The Kidnapping of Polly
"Mamma and I are going to live with Uncle David." So the boy told
Polly late that afternoon. "He says he has lost time enough, and
now we must come as soon as we can pack up."
"Is n't that splendid!" beamed Polly, thinking she had never
seen David look so happy or so handsome.
"Uncle David is nicer--a great deal nicer--than I dreamed
he could be. O Polly, I can't thank you enough!"
"Thank me?" repeated Polly. "What for?"
"Polly May!" and David gazed at her incredulously. Then he
laughed.
"Oh, you little bunch of unselfishness!" he cried. "I believe
you have n't the least idea that Uncle David's making up with us
is all your doing!"
"Why, David Collins, it is n't! I just told him it would make me
happy if he would--that's all!"
"Just as I said!" he laughed. "O Polly, Polly! Don't you see--
no, no, I'd rather you would n't! Don't try to see!"
"I could n't!" chuckled Polly. "There is n't anything to see!"
"All right! It's grand anyway! Mamma looks so much prettier and
younger! Oh, you can't think how happy--"
The telephone cut off his sentence, and he ran across the office.
He listened a moment; then Polly heard him say, "She is right
here. If you'll wait, please, I'll ask her."
David turned from the instrument. "It is Mrs. Jocelyn," he
explained. "She wants you to come up there to-morrow afternoon,
and stay all night and next day. Her cousin's little girl--
Dorothy Cannon, I think the name is--will be there, and she
wants you too."
"Oh, of course I'll go!" and Polly's eyes shone: "that is, if
Miss Lucy or Dr. Dudley don't need me for anything, and I don't
suppose they will. Tell her I'll come, unless they do. Oh, and,
David,"--for he had taken up the receiver again,--"ask her
what time she wants me, please!"
He gave the message, and then turned back to Polly.
"She says to come as early as you can after dinner. Dear me, it
will be awfully lonesome without you!"
"It will, won't it?" Polly's face sobered. "But then," she
brightened, "you'll have to be home helping your mother pack up,
shan't you?"
"So I shall," he returned. "And it will be a good time for you
to go. Ever hear of this Dorothy before?"
"Oh, yes! Mrs. Jocelyn has told me lots about her. I guess
she's nice. She's twelve."
"You'll have a fine time, and I'll try to be glad you're going,"
laughed David.
Polly danced off to tell Miss Lucy and Leonora of her invitation,
waving a gay good-bye to David from the doorway. She had made
several visits of a day to Mrs. Jocelyn, who had left the hospital
some weeks before; but she had never remained overnight. And to
see the Dorothy Cannon of whom she had heard so many happy things!
She went upstairs on tiptoe of anticipation.
Miss Lucy was please, and Leonora tried to be. Polly saw through
her forced smiles, however, and proposed all the pleasant make-ups
she could think of.
"You can take care of Phebe while I'm gone, and play she's twin
sister to your Juliet" (Leonora had named her doll after its
donor), "and you make take the book Burton Leonard sent me. We
have n't read more than half the stories in it yet."
Leonora was beaming her thanks and her delight, when Miss Lucy
declared that she should depend on her to help entertain the ward,
and that made her look so joyful, Polly knew there would be little
lonesomeness for the lame girl.
When Dr. Dudley heard that Polly was going, he promised to carry
her in his automobile, for it was a long walk to Mrs. Jocelyn's
home.
"Then I shall have you to myself a little longer than the rest of
the," he twinkled.
"Anybody'd think I was n't ever coming back!" laughed Polly.
"Oh, don't say so!" shivered Leonora. "Talk about what you're
going to wear!"
"All right!" Polly agreed. "Miss Lucy and I have got it all
planned. I shall wear my best white dress, if it is as warm as it
is today, and take my white sweater with me, so I'll have it if it
comes off cold. And I'm going to wear my beautiful locket and
chain that Mrs. Leonard gave me, and my newest blue hair ribbon,
and my best ties, and my best hat."
"Dear me," mused Dr. Dudley gravely, "I did n't know I should
have to sit beside so fine a young lady as that! I wonder if I
must put on my dress suit."
