Dan stood staring in blank amazement, while Freddy's voice rose into
shriller triumph:
"Jim, Dud, Brother Bart, look,--look what is coming here!"
She was coming indeed, this white-winged stranger, swaying to the right
and left under skilful guidance as she made her way to the Killykinick
wharf; for her rugged old Captain knew the perils of the shore. And under
the gay awnings that shaded the deck was a merry group of young people,
waving their handkerchiefs to the rocky island they were approaching;
while Polly's big handsome "dad," in white linen yachting togs, pointed
out the ship house and the wharf, the tower and garden patch,--all the
improvements that queer old Great-uncle Joe had made on these once barren
rocks. Polly's dad had known about the old captain and his oddities all
his life. Indeed, once in his very early years as he now told his young
listeners, he had made a boyish foray in Great-uncle Joe's domain, and had
been repelled by the old sailor with a vigor never to be forgotten.
"I never had such a scientific thrashing in my life," laughed dad, as if
he rather enjoyed the remembrance. "We were playing pirate that summer. I
had a new boat that we christened the 'Red Rover,' after Cooper's story;
and we rigged her up with a pirate flag, and proceeded to harry the coast
and do all the mischief that naughty twelve-year-olds can do. Finally, I
proposed, as a crowning adventure, a descent upon Killykinick, pulling
down old Joey Kane's masthead and smashing his lantern. Well, we caught a
Tartar there, I can tell you! The old captain never had any use for boys.
And to think of the place being full of them now!"
"Oh, no, dad! There are only four," said Polly,--"four real nice boys from
St. Andrew's College, and just the right size to come to my party. O Nell,
Gracie, look! There they come!"
And the handkerchiefs fluttered again gleefully as "The Polly" made up to
the wharf, and the whole population of Killykinick turned out to greet
her,--even to Brother Bart, who had been reading his well-worn "Imitation"
on the beach; and Neb, who, with the bag of potatoes he had just dug up,
stood staring dumbly in the distance.
"Killykinick ahoy!" shouted dad, making a speaking trumpet of his hands.
"_Aye, aye_!" answered Captain Jeb, with his crooked smile. "You're 'The
Polly' of Beach Cliff. What's wanted, Mr. Forester? Clams or
lobsters?"--for in these latter days Killykinick did something of a trade
in both with the pleasure boats and cottages along the coast.
"Well, we don't like to call them either; do we, Polly?" laughed dad, as
he stepped ashore, while the little girls crowded to the deck rail. "'The
Polly' is sailing under petticoat orders to-day and is scouring the waters
in search of four boys that, we understand, you have here at
Killykinick."
"We have," answered Captain Jeb,--"or at least the Padre here has. They're
none of mine."
"I am no Padre, as I've told ye again and again, Jeroboam," interposed
Brother Bart. "I am only Brother Bartholomew from St. Andrew's College.
And I have four boys here, but they've been under my eye day and night,"
he continued anxiously; "so, in God's name, what are ye after them for,
sir? They have done ye nor yours no harm, I am sure."
"None in the world," said Mr. Forester quickly, as he saw his light speech
was not understood. "I was only joking with Captain Jeb. My mission here,
I assure you, is most friendly. Permit me to introduce myself, Brother
Bar--Bar--Bartholomew--"
"Ye can make it Bart, sir, for short; 'most everyone does," said the good
Brother, nodding.
"Then, Brother Bart, I am Mr. Pemberton Forester, of Beach Cliff. I am
also known by the briefer and pleasanter name of this little lady's 'dad,'
and it is in that official capacity I am here to-day. It seems this little
girl of mine met your boys a few days ago at Beach Cliff, where they
rendered her most valuable service."
"One--it was only one of them, dad!" corrected Miss Polly's silvery voice.
"It was only Dan Dolan who caught my bird and--and--"
"Well, at all events, the acquaintance progressed most pleasantly and
rapidly, as my daughter's acquaintance is apt to progress; and it resulted
in an equally pleasant understanding that the four young gentlemen were to
come to a little festivity we are giving in honor of Polly's birthday,--a
garden party in our grounds, between the hours of six and nine. This is
the occasion of our present visit, Brother Bart. Fearing that travelling
facilities might not be at the young gentlemen's disposal, we have come to
take them to Beach Cliff. If you would like to accompany them--"
"To a party, is it?" exclaimed Brother Bart, in dismay. "Me at a party!
Sure I'd look and feel queer indeed in such a place." Brother Bart's
glance turned from the fine boat to the gentleman before him; he felt the
responsibilities of his position were growing perplexing. "It will be
great sport for the boys, I am sure," he added; "and I don't like to say
'No,' after all yer kindness in coming for them. But how are they to get
back?"
"Oh, we'll see to that!" answered Mr. Forester, cheerfully. "They will be
home and safe in your care, by half-past ten,--I promise you that."
"Hooray!--hooray!" rose the shout, that the boys who had been listening
breathlessly to this discussion could no longer repress.
There was a wild rush to the shining decks of "The Polly," and soon all
her pretty passengers were helped ashore, to scramble and climb as well as
their dainty little feet could over the rocks and steeps of Killykinick,
to wonder at the gardens and flowers blooming in its nooks and crannies,
to peep into cow house and chicken house, and even old Neb's galley,--to
explore the "Lady Jane" from stem to stern in delighted amazement.
Nell and Gracie, who were a little older than their cousin, took
possession of Jim and Dud; their small brother Tad attached himself to
Freddy, who was about his own age; while Polly claimed her own especial
find, Dan, for escort and guide.
"Oh, what a queer, queer place!" she prattled, as, after peering
cautiously into the depths of the Devil's Jaw, they wended their way to
safer slopes, where the rocks were wreathed with hardy vines, and the sea
stretched smiling into the sunlit distance. "Do you like it here, Dan?"
