Produced by Vital Debroey, Phil McLaury, Juliet Sutherland,
Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
PRINCESS POLLY'S GAY WINTER
By AMY BROOKS
AUTHOR OF
"Princess Polly," "Princess Polly's Playmates,"
"Princess Polly at School," "Princess Polly by the Sea,"
"Princess Polly at Play," etc.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I MERRY TIMES PROMISED
II THE SEA NYMPH
III GWEN
IV WHAT HAPPENED AT SCHOOL
V A BREATH OF THE SEA
VI A DELIGHTFUL CALL
VII AUNT JUDITH'S PARTY
VIII GYP'S AMBITION
IX A JOLLY TIME
X A HOLIDAY PARTY
XI UNCLE JOHN MAKES A PROMISE
XII AUNT ROSE'S CALL
CHAPTER I
MERRY TIMES PROMISED
Little Rose Atherton sat on the lower step of the three broad ones
that led down from the piazza, and she wondered if there were, in all
the world, a lovelier spot than Avondale.
"And we live in the finest part of Avondale," she said, continuing her
thoughts aloud. "Tho' wherever Uncle John is, seems better than anywhere
else."
She had spent the bright, happy summer at the shore, and surely Uncle
John's fine residence, "The Cliffs," had been a delightful summer home.
Then Uncle John had one morning told a bit of wonderful news.
"I've something to tell you, my little girl," he said, drawing Rose
to him.
"This is our summer home," he continued, "and a fine summer place it
is, but Rose, little girl, we're to spend the coming Winter at
Avondale."
It had been very exciting!
Before closing "The Cliffs," those treasures that Uncle John held
dearest were carefully packed to be sent to the new home, and then,
in the big, luxurious car, they had motored to Avondale.
"Good-bye," Rose had said, as she looked back toward "The Cliffs," and
then, after throwing a kiss toward the house, she nestled back in the
car, and tried, for the twentieth time, to "guess" how the new home
would look.
It had proved to be more grand, more beautiful than she had dreamed.
"And so near sweet Princess Polly," she said, "just the next house but
one."
She sprang from the low step, and ran down to the sidewalk to see if
Princess Polly was yet in sight. "I think it is a little early," she
said, "for Polly said she'd come over at nine, and it isn't nine yet."
The dainty Angora came down the walk to meet her, her tail like a great
plume, her soft coat as fluffy as thistle down. Proudly she walked as
if she knew her beauty.
"Oh, you darling puss!" cried Rose. "You make this new home seem just
as if we'd always lived here."
"That's right, Miss Rose," said the housekeeper, as she looked from
the window.
"A cat does make a place seem homelike. She's not stared about, nor
acted wild as most cats do. She made herself at home, and seemed at
home the first day the captain brought her to you. Do you remember,
Miss Rose, she sprang from the basket, sat down on the rug, and began
to wash her face?"
"I know she did, and that proves that she's a wonderful cat. She
couldn't act like a common cat. Could you, dear?"
The cat rubbed lovingly against Rose.
"We're going to choose a name for her to-day, and Princess Polly is
coming over to help me. Oh, there she comes now!" Rose ran down the
path to meet Polly, the white cat trotting along after her.
"I wanted to bring Sir Mortimer over to get acquainted with her, but
he's just dear, in all but one thing. He isn't _always_ polite to other
cats, and _sometimes_ he's really horrid, and growls so dreadfully
that you'd think he hadn't any manners," said Polly.
"I guess it's just as well," Rose said, "for we'll be pretty busy
choosing a name."
Polly had written a list of fine names, and together they read them,
the white cat sitting and eagerly watching them for a time, and then
playing on the lawn with a ball that was her own especial toy. At last
after reading the list of imposing names again and again, they decided
that, after all, Beauty best suited the lovely creature.
"To think that you are to live here at Avondale again!" Polly said,
when at last the name had been chosen.
"Yes, and to think that there's only one house between yours and mine!"
said Rose.
"You'll be happier in this handsome house with your Uncle John, than
you ever were when you lived here at Avondale before at the little wee
cottage with your Aunt Judith."
"Oh, yes," Rose said quickly, "because _now_ I know that Aunt Judith
loves me, but _then_, I thought she didn't. With Uncle John,--why every
moment since I've lived at his house, I've known that he loved me."
A moment she sat thinking, then she spoke again.
"When I lived here at Avondale before, I lived _all_ the time at the
cottage, but now I'll live here, with dear Uncle John, and go down to
see Aunt Judith, oh, sometimes."