Polly giggled, and Leonora squealed, and they were not sobered
down when they bade the Doctor good-night.
"Is n't he nice?" admired the lame girl, as they went slowly
upstairs, hand in hand.
"He's the very nicest man in the whole world!" asserted Polly,
and her nodding curls emphasized her praise.
Dressing came directly after dinner, and Polly had the eager
assistance of every girl in the ward that was able to be about on
two feet.
Angiola Cuneo fetched the pretty black ties, and Mabel Camp the
long stockings. Frederica Schmelzer held the box containing the
hair ribbon of delicate blue while Miss Lucy brushed the fluffy
curls into smoothness. Stella Pope, greatly puffed up by the
importance of her errand, went to Miss Lucy's own room, and
brought back the dainty white frock, all spotless from the
laundry. But Leonora's was the crowning service of all. With
trembling fingers she clasped around Polly's white neck the
exquisite little gold chain, with its pendent locket, which had
been Mrs. Leonard's farewell gift when Burton left the hospital.
"There," she whispered delightedly, patting Polly's shoulder,
"you look too sweet for anything!"
Polly dimpled and blushed, but only said:--
"I wish you were going, too!"
"Oh my!" gasped Leonora; "I should n't know how to act or what
to say! I guess I'd rather stay with Miss Lucy."
The nurse, gathering up some of Polly's tossed-off belongings,
smiled comfortably to herself, overhearing Leonora's words. She
rarely had so much as to hint of reproof to Polly for any breach
of courtesy; the child seemed instinctively to know what was due
to others. She could be trusted anywhere without a fear.
The auto was waiting at the curb, Dr. Dudley and Polly were on
their way from office to entrance, when there came a hurried call
for the Doctor from one of his patients in a private ward.
"That's too bad!" he ejaculated. "I wish she had put off her
attack an hour. Now you'll have to walk--or wait, and it is
uncertain how soon I shall be at liberty."
"Oh, I don't mind walking!" smiled Polly.
"Well, here's for a good time, Thistledown!" And the Doctor
kissed her on both cheeks.
She watched him up the stairs, and then went out alone.
"I wish I could have had the ride with him," she sighed, as she
passed the inviting auto; "but it's a lovely day for a walk,"
she added. "I shall be there before I know it."
She waved her hand to Miss Lucy and the children, up at the
window, who looked astonished to see her walking. Laughing at
their surprise, she flourished her sweater and the little bundle
containing her nightgown. Then shrubbery hid them from view. As
she went by Colonel Gresham's, she wondered how soon David would
be living there. Today he was at home, helping his mother, as she
had predicted he might be.
A full third of the distance was passed, when, turning a corner,
she met a tall woman in a brown skirt and white waist.
"Wh--", she gasped; "Aunt Jane!"
The woman gave a short laugh.
"You did n't expect to see mi; did you? Where you bound for, all
rigged out so fine?"
"I'm going to Mrs. Jocelyn's," Polly answered faintly.
"What! That rich Mrs. Jocelyn?"
"I guess so."
"Where does she live?"
"Up on Edgewood Avenue."
"Yes, that's the one," nodded the other. "You are comin' on! I
s'pose you don't go to see anybody but millionaires now'days! You
hain't been down to my house in an age."
"Mrs. Jocelyn was at the hospital," Polly explained, "and she's
invited me up to stay all night, because her cousin's coming."
"Well, I was on my way to see you and take you home with me.
Glad you happened along, for it will save my climbin' that hill.
Here I am slavin' myself to death, and you're kitin' off hither
and yon just to have a good time. I thought you was goin' to help
'em out at the hospital."
"I do help all I can," Polly put in meekly.
"Looks like it! Well, come on! I've got a pile o' work waitin'
for me at home. Much as ever I could get away anyhow."
Polly stepped forward, and the two walked along together.
"I thought you'd come over and see you new uncle, even if you did
n't care anything about me and your cousins."
"My new uncle?" repeated Polly, looking puzzled.
