bye.'"
"Well, I guess you needn't mind," said Rose. "It may be you'd OUGHT to
have said it, but she never'd let you go without writing an old poem,
and p'raps it would have been a long one."
"Oh, dear," said Polly, "I'm ALMOST glad I forgot!"
It was a cordial welcome that awaited them at Sherwood Hall. Mrs.
Sherwood could not wait until Polly should be beside her, but stood upon
the broad piazza, watching until the big automobile appeared around the
bend of the road.
"Ah, there they come!" she cried, "my own little Princess Polly is
coming back to Sherwood Hall."
Up the broad driveway it came, and the moment it stopped Polly sprang
out and into the arms that opened wide to receive her.
"Oh, it's lovely to be with Rose, and I've had a fine time, so why IS it
so sweet to come home?" she cried.
"We who have loving hearts can easily understand," said Mrs. Sherwood,
"and Mr. Atherton doubtless remembers of days when, as a boy, he went on
vacation trips that he enjoyed with all the ardent spirit of youth, yet
when the day came for returning, his heart beat faster. Home, after all,
seemed the dearest place!"
"That is exactly as I remember it, but there's one thing that you did
not mention, and that was the tears that I had to hide," said Uncle
John.
"I started on my camping trips with high spirits, yet a bit of regret at
leaving home caused my eyes to fill. I could not let the other boys see
the tears for fear of being laughed at, so I made all sorts of excuses
for the moisture by talking of dust and cinders; that, however, never
deceived my comrades for a moment. Therefore, they dubbed me 'Softy,' a
name that I detested."
The sound of a firm tread on the gravel walk caused them to turn as
Arthur Sherwood came to greet his guest, and to welcome his little
daughter, Polly.
The older members of the party seated themselves on the broad piazza,
and while they were pleasantly chatting, Polly and Rose found their
little boats that Uncle John had purchased for them, and away they ran
to the brook to try them.
"Mine has rubies and emeralds for cargo," said Rose, "and a few, just a
FEW necklaces. What has yours, Polly?"
"Mine has diamonds and sapphires," said Polly, "and there are bracelets
and bangles in the hold."
"Oh, see their sails!" cried Rose, "how fine, they look just like real
ships, that have truly cargoes."
"And see them in the water!" said Polly. "The real boats floating, and
the shadow boats down, down in the water. Which are finest, the TRULY
boats or the shadow boats?"
"The truly boats are dearest, because Uncle John gave them to us, and
they are real, but the shadow boats are beautiful and they look like
fairy ships," said Rose.
"Push yours out into the brook away from the shore," said Polly, "and
I'll lash the water with this switch."
"All right," said Rose, and she gave the tiny craft a gentle push.
Polly struck the water sharply with her switch.
"Look! Look!" she cried, "See the boats rocking on the waves! See the
bubbles! Don't it look almost like foam?"
The boats rocked, and danced on the little waves that were only ripples
on the surface, and Polly was about to use the switch harder in an
attempt to make a hurricane when they heard Uncle John calling:
"Rose! Rose!"
"Oh, he's calling me," cried Rose, and lifting the little boats from the
water they ran back to the driveway.
A few weeks earlier Rose would have found it hard to leave Polly, and
she did regret it, but the fact that Uncle John would be with her on the
way back to Aunt Rose made it easier.
Then there was his promise, that only he and her own little self knew
about!
And later she was to visit Polly! Oh, these were pleasant things to
think of!
The "Good-byes" were said, Mrs. Sherwood had urged Rose to come a little
later to visit Polly, Uncle John had agreed to call whenever Rose was at
Sherwood Hall, Mr. Sherwood had promised to drive over to call upon the
master of "The Cliffs" and enjoy a sail on the Dolphin, and Rose, as
they drove away, spoke the thought that told of her happiness.
"I feel as if they were my own relatives," she said, "and oh, Uncle
John, isn't it different from the way it was when I lived here with Aunt
Judith. Then I felt so very poor, because I had only one person that was
really my own and SHE didn't,--need a little girl. Now I have Aunt Rose
and Aunt Lois and you, and you ALL want me."
"We need you, dear little Rose, and especially do _I_ need you."
"And you said perhaps, just PERHAPS, you could--" She paused.
"I said I should try to arrange things so that I could be with you a
part of each year.
"I think I can manage it, little Rose, if you say nothing about it until
I tell you that you may."
"I'll keep it," said Rose, "you'll see how I'll keep it!"
On the way down the avenue they stopped at Aunt Judith's cottage.
Repeated raps at the door brought no response, however, and just as they
turned to go, Gyp, the ever present Gyp, howled a bit of news from his
perch on the roof of the hen coop.
"Say! 'Taint no use ter pound on that 'ere door. She ain't to home,
'cause she's somewhere else! I seen her go out. She had a basket on her
head, an' a bunnit on her arm! No, a bunnit on her, oh--pshaw! I do'no'
how ter say it! Heigh-o-dingerty-dingty-dum!"
He had done the usual thing. Whenever embarrassed Gyp took to the woods.
Uncle John looked after the flying figure, and laughed when Gyp paused
in the middle of the field to turn a somersault before disappearing in
the woods.