Main Street was not hard to find, neither seemed the Fosters. A corner
druggist directed Dan without hesitation to a wide, old-fashioned house,
surrounded by lawns and gardens, in which the hydrangeas--blue, pink,
purple--were in gorgeous summer bloom. But, though the broad porch was gay
with cushions and hammocks, no boys were in sight; and, lifting the latch
of the iron gate, Dan was proceeding up the flower-girdled path to the
house, when the hall door burst open and a pretty little girl came flying
down the steps in wild alarm.
"Bobby!" she cried. "My Bobby is out! Bobby is gone! Oh, somebody catch
Bobby, please,--somebody catch my Bobby!"
A gush of song answered the wail. Perched upon the biggest and pinkest of
the hydrangeas was a naughty little canary, its head on one side warbling
defiantly in the first thrill of joyous freedom. Its deserted mistress
paused breathlessly. A touch, a movement, she knew would send him off into
sunlit space beyond her reach forever.
Quick-witted Dan caught on to the situation. A well-aimed toss of his cap,
and the hydrangea blooms were quivering under the beat of the captive's
fluttering wings. Dan sprang forward and with a gentle, cautious hand
grasped his prisoner.
"Oh, oh, oh!" was all the little lady could cry, clasping her hands
rapturously. "Don't--don't hurt him, please!"
"I won't," was the answer. "But get his cage quick; for he's scared to
death at my holding him."
Bobby's mistress darted into the house at the word, and reappeared again
in a moment with a gilded palace that was surely all a bird could ask
for.
"O Bobby, Bobby!" she murmured reproachfully, as Dan deposited his subdued
and trembling captive behind the glittering bars. "When you had this
lovely new cage and everything you wanted!"
"No, he hadn't," said Dan, conscious of a sudden sympathy with his
feathered prisoner. "He has wings and wants to use them."
"But he couldn't find seed or chickweed for himself, and the cats and
hawks would have had him before morning. Oh, I'm so glad to get him back
safe I don't know how to thank you for catching him for me!" And the
little lady lifted a pair of violet eyes, that were still sparkling with
tears, to her benefactor's face.
"Pooh! It wasn't anything," said Dan, shyly.
"Yes, it was. You threw your cap fine. My brothers couldn't have done it,
I know. They would have just laughed and teased, and let Bobby fly away
forever. You are the nicest boy I ever saw," continued Bobby's mistress,
who was at the age when young ladies speak their mind frankly. "What is
your name?"
"Dan Dolan," was the reply, with the smile that showed Aunt Winnie's boy
at his best. "Let me carry your bird cage to the house for you. It is too
heavy for a little girl."
"Oh, thank you! But I'm not such a little girl as you think: I am nearly
ten years old," said the young lady, as Dan took up Bobby and his cage,
and they proceeded up the broad gravelled path to the house; "and my name
is Polly Forester, and--"
"Forester!" blurted out Dan. "Then I'm on the wrong track. They told me
this was the Foster house."
"Oh, no!" Miss Polly shook her head, that, with its golden brown ringlets,
looked very much like a flower itself. "This has been our house for more
than a hundred years. My grandfather lived here, and my great-grandfather
and all my grandfathers. One of them fought with George Washington; we've
got his sword. Would you like to see it?" asked Miss Polly, becoming
graciously hospitable as they approached the porch.
"I'm afraid I haven't time," answered Dan. "You see, I'm looking for two
of our fellows. We're a lot of St. Andrew's boys off for the summer, and
the boat is waiting to take us back to Killykinick."
"Oh, are you staying there?" asked the young lady, with wide-eyed
interest. "I've passed it often in dad's yacht."
"Polly dear!" called a sweet voice, and a grown-up image of that young
person came hurriedly out on the porch,--a lovely lady, all in soft
trailing white and blue ribbons. "What is the matter? Your cry woke me out
of a sound sleep and put me all in a flutter."
"O mamma dear, I'm sorry! But it was Bobby. He flew out of his cage when I
was trying to teach him to perch on my hand, and got away. He would have
gone forever if this nice boy had not caught him for me! His name is Dan
Dolan, mamma, and he is staying at Killykinick with a lot of college boys.
Dan is looking for the other boys, who are at the Fosters; and some one
told him this was the house, and he came just in time to catch my Bobby
under his cap, and--"
"The Fosters?" interrupted mamma, who was used to clearing up things for
Polly. "Probably you are looking for Colonel Foster, who came down last
week," she continued, turning a smiling face to Dan. "They have rented the
Pelham cottage for the summer. You know where that is, Polly?"
"Oh, yes!" answered the little lady, cheerfully. "You take care of Bobby,
mamma, and I'll show Dan the short cut through our garden."
And she darted ahead through an old-fashioned maze, where tall box hedges
were clipped into queer shapes around beds of gay blooming flowers. Then,
swinging open a vine-wreathed gate, Dan's little guide led into a steep
narrow way paved with cobblestones.
"Pelham cottage is just up there," she said, "at the top of Larboard
Lane."
"And here the boys come now!" exclaimed Dan, as the sound of familiar
voices reached his ear, and down the lane came a laughing, chattering
group,--Minna Foster, and her sister Madge and brother Jack gleefully
escorting Jim and Dud back to the boat, and claiming the promises of
speedy return to Beach Cliff.
