A warning From Aunt Jane
Towards noon came a telephone call for Polly to go down to Dr.
Dudley's office. Usually she sped gladly to obey such a summons;
now she was assailed by a sudden fear.
"Have I made her very much worse?" was her instant inquiry, as
the Doctor opened his door?
"Made whom worse?" he questioned.
"Why, Mrs. Jocelyn!"
"I have heard nothing from her. What is it?"
Polly told of her visit and of the reading.
"Is that all!" the Doctor laughed. "Don't worry about it any
more, little girl! Your stories are not the kind that harm
people. What did you read? One that I know?"
"I don't think so," Polly replied. "I did n't tell you about
Prince Benito, did I?"
The physician shook his head. "Suppose you tell it to me now,"
he suggested.
So, perched comfortably upon the arm of his chair, Polly related
the story of "The Wonderful White Flower."
"I see," he mused, as Polly stopped speaking. He was silent a
moment. Then he went on.
"Mrs. Jocelyn lost her only child, a beautiful little boy, when
he was eight years old. It is not unlikely that this story
awakened tender memories."
"I'm sorry I made her feel bad," grieved Polly.
"I would n't be if I were you."
A "Why!" of wonder was rounding Polly's lips, as the physician
continued:--
"Perhaps you have done Mrs. Jocelyn more good than you will ever
know. Since her husband and little boy died she has shut people
out of her life, seldom leaving her home, and rarely entertaining
a guest. From what she has said to me I judge that she has
allowed herself to brood over her sorrows till she has become
bitter and melancholy. Let's hope that your little story will
open her eyes."
"Does she live all alone when she is home?" queried Polly.
"Alone with her servants."
"Oh, then she is n't poor! I thought she must be."
Dr. Dudley smilingly shook his head. "She has more money than
probably you or I will ever handle, little girl; but we'll have
better riches than gold, won't we?"
"Yes; you'll make people well, and I'll try to make them happy,"
returned Polly, a sweet seriousness on her usually merry face. "I
wish I could make everybody in the world happy," she added.
"That is too big a job for one little Thistledown," laughed Dr.
Dudley. "There!" he exclaimed, "I nearly forgot what I called
you down for! Colonel Gresham hailed me out here, and asked if
you could go to Forest Park, this afternoon, with him and Lone
Star. I said yes. Was that all right?
"Of course!" beamed Polly. "Is n't it lovely of him to ask me?
Had I better tell him that David is better?"
"Not unless he inquires," the Doctor answered. "He said he would
be here at three o'clock. You can come down a little before that,
and keep a lookout for him, so as not to make him wait."
Polly was on hand, in the Doctor's office, while it still lacked
fifteen minutes of the hour; but the Colonel was early, and the
waiting time was short. Very sweet she looked, as she ran down
the stone walk to the street, in her dainty new white dress with
simple ruffles edging neck and sleeves. In the delight of the
moment Polly did not forget the children up an the ward windows,
but waved them a gay good-bye, while Colonel Gresham greeted the
bobbing heads with a graceful swing of his straw hat.
There was not much talk at first, for the way to the park lay
through the heart of the city; but Polly was content silently to
watch the changing throngs around them.
Suddenly the Colonel drew up his horse in response to call from
the sidewalk, and presently was in a business talk with the man
who arrested him.
"I shall have to leave you for a moment," he said, at length,
turning to Polly. "I'll be back shortly." And, having fastened
Lone Star, he disappeared up a stairway.
Polly was enjoying this little break, when she caught sight of a
well-known face. "It's Aunt Jane!" she murmured, and was
promptly seized with a desire to hide. Breathlessly she watched
the woman in the black dress, hoping for escape from those ferret
eyes; but the horse and carriage were conspicuous, and Aunt Jane's
glance fell first on Lone Star and then passed to the little girl
upon the seat.
"Polly May!" she exclaimed, and Polly smiled a somewhat
uncertain greeting.