Then she turned to look at her playmate.
"Polly, _Dear_ Polly!" she cried. "You look more like a princess than
when we first called you 'Princess Polly.' Now, who ever thinks of
calling you Polly Sherwood, your real, _truly_ name?"
"Who cares which they call me, so long as they love me?" cried Polly
with a merry laugh.
They were in the garden at the rear of the house, but between trees
and shrubbery they could see a bit of the avenue.
Something moving attracted their attention.
"Look!" cried Rose. "What's _that_?" Polly did look.
Something like a huge wheel, all spokes and hub, but no tire, was
whirling down the avenue.
"It's Gyp!" said Polly.
"What? _That_?" said Rose.
"Yes, that's Gyp, and he's going down the avenue whirling first on his
hands, then on his feet," Polly said.
"Oh, I wish he wasn't in this town," cried Rose, "because no one ever
can guess what horrid thing he'll do next. And he won't stay over by
the woods where he lives. He keeps coming over to this part of Avondale,
and I wonder someone doesn't stop him."
"Who could stop Gyp?" Polly asked.
And who, indeed, could stop him? He was one of a family that was more
than half Gypsy, and Gyp was, surely, the wildest of the clan.
He _would_ steal, yet so crafty was he that no one ever caught him.
He was full of mischief, and nothing delighted him more than the
assurance that he had really frightened someone.
As he usually felt very gay when he had done some especially annoying
bit of mischief, it was safe to say that he had spent a busy morning
somewhere, and now was turning handsprings to give vent to his hilarious
feelings.
"Oh, what _do_ you s'pose he's been doing?" Polly asked.
"I don't know," Rose said slowly, "but I remember that he always acted
just like that when he'd been _very_ naughty."
"Rob Lindsey said yesterday that somebody ought to watch Gyp, and
whenever he seems to feel gay, just look around the neighborhood, and
learn what he has been doing," said Rose.
"You'd have to watch him all the time, then," Polly replied, "for he
always acts as if he felt full of fun, and mischief."
"Then whoever watched Gyp could do nothing else. He wouldn't have a
minute for--oh look!" Rose sprang up on to a low ledge that the gardener
had left showing because of its natural beauty. Flowers grew at its
base, and the little rock, or ledge, rose just enough to show its crest
above the blossoms. Something bright and fair was racing down the
street, as if pursuing Gyp.
It shouted lustily. "You Gyp! You _mean_ old,--oh, I don't know what!"
"Why, that's Gwen Harcourt!" said Polly, "and she's chasing Gyp!"
Like a small whirlwind composed of muslin, lace, and ribbons, Gwen
tore down the avenue, shouting, and screaming as she ran.
She had snatched a handful of gravel just as she started to chase him,
and she hurled the small, round stones after his flying figure.
Not one of them hit him, and as he ran, he looked over his shoulder
to grin like an imp, as he shouted:
"Oh, what a shot! Ye couldn't hit the side of the house!"
That so maddened Gwen, that she forgot to run, and in the middle of
the street, stood stamping her foot, and shrieking.
Of course Gyp was delighted! If he had not frightened her, he had, at
least, the joy of seeing how angry Gwen could be. He vaulted over a
low wall, and carelessly whistling, went at high speed across the lawn,
toward the river, crossed the bridge, and, as usual, hid in the forest
beyond.
Gwen stood, where he had left her, watching him as he hurried away,
and finally disappeared.
"Horrid thing!" she cried. "How I wish I knew of something I could do
to plague him!"
Gwen was quickly angered, but her anger was never long-lived.
She turned toward home.
"_Let_ him run, if he wants to. Who cares? I don't."
Already she was humming a merry tune.
"I read a story yesterday 'bout a house that had a secret closet in
it. 'Twas a fine story, and I guess I'll tell it to the first girl I
meet," she said.
It happened that Rose and Polly were walking down the avenue, on the
way to Sherwood Hall, just as Gwen Harcourt gave up chasing Gyp.
"Hello!" she cried, "I wondered when you'd come to Avondale to live.
How long have you been here?"
"Two weeks," said Rose.
"Why didn't you let me know? I'd have been over to see you long before
this," Gwen replied.
Polly looked at Rose. She knew that Rose was not at all fond of Gwen,
and wondered what reply she would make.
Rose did not have to answer, for Gwen continued:
"Sit down on this wall, and I'll tell you a story. I'll come over to
your house some day this week, but now listen, while we sit here. It's
a story I read yesterday, 'bout a house that had a secret closet, and
ours has one, do you hear?" She leaned forward and pointed her ringer,
first at Polly, then at Rose.