The woman laughed. "Did n't you hear I'd got married again?" she
asked.
"Why, no!" cried Polly.
"I was married three weeks ago to-day," was the proud
announcement. "He's got a good job at the Silver Plate, and I'm
takin' work from the button fact'ry; so we're gittin' on. We've
moved over on Chestnut Street--got a flat now. The kids think
it's fine."
"I'm glad, Aunt Jane," Polly managed to say, just as she reached
the street which led out in the direction of Edgewood Avenue. "I
have to go this way." She stepped back to allow her aunt to pass
on.
"Well, I guess not much!" and the child's arm was gripped by a
strong hand. "You're goin' home with me--that's what!"
"Oh, not to-day!" cried Polly, in a sudden terror. "I can't,
Aunt Jane! I've promised to go up to Mrs. Jocelyn's!"
"That don't make any difference! You can go up there some other
time--or you can stay away, just as I choose to have you! Now,
you need n't go to cryin' and makin' a fuss!" for Polly's lip was
quivering. "I guess you know me well enough to know that when I
set out to do a thing I do it, and this afternoon I said I was
goin' to fetch you home, and I expect to keep my word."
A wild thought of flight swept through Polly's mind; but she at
once realized how futile would be an attempt to run away. Her arm
was still held as in a vise, and she was being led along an
unfamiliar street. Aunt Jane nodded now and then to people they
met, and could quickly call any number to her assistance. Polly
decided that this was no time for escape.
"Where'd you get that locket and chain?" her captor queried.
"They were a present from Mrs. Leonard."
"What Mis' Leonard?"
"I don't know, Her little boy was sick at the hospital, and I
sung--"
"Oh, that one! Mis' Marvin Leonard it is. Well, they'd ought to
given you some money, too--they've got enough. I read in the
paper about your singin'--and faintin' away."
"In the newspaper?" Polly's face showed her astonishment.
"Sure! Did n't you know it? I should think some o' them doctors
or nurses might have let you see the piece. And they'd ought to
had your picture taken to go along with it."
"Oh, no!" breathed Polly shrinkingly.
"Huh! You're a great kid! Folks round here thought it was a
pretty smart thing. You hain't no call to be ashamed of it."
The little girl attempted no reply. She felt that Aunt Jane would
not understand.
Arrived on the fourth floor of the big tenement house, Polly was
at once called upon to praise the new quarters.
"Ain't this more swell than that old-fashioned rent on Brewery
Street?"
"Yes, I guess it is," was the rather doubtful response, for
Poly, in her swift survey of the narrow, gaudy parlor, discerned
little to admire.
"I s'pose it ain't much compared to the elegance of your
millionaire friends, Aunt Jane flung out, nettled at the child's
lack of approval.
"Mrs. Jocelyn' furniture is very plain--if you mean her,"
replied Polly gently.
"Well, come in here and put your things," leading the way to a
little dim bedroom, lighted only from the apartment in front.
"Better take off that white dress, and keep it clean; I'll get
you one of Sophia's to wear till I can send for your clothes."
Slowly and sadly Polly laid aside her hat, and began to unbutton
her dainty frock. Tears welled up in her eyes, at thoughts of
Miss Lucy; but with a mighty effort she winked them back.
"There!--try that, and see how it fits."
Aunt Jane had emerged from the depths of a dark closet, and now
tossed a limp calico print towards Polly.
The child could discern soiled patches on front and sleeves, and
she revolted against the unclean garment; but silently she put it
on.
"Well, that ain't so bad!" approved Aunt Jane. "Sophia's a whole
year younger than you; but she takes a bigger waist. Stand out
there--my, but it's short! Never mind! Here's a petticoat to
go with it."
Polly looked down in dismay. She had thought she might perhaps
steal away to the hospital, just to let the Doctor and Miss Lucy
know where she was; but she could never brave the street in such a
skirt.
"Now I'll go to sewin' buttons, and you can do up the dinner
dishes. I left 'em, thinkin' you'd be here. This is the way to
the kitchen." And presently Polly found herself in a little
stuffy box of a room, with a tableful of greasy dishes before her.