"How in the world did you come here?" twanged the remembered
voice.
"Colonel Gresham is taking me to ride," was the explanation,
"and he's gone upstairs a minute."
"Colonel Gresham! Goodness gracious me! Well, you are coming up
in the world! Why hain't you been round to see me?"
"I'm--pretty busy," answered Polly, "I--"
"Busy! Huh, you must be! Well, so'm I busy, or I should 'a'
been up after you before this. Guess you've stayed at that
hospital 'bout long enough. You might 's well be helpin' me as
gallivantin' round with Tom, Dick, and Harry."
"I--thought I was going to stay all summer," faltered Polly.
"I did n't make no special agreement, and now there's cannin' and
picklin' and what-not to do, I could keep you out o' mischief
easy. Where'd you get that dress?"
"Miss Lucy bought it for me."
"She did, hey? Well, 't ain't hurt with trimmin', is it?"
The Colonel appearing at the moment, Aunt Jane made a rather
hurried departure, while she assured Polly that she would "be
round before long."
"Who is that woman?" inquired Colonel Gresham.
"My Aunt Jane," was the soft answer.
"What's her other name?"
"Mrs. Simpson. Uncle Gregory--that was her husband--was
killed when the building fell, and I was hurt."
"Oh, yes! I recollect. Well, is Aunt Jane good to you? Do you
love her very much?"
Polly waived the first question, and proceeded to the second.
"I'm afraid I don't love her at all," she replied honestly. "Of
course, I ought to; but I don't."
"It is mighty hard to love some folks," meditated the Colonel. "I
think I should rather do a season's ploughing than to attempt to
love that Aunt Jane."
Polly smiled, and then returned to the question she had left
behind. "I guess she's pretty good to me," she said. "She never
whipped me."
"Whipped you!" the Colonel exclaimed. "I should hope not!"
"Aunts do whip sometimes," Polly nodded soberly. "Bessie
Jackson's aunt whipped her--awful! I'd run away!"
"Yes," the Colonel agreed, "that would be the best thing in such
a case--though perhaps this Bessie deserved the whipping."
"No, she did n't!" Polly assured him.
"Well, now, I'll tell you," he went on confidentially, "if
anybody ever lays a finger on you, just you come to my house, and
I'll see that you are treated all right. Remember that now!"
Polly chuckled a "thank you," and Colonel Gresham began talking
about the park, the entrance of which they were nearing.
Polly tried to put Aunt Jane from her mind; but the threatened
possibilities kept thrusting themselves into the Colonel's merry
speeches, until she scarcely comprehended what he was saying.
Little by little, however, the beauties of her surroundings
overpowered all else, and Aunt Jane was for the time almost
forgotten.
The wise men who had planned Forest Park had known better than to
try to improve on nature's handiwork, and rocks and ravines,
brooks and pools, wooded slopes and ferny tangles, were left
practically unchanged. Polly loved birds and flowers and all the
scents and sounds of summer fields and woods, and now, as the air
came laden with faint perfume, and a carol burst into the
stillness, she clasped her little hands together with a soft
breath of delight.
Colonel Gresham watcher her in furtive silence. Finally she
turned towards him.
"I should think it would make sick people well to come out, here
should n't you?"
"Some of them," he nodded.
"I'm going to tell Mrs. Jocelyn all about it. Perhaps it would
make her happier if she's come."
"What Mrs. Jocelyn is that?" asked the Colonel.
"I don't know her other name. The one that's at the hospital--
she's small, and has white hair. Her husband and little boy
died."
"Oh, yes! Juliet Jocelyn, probably; but I did n't know that she
was sick."
"She's had an operation, I think; but she's getting well now.
I've been to see her twice. Yesterday I read her a story."
"I hope she appreciated it," observed the Colonel dryly.
"I'm not sure," Polly replied; "she did n't say. Do you know
Mrs. Jocelyn?"