"_Our_ house has a secret closet. Don't you both wish yours had?"
"Why, Gwen Harcourt! What could we do with secret closets?" said Rose.
"The girl in the story I read was locked into the closet by mistake,
and she couldn't get out!" said Gwen, looking quite as excited as if
she were telling something pleasant. Rose moved uneasily, and Polly
shivered.
"Didn't they _ever_ find her?" Polly asked.
"I guess not," said Gwen, "and the funny thing is that the story stopped
right there, so you see I'll never have any idea whether she ever got
out or not."
"Oh, I like _pleasant_ stories," Rose said, as she slipped from the
wall. In an instant Polly stood beside her, and the two turned toward
home, but Gwen had no idea of losing her audience so soon.
"Wait a minute," she cried, "and I'll tell you 'bout the girl that
fell into the ditch, and had to be pulled out by her hair!"
"Oh, _don't_!" cried Polly, and clapping her hands over her ears, she
turned, and ran at top speed, followed by Rose.
They soon outran Gwen, and were glad to rest.
"Did you ever hear such _horrid_ stories?" Polly asked.
"Never!" cried Rose, "unless it was other stories that she told at
other times. There's the one that she made us listen to when we were
over to Lena Lindsey's one day. The one about the ghost that rode down
the main street every night at twelve."
"Oh, I remember," said Polly. "That was the time that Rob Lindsey said
the shivers ran up and down his spine until his back was all _humps_!
He said the shivers had become _chronic_! We laughed at Rob, but even
the funny things he said couldn't drive away the thoughts of the story
that Gwen Harcourt had told."
* * * * * * * *
The bright, sunny days sped as swiftly at Avondale, as they had at the
shore.
Hints of pleasures that already were being planned for the coming
Winter were floating as freely as if the wind carried them, and all
over Avondale, wherever small girls and boys were at play, one might
hear scraps of conversation that told of anticipated pleasures.
Some of the gossip reached Aunt Judith's cottage, and she resolved to
do a bit of entertaining, if not on the grand scale in which her
neighbors indulged, at least in a manner that her little friends would
enjoy.
She laughed softly as she moved about the tiny rooms, and thought of
the quaint, merry party that would at least be original.
"The cottage is small, and so it will have to be a little party, but
we'll call it 'small and select,'" she said.
A light tap at the door, made her turn, and she hastened to open the
screen door, that Rose might enter.
"The fine house, and fine friends don't make you forget your Aunt
Judith, dear," she said.
"Oh, I'll never forget you," Rose said, "and I'll come to see you now
I'm to live so near. To-day I'll sit beside you while you sew. I'll
sit in the little chair that was always mine."
"It is yours now, dear, and, whenever you come, I'll 'play,' as you
and Polly say, I'll 'play' that you are once more living here at the
cottage."
There was news to be told. Uncle John was to have a fine conservatory
built, and later it would be stocked with beautiful flowering plants.
Lena Lindsey was to give a fine party some time during the Winter, and
Leslie Grafton, and her brother Harry had already hinted that there
would be gaiety at their home.
Mrs. Sherwood always gave some sort of party for Princess Polly, and
surely everyone remembered her beautiful party of the Winter before.
All these things she told Aunt Judith.
"And Uncle John says he will not permit his neighbors to do _all_ the
entertaining, and when he says that he laughs," said Rose.
Aunt Judith stopped rocking and sat very straight.
"And _I_ shall entertain in a small way myself," she said.
"Oh, Aunt Judith!" cried Rose, her surprise making her eyes round, and
bright.
"The wee party that I shall give will be in honor of my little niece,
Rose."
Rose laid her warm hand on Aunt Judith's arm.
"How good you are," she said. "And I'll come over the day of the party,
and help you get ready. I'll love to. 'Twill be half the fun. Oh, Aunt
Judith, please tell me what the dear little party is to be like."
"Like a party that I once enjoyed when I was little," Aunt Judith said.
"I remember it as perfectly as if it had occurred yesterday. To repeat
it now will be a quaint delight. I'll not tell you _all_ about it yet,
but when my plans are made, you shall come over here to the cottage,
and I'll tell you every detail. I believe the tiny party will do me
good. I shall feel once more like the little lass that I was when I
received the invitation, and then a week later, dressed in my best,
went to my friend's house. There were twelve guests, and I shall have
just twelve at _my_ party."