"Yes: I'm having a fine time," was the cheery answer, for the moment all
the pricks and goads forgotten.
"Are you going to stay long?" asked Miss Polly.
"Until September," answered Dan.
"Oh, that's fine!" said his small companion, happily. "Then I'll get dad
to bring me down here to see you again, Dan; and you can come up in your
boat to see me, and we'll be friends,--real true friends. I haven't had a
real true friend," said Miss Polly, perching herself on a ledge of rock,
where, in her pink dress and flower-trimmed hat, she looked like a bright
winged butterfly,--"not since I lost Meg Murray."
"Lost her? Did she die?"
"No," was the soft sighing answer. "It was much worse than that. You see"
(Miss Polly's tone became confidential), "it was last summer, when I had
the whooping cough. Did you ever have the whooping cough?"
"I believe I did," replied Dan, whose memory of such minor ills was by no
means clear.
"Then you know how awful it is. You can't go to school or out to play, or
anywhere. I had to stay in our own garden and grounds by myself, because
all the girls' mothers were afraid of me. The doctor said I must be out of
doors, so I had a play house away down by the high box hedge in the maze;
and took my dolls and things out there, and made the best of it. And then
Meg found me. She was coming down the lane one day, and heard me talking
to my dolls. I had to talk to them because there was no one else. And she
peeped through the hedge and asked if she could come in and see them. I
told her about the whooping cough, but she said she wasn't afraid: that
she had had it three times already, and her mother was dead and wouldn't
mind if she took it again. So she came in, and we played all the morning;
and she came the next day and the next for weeks and weeks. Oh, we did
have the grandest times together! You see, dad was away, and mamma was
sick, and there was no one to bother us. I used to bring out apples and
cookies and chocolate drops, and we had parties under the trees, and we
promised to be real true friends forever. I gave her my pearl ring so she
would always remember. It was that pearl ring that made all the trouble."
And Miss Polly's voice trembled.
"How?" asked Dan very gently. He never had a sister or a girl cousin or
any one to soften his ways or speech; and little Polly's friendly trust
was something altogether new and strangely sweet to him.
"Oh, it broke up everything!" faltered Miss Polly. "That evening an old
woman came to the house and asked to see mamma,--oh, such a dreadful old
woman! She hadn't any bonnet or coat or gloves,--just a red shawl on her
head, and an old patched dress, and a gingham apron. And when James and
Elise and everybody told her mamma was sick, she said she would see her
anyhow. And she did. She pushed her way upstairs to mamma, and talked
awfully,--said she was a poor honest woman, if she did sell apples on the
corner; and she was raising her grandchild honest; and she asked how her
Meg came by that ring, and where she got it. And then mamma, who had
turned pale and fluttery, sent for me; and I had to tell her all, and she
nearly fainted."
"Why?" asked Dan.
"Oh, because--because--I had Meg in the garden and played with her, and
took her for a real true friend. You see, she wasn't a nice little girl at
all," said Miss Polly, impressively. "Her grandmother had an apple stand
at the street corner, and her brother cleaned fish on the wharf, and they
lived in an awful place over a butcher's shop; and mamma said she must not
come into our garden again, and I mustn't play with her or talk to her
ever, ever again."
There was no answer for a moment. Dan was thinking--thinking fast. It
seemed time for him to say something,--to speak up in his own blunt
way,--to put himself in his own honest place. But, with the new charm of
this little lady's flattering fancy on him, Dan's courage failed. He felt
that to acknowledge a bootblack past and a sausage shop future would be a
shock to Miss Polly that would break off friendly relations forever.
"So you gave up your real true friend?" he said a little reproachfully,
and Miss Polly hopped down from her rock perch and proceeded to make her
way back to the yacht.
"Yes, I had to, you see. Even dad, who lets me do anything I please, said
I must remember I was a Forester, and make friends that fitted my name.
And so--so" (Miss Polly looked up, smiling into Dan's face) "I am going to
make friends with you. Dad says he knows all about St. Andrew's College,
and you must be first-class boys if you belong there; and he is glad of a
chance to give you a little fun. There he is calling us now!"--as a deep
voice shouted:
"All aboard, boys and girls! We're off in an hour! All aboard!"
"Dan--Dan," piped Freddy's small voice. "Jim and Dud are dressing for the
party, Dan. Come, we must dress, too."
And Dan, feeling like one venturing into unknown waters, proceeded to make
the best of the things Good Brother Francis had packed in his small shabby
trunk. There was the suit that bore the stamp of the English tailor; there
was a pair of low shoes, that pinched a little in the toes; there was a
spotless shirt and collar outgrown by some mother's darling, and a blue
necktie that was all a necktie should be when, with Freddy's assistance,
it was put properly in place. Really, it was not a bad-looking boy at all
that faced Dan in the "Lady Jane's" swinging mirror when this party
toilette was complete.
"You look fine, Dan!" said his little chum, as they took their way down to
the wharf where "The Polly" was awaiting them,--"so big and
strong--and--and--"
"Tough," said Dan, concluding the sentence with a forced laugh. "Well,
that's what I am, kid,--big and strong and tough."
"Oh, no,--Dan, no!" said Freddy. "You're not tough at all, and you mustn't
say so when you go to a girl's party, Dan."
"Well, I won't," said Dan, as he thought of the violet eyes that would
open in dismay at such a confession. "I'll play the highflier to-night if
I can, kid; though it's a new game with Dan Dolan, I must say."
And, with a queer sense of shamming that he had never felt before, Aunt
Winnie's boy started off for Miss Polly's party.