"Where are the children?" she ventured.
"At school, of course,--where you ought to be. Marcus and
'Melie I left at Mis' Cobbe's. That Marcus is a terror! I shall
be thankful when he goes to school. Why did n't they send you
this fall? You'll be 'way back in your books."
"Dr. Dudley has made arrangements for me to go to a school near
the hospital; it does n't begin till next week."
"Oh, a private school! My, if they ain't puttin' the airs on to
you!"
"It's near. That's why--"
"Huh! Well, 't ain't near here. I guess you can git along with
the one my kids go to."
Polly did not reply. Experience had taught her to be sparing of
words with Aunt Jane. She was still toiling with the heavy
crockery, when a rush of feet in the hallway announced that school
was out.
The door banged wide.
"Hoh! You've got back, have you?"
"Hullo, Poll!"
"Say, what you wearin' my dress for?"
"Oh, you've got on a gold locket! Le' me see it!" Katie's
fingers began pulling at the clasp.
"Oh, don't, please!" cried Polly. "I'll unfasten it for you as
soon as I get the dishes done."
"I want to see it now! Mamma, shan't Polly take off her locket,
and let me see it?"
"Polly, why can't you try to please you cousin, and not be so
stingy with your things?"
"My hands are soapy," she apologized, "and--"
"Well, don't you know enough to wipe them?" snapped Aunt Jane.
"You seem to have grown very helpless."
"Say, what are these blue stones in here?" queried Katie,
turning the locket curiously.
"Turquoises," Polly answered, eyeing with fear Katie's rough
handling.
"Whose picture is this?" was the next question. "Stop, you
Gregory--you'll break it! Mamma, shant' he stop pulling it
so?"
"Yes, Gregory, you just wait, like a good boy, till your sister's
seen it; then you can take it."
Polly trembled. Her beautiful locket and chain in Gregory's dirty
fingers!
"You have n't told me who this is," complained Katie.
"Burton Leonard."
"It's the kid she sung to," added the mother; "the one the paper
told about."
"Oh!" cried Katie. "What big eyes he's got!" And she snapped
the locket together.
"Now it's my turn!" asserted Maude, snatching the pretty thing
from her sister's hand.
Gregory burst into a wail.
"Yer said I could have it next!" he lamented.
"Let him take it!" urged the mother. But Maude only clasped the
chain about her own neck, and danced off to the looking-glass over
the sink.
"Yer mean old thing!" screamed Gregory.
"Come get it, Greg!" Sophia darted towards her sister.
"When yer do, let me know!" jeered Maude, eluding their
outstretched hands, and putting a chair between them and herself.
A short skirmish was followed by a chase around the room, until
their mother interposed.
"Gracious me! What a hubbub! Maude Simpson, bring that locket to
me this minute!"
"It was n't my fault at all!" whimpered Maude, taking off the
chain and dropping it in her mother's lap.
"There's never no peace when you kids are in the house!"
grumbled the woman, tossing aside her work, and disappearing in
the next room.
"What yer done with it?" whined Gregory, as she came back with
empty hands.
"I've put it where you won't find it in a hurry," she answered
tartly. "Now hustle outdoors, the whole of you, and don't show
your heads in here again till supper time!"
Polly drew a breath of relief, as the last Simpson vanished. She
had forgotten how turbulent the children were.
When the dishes were out of the way began Polly's first lesson in
sewing buttons to cards, and to Aunt Jane's delight she could soon
do the work quickly and well.
"You'll be quite a help," was the commendation that brought a
little solace to her sore heart. "Thank goodness, you're quieter
than my own kids!"
So passed the afternoon, until came supper and the new uncle.
Polly had been helping set the table, when the door opened, and a
little, thin-featured man stepped softly in.
"Polly May, I'll make you acquainted with your Uncle 'Rastus,
'Rastus Bean," called Aunt Jane from the cupboard that served for
china closet and pantry.