"I knew her a long time ago," was the grave answer, as he turned
his horse into the road that wound up the eastern side of the
mountain.
"Oh, you're going to take the Cliff Drive!" cried Polly
delightedly. "Dr. Dudley could n't go, because they won't let
autos up there."
"No, for one might meet a skittish horse. I like to come up here
once in a while for the view."
"I'm not going to look till we get clear up," Polly declared.
And resolutely she kept her eyes the other way.
"Now!" announced Colonel Gresham.
Polly turned her head--and held her breath. Then she let it
out in one long sigh of rapture.
Before them lay the city, glittering in the afternoon sunshine,
while beyond, to the north and east and south, green hills formed
a living frame for the picture.
"It is worth coming for," said the Colonel, at last. "There is
your home--see?"
"Oh, yes! It looks like a castle in a forest."
And then--when joy was uppermost--Aunt Jane's threat crowded
in.
Polly's eyes wandered from the "castle" in the direction of the
home she dreaded.
Colonel Gresham noted the sudden shadow on the bright face, and
took up the reins.
On the way back they stopped at a confectioner's, and the Colonel
brought out a package and laid it on Polly's lap. "There is
something to remember the drive by," he said.
"Oh, thank you!" she beamed. "But I don't need anything more to
make me remember it," she added. "It has been beautiful--right
straight through!--Except Aunt Jane!" she put in honestly, under
her breath, and again her face was shadowed.
"It is the best way," observed the Colonel, "to let disagreeable
things slip off our shoulders at once. If we should carry them
all, we should have a sorry load."
"I guess I'll do that way," smiled Polly; "but Aunt Jane don't
slip easy!"
"Shake her off," laughed the Colonel, "and she'll go!"
It was a happy moment up in the ward when Polly opened her box of
candy. Such chocolates, such candied cherries and strawberries,
with tiny tongs to lift them with, the children had never seen.
They chose one apiece all round, which Miss Lucy said was enough
for that day, and Polly carried the box down to the Doctor's
office, that he might taste her sweets. It never occurred to her
that she was entitled to more than the others.
Dr. Dudley heard all about the drive, but nothing of Aunt Jane.
Polly had decided to take the Colonel's advice--if she could,
and she recollected with relief that Aunt Jane was always more
ready to threaten than to perform.
A few days afterwards Dr. Dudley early for Polly.
"Anyway it is n't Aunt Jane at this time," she assured herself,
as she ran downstairs.
"Mrs. Jocelyn wants to see you right away," the Doctor told her.
"She does?" wondered Polly. "Do you know for what?"
"I don't _know_ anything," he smiled; "but I _guess_ a good
deal."
"Oh! What do you guess it is?" she entreated.
He shook his head laughingly. "I should hate to have you discover
that I was n't a good guesser," he said. "Run along, and find
out for sure!"
Polly was astonished to see how greatly the little lady had
changed. Her cheeks reflected the delicate pink of the robe she
was wearing, and her eyes were glad. Her voice was full of
eagerness.
"Here comes the little sunbeam!" she smiled. "Did I interrupt
any tasks or play?" She drew Polly within the circle of her arm.
"I could n't wait another moment to thank you for reading me that
story of the little price. It brought back my own little Lloyd,
who was always planting those seeds of love wherever he went. But
since he left me I have been like that forgetful queen mother, too
wrapped up in myself to think of others. Now I am going to begin
to grow those 'wonderful white flowers.'" Her eyes shone through
tears.
Polly did not know what to say; she only looked her sympathy and
appreciation.
"Tell me about David," the little lady went on. "Is he well
enough to come downstairs?"
"Yes, he's all ready," was the reply; "but he's go to wait for
somebody to go. Elsie was to leave to-day to to-morrow; but she
needs a little more treatment, Dr. Dudley says. So I don't know
when David can come."