Dan hailed his schoolmates, explained his search and his mistake, and they
were all taking their way down the stony path together,--Polly being of
the sort to make friends at once with every nice boy or girl within
reach.
"Isn't she the cutest thing?" said Minna Foster, who had fallen behind
with Dud. "We have just been dying to know them; but her mother is an
invalid, and doesn't go out much, though they are the finest people in
Beach Cliff, mamma says. They have lots of money, and the loveliest old
home filled with all sorts of beautiful things, and horses and carriages
and a big yacht."
"And Dan Dolan has struck it with them," said Dud, watching Miss Polly's
dancing along loyally by her nice boy's side. "Dan Dolan! Can't you give
them a tip about him."
"A tip?" echoed Minna, puzzled.
"Yes," said Dud, his brow darkening. "People like that don't want to know
such low-down chumps as Dan Dolan. Why, he's in St. Andrew's on charity;
hasn't got a decent rag to his back except what we give him there; used to
shine shoes and sell papers on the streets. His aunt is in the poorhouse
or something next to it; he's just a common tough, without a cent to call
his own."
"Goodness!" gasped Miss Minna. "Then what is he doing up here with boys
like you?"
"Pushed in," answered Dud, hotly. "He has enough nerve to push anywhere.
St. Andrew's gives a scholarship at the parochial school, and he won it;
and, as he hadn't any place to go this summer, they bunched him in with
us. But you can see what he is at one look."
"Oh, I did,--I did!" murmured Miss Minna. "I saw at the very first that he
was not our sort; but, being with nice boys like you, I thought he must be
all right. He isn't bad-looking, and such nerve for a bootblack! Just look
how he is making up to little Polly Forester!"
To an impartial observer it would have really seemed the other way. Polly
herself was "making up" most openly to this nicest boy she ever saw.
Tripping along by Dan's side, she was extending a general invitation, in
which Dan was specialized above all others.
"I am going to have a birthday party next week, and I want you to come,
and bring all the other boys from Killykinick. It's the first party I've
ever had; but mamma is feeling better this year, and I'll be ten years
old, and she's going to have things just lovely for me,--music and
dancing, and ice-cream made into flowers and birds, and a Jack Horner pie
with fine presents in it. Wouldn't you like to come, Dan?"
"You bet!" was the ready answer; for a party of young persons like Miss
Polly was, from his outlook, a very simple affair. "When is it coming
off?"
"Thursday," said Polly,--"Thursday evening at six, in our garden. And you
needn't dress up. Boys hate to dress up, I know; Tom and Jack won't go any
place where they have to wear stiff collars."
"I'm with them there," rejoined Dan. "Had to get into one on Commencement
Day, and never want to try another."
"You see, I don't care for some boys," said the expectant hostess,
confidentially. "All Tom's and Jack's friends are in long trousers. Some
girls like that, but I don't: they look too grown up, and they stand
around and tease, and won't play games, and are just horrid. You would
play games, I'm sure."
"Just try me at them," answered Dan, grinning.
"Oh, I know you would! So I want you all to come," said Miss Polly, who,
having reached her own gateway, paused for a general good-bye. "I don't
know your names, but I want you all to come with Dan to my party."
"If we can get here," replied Dan. "Captain Jeb wouldn't trust us to sail
his boat, and I don't know that he could come with us."
"Oh, he will,--he must!" persisted Polly.
"He ain't the will-and-must kind," said Dan, nodding.
"Then maybe I can send for you," the little lady went on eagerly. "My
cousins are coming over from Rock-haven on dad's yacht, and I'll make them
stop at Killykinick and bring you all with them to my party."
And, with a gay little nod that included all her nice boys, little Miss
Polly disappeared among the hydrangeas; while the others kept on down to
the wharf, where the "Sary Ann" was already swinging out her dingy sail,
and Brother Bart was growing anxious and nervous.
Merry good-byes were spoken, and very soon the boys were on their homeward
way, with Beach Cliff vanishing in the distance. There had been no bids to
the Fosters' cottage, which was already filled with grown-up guests. Dud
was sullen and disappointed; lazy Jim a little tired; while Freddy, seated
in the bottom of the boat, dropped his curly head on Brother Bart's knee
and went off to sleep. But to Dan the day had been a most pleasant
experience, a glimpse of a friendly, beautiful world whose gates he had
never thought to pass; and Aunt Winnie's Dan was very happy as he steered
the "Sary Ann" over a smiling summer sea without a clouding shadow.
"How did you push in so quick to the Foresters?" sneered Dud.
"Looking for two lost donkeys," retorted Dan, who was learning to give Dud
as good as he sent.
"Maybe you think you'll get there again," said Dud. "Well you won't, I can
tell you that. It was all very well to make up so strong to a little fool
girl; but they are the tiptoppers of Beach Cliff, and you won't hear any
more of Miss Polly's yacht or her party."
"I'm not worrying over that, are you?" said Dan, philosophically. "You
look as if you had a grouch on about something."
"I have," blurted out Dud fiercely. "I hate this horrid Killykinick and
everything on it; and I'm not going to be mixed up before decent people
with roughs and toughs that are fit only to black my boots--like you, Dan
Dolan!"