"How do you do, my dear? How do you do?" smiled Mr. Erastus
Bean, holding out his hand. "I'm very glad to see you."
Polly's little fingers had barely touched the strong, wiry ones,
when Mrs. Bean's rasping voice broke in.
"Come along and wash up, 'Rastus! The water's good and hot."
Polly's hand was dropped, as if it had been of the temperature of
the water.
"Yis, I'm comin' Jane! I'm comin' fas' 's I can!" The little
man hurried across to the sink.
The children tumbled in, Gregory sprawling across the threshold
and knocking Katie against a chair.
"Why don't yer ever look where you goin'?" fretted Sophia.
"He's always runnin' over me!" wailed Katie.
"Say, where's Marcus and 'Melie?" demanded Maude.
"Over to Mis' Cobbe's, where I hope they'll stay till after
supper," answered their mother. "Her kids have been here enough,
and I guess she can 'tend to mine for one meal."
"I can't go after 'em, 'cause I got to study my spellin',"
announced Sophia.
"Nobody asked yer to," retorted Mrs. Bean. "They'd ought to know
enough to come home alone."
The meal progressed to the accompaniment of jarring speech, and
Polly was glad when it was over.
"Mamma, can we go up on the roof?" asked Katie. "The other folks
are up there, and we'll keep away from the edge."
"I don't care; but, remember, the first one that goes near that
rail gets a whippin'!"
The door slammed behind Maude, and Polly began to clear the table.
She was taking up her old tasks as naturally as if she had never
been free from them.
"Guess I'll go up myself for a few minutes," mused Mrs. Bean.
"'Rastus, you go fetch Marcus and 'Melie home! Marcus 'u'd have
a fit if we went up on the roof without him. And, Polly, you can
put 'Melie to bed, and do up the dishes, and then come on up, if
you want to. 'Rastus!"
The little man halted in the doorway.
"What, Jane?"
"Split up some kindlin's when you git back, and you may as well
fix the fire for mornin'--it must be about out now."
The dishes were nearly washed when the children were brought in;
and the boy had departed for the roof, and his small sister was in
bed, by the time the new uncle had finished his chores.
"I'll put them plates up in the cupboard," volunteered the
little man. "Set ri' down and rest."
But Polly helped, until the last dish was in place and the pan
hung up on its mail. Then she dropped wearily into a chair.
"That Maude ought to have wiped 'em for yer," he sympathized.
"But them kids!" He wagged his head soberly. "I'd ruther stan'
at the bench, down to the shop, all day long, than be round with
such actin' mortals. Jane, she can manage 'em if she sets out;
but 'most gen'ally she don't set out. Wisht I could do somethin'
for yer," we proffered. "Ye're all tuckered out!"
"Oh, I'm just a little tired--that's all!" smiled Polly. "You
are ever so good! I wanted to go up to the hospital, and tell
them where I am--they don't know, and I'm afraid they'll worry!
But I guess I can't to-night," she ended sadly.
"Why, I can run up there for yer, jus' 's well 's not," he
nodded.
"Oh! Will you?" she brightened. "I'll be so glad! But won't it
be too much trouble?"
"Not a bit!" he returned glibly. Then his pinched face shaded.
"If I can git back before she comes down," he hesitated,
wavering between kindness and fear. "I guess I can," he
decided, and put on this hat.
"If Dr. Dudley is n't there," Polly told him, "please ask for
Miss Lucy Price. She'll do just as well. She's the nurse in our
ward."
"I'll do it up all straight," he exulted, stepping briskly with
the importance of his errand. But as his hand touched the knob,
another's was before it. His wife opened the door.
"Where you goin', 'Rastus Bean?" she demanded.
"I--I was just goin' out for a little walk," he faltered.
"A walk!" she snapped. "If you've got your chores done, you'd
better walk into bed!"
Without a word he disappeared in an adjoining room, while his wife
lifted the stove cover, to see if his tasks had been faithfully
performed.
Polly's forlorn hope vanished with the little man; but no tears
came until she was on her pillow, shut from all eyes. Then they
gushed forth in a flood.