"I know!" responded Mrs. Jocelyn confidently. "He is coming down
to the convalescent ward--let me see, I think it may be this
afternoon, but to-morrow morning sure!"
"Wh-y! how can he?" gasped Polly. "There are three ahead of
him, and there are n't any more beds!"
"There will be before long," chuckled the little lady gaily. "I
have been having a bit of a talk with Dr. Dudley, and he tells me
that there is plenty of room in your ward for six or more cots--
and Polly May is going to buy them! That is, she can if she
chooses."
Polly's face was one big interrogation point. "Why! I don't--"
she began, but was interrupted by a kiss right on her lips.
"Oh, you dear, precious little innocent!" cried Mrs. Jocelyn.
"Read that, and see if it will tell you anything!" She took a
strip of paper from the table, and put it into Polly's hand.
Across the top, in large letters, was the name of a back. The
rest was partly printed and partly written. Polly read
wonderingly:--
Pay to the order of Polly May Three Hundred Dollars.
Juliet P. Jocelyn.
"O-o-h!" and Polly's face was beautiful in its joy; "does this
mean that you're going to give me three hundred dollars to buy
some new cots with?"
"It means that the money is your own to use exactly as you
please." The little lady was scarcely less excited than the
child. Giving was to her almost an untried pleasure.
"Oh, I can't, I can't, I can't thank you enough! It is so
lovelicious!" Then Polly threw her arms around the happy donor in
a way that would have made her cry out with actual pain if she had
not been too delighted to realize it.
"I think that will cover the cost of six or seven cots, equipped
for use," said Mrs. Jocelyn,--"that is, if you wish to spend
the money for them." The gray eyes actually twinkled.
"Why, of course I do!" cried Polly. "What else could I do with
it?"
"_You_ could n't, you blessed child! So we'll have David
downstairs just as soon as his bed is ready, won't we?"
"Yes, and how glad he'll be! Oh, how glad he'll be! And Brida
and Elsie--they've been dreadfully afraid they'd have to go
home before he came down; they want to see him so! Won't they be
pleased!"
"I want to see David, too," declared the little lady, "and he
must come down with you as soon as his is strong enough--unless
I get well first," she laughed. "I feel almost well now."
Polly beamed her delight, and presently was racing upstairs to
tell her good news to everybody.
Dr. Dudley managed to get away before noon for the pleasant errand
of purchasing the beds, and Polly was overflowing with bliss. She
had her choice in everything, with the Doctor and the merchant as
advisers; and although the bill footed up to a little more than
the check, the difference was struck off, and the cots and bedding
promised to be at the hospital by two o'clock that afternoon.
The convalescent ward was in such an ecstasy of excitement that
dinner went poorly; but finally it was cleared away, and the cots
moved to make room for those were coming. Everybody helped that
could walk--even those that had to hobble on crutches, for
there were many little things to do, and only a short time to do
them in. Polly was Miss Lucy's ready right hand, with always a
flock of eager assistants. When the beds were actually in place
and the men had gone away, came the delightful task of spreading
on the sheets and blankets and pretty coverlets. All was in
readiness before the hour specified, and then there was nothing to
do but wait for the coming of the new patients.
At last there were footsteps on the stairs, uneven footsteps, as
of one bearing a burden--the children had started! David was
the last, and Polly had begun to be troubled, lest, after all,
something might have delayed him until another day. But there he
was, smiling to her, and waving a thin little hand in greeting.
Polly wished that Mrs. Jocelyn could be there to see it all. When
David was finally in bed, with Polly by his side, he said:--
"Now, tell me all about it, please! It was such a splendid
surprise!"
So Polly told just how it had happened, and talked and kept on
talking, until she suddenly discovered that David was looking a
little weary--though he insisted that he was not tired. But in
her motherly way, that was the delight of the ward, she bade him
shut his eyes and "go right to sleep," giving his hand a final
caressing pat, and then running away to let him have a chance to
follow her injunction.