Polly's "Anne Sisters"
Dr. Dudley's office was without an occupant when Polly peeped in.
The Doctor had not returned from dinner, and David had gone home
for the rest of the day. The little girl wandered about the room,
too full of vague dread to care for books, or even for the fine
collection of sea shells, which usually she never tired of. They
had been brought home from foreign shores by an old uncle of the
physician's, and now, ranged on their wide shelves, they gleamed
out from a farther corner of the office in all the delicate tints
of their wonderful family.
But to-day Polly passed them by with only a sigh, remembering the
happy times that she and David and Leonora had had in their close
company, now playing that they were mermaids, come to tell them
strange tales of the under-seas, now holding them to their ears,
to catch the mysterious, fascinating songs of the ocean which they
were always singing.
"Here already?" broke in the Doctor's pleasant voice. "I don't
believe they gave you much of a dinner."
"Yes, it was good; but I was n't hungry this noon," Polly
replied, with a wan little smile.
"You were in such a hurry to come down and see me that it took
away your appetite--was that it?" he laughed.
"I don't know," was the sober answer.
The Doctor glanced furtively at her face, and grew grave at once.
He squared some books and magazines upon the table, and then sat
down in his lounging-chair, pulling Polly to his knee.
"I want to know more about that Aunt Jane of yours," he began.
"Was you mother her sister, or--"
"Oh, no, she was n't!" Polly interrupted. "Mamma was an only
child, just like me."
"And your father--did he have brothers or sisters?"
"I don't know," she answered slowly.
"He died when I was three years old. I can only just remember
him."
"Do you recollect what Aunt Jane's name was before she married?
Was it May?"
Polly shook her head doubtfully. "I can't seem to think," she
mused. "Oh! I guess it was Carter, 'cause she's always saying
that Maude is clear Carter, just like her folds, and Marcus is all
Simpson, like Uncle Gregory."
"What was you mother's maiden name, her name when she was a
girl?" the Doctor next questioned.
"Phebe Illingworth. Grandma Illingworth was her mother. She
lived with us. She died the year before mamma did."
"Thistledown," went on the Doctor, "some of my questions may
sound rude, but it is important that I know a little more than I
ever have known of your family history. I think you told me that
your mother gave piano lessons."
"Yes, and grandma gave lessons on the violin and guitar, and
singing lessons too."
"And what became of the piano and other musical instruments?"
asked the Doctor quickly.
"I think Aunt Jane sold them. She sold 'most everything. Some
of the furniture she's got now."
"Was it nice furniture?"
"I think it was lovely. There was a beautiful sideboard--that
was grandma's--with carved birds on it, and the wood was light
brown--kind of yellowish--and so pretty!"
"Was that sold?"
Polly nodded sadly.
"Did you mother ever go to the bank, do you remember?"
"Oh, yes, she did! She used to carry a little book."
"Did you always have plenty of money to use--for food and
clothes and so on?"
"I guess so. We had nice things to eat, and pretty things to
wear."
"You never heard of any will, I suppose?"
The curls shook slowly.
"Your mother was not sick long, was she?" the Doctor asked
gently.
"She was never sick. She was giving a music lesson, one
afternoon, and she fainted away--they could n't make her
live." The sorrowful voice softened almost to a whisper, and the
golden head drooped to Dr. Dudley's shoulder.
He touched his lips to the white forehead, and tightened his clasp
of the slender little form.
"I am sorry enough to have to bring all this back," he said;
"but, Thistledown, I must discover a way, if possible, to keep
you from that woman. I want to find out just how much legal right
she has in regard to you. If we could only obtain sufficient
evidence to prove that she is not a proper person to care for you
--"
Polly had suddenly sat up straight, her eyes round with the
startling, beautiful thought.
"Do you mean," she broke in excitedly, "that I should n't have
to go back to Aunt Jane?"
The Doctor bowed. "But--" he began.
"Oh, then I can stay with you!" she burst out. "She is n't
proper, she is n't nice, she is n't--anything!"
"I know, my dear!" smiled the Doctor. "But such things are hard
to prove. I shall keep you, Thistledown, just as long as the law
will let me; but the law must be obeyed, and we can't tell how
things will come out."
"Won't I have to go back to-morrow?" she asked eagerly.
"No, indeed," he assured her. "Were you dreading that? Don't be
afraid, Thistledown! Keep up a stout heart! You shall stay here
for the present anyway." He looked at his watch. "I think I'll
find Jack at home now," he said; and, letting Polly slip to her
feet, he placed her in his chair and crossed over to the
telephone.
Polly listened breathlessly. She knew that "Jack" must mean
only Jack Brewster, a lawyer of the city, who had been a college
classmate of the Doctor's. The two were close friends.
"That you, Jack?" Polly heard. "Yes. I want to see you
professionally, as soon as possible. No," laughing; "but it is
important. Can you come up this evening? All right. Good-bye."
"Jack Brewster will do his best for us," the Doctor said, coming
back. "He says he will be here at seven or a little after. I
think it probably that he will wish to ask you a few questions;
but you won't be afraid of him. He is one of the gentlest men I
ever knew--and the strongest," he added.
"I am not afraid of anybody that is your friend," returned
Polly.
The Doctor smiled. "A very pretty compliment!" he told her; but
she gave his praise scant notice.
"I wonder," she said, "if you would like to see the little book
mama wrote about my Anne sisters."
"You what?" he queried.
"My Anne sisters."
Only his twinkling eyes disclosed his amusement. "Ancestors you
mean, don't you?" he corrected gently.
"Maybe," doubtfully; "but there are lots of Annes in it that are
related to me."
"Where is the book?"
"Right upstairs, in 'Under the Lilacs.' Don't you remember, you
went down to Aunt Jane's, and got some of my books when I was able
to sit up?"
"I recollect," he nodded.
"Well, that was why I sent for this one 'specially, because I
knew it had the little book init, and mamma told me always to keep
it. So I thought I'd better have it with me."
"Run up and get it, child! It may be--" Polly was gone.
It was indeed a very little book that she put in the Doctor's
hand, simply a few sheets of small note paper sewed together.
"It has about the Illingworth family in one part, and about the
May folds in the other," Polly explained; but it is to be doubted
if Dr. Dudley heard her, so eagerly was he scanning those lists of
names. He clutched at one forlorn thread of hope, and as he read,
the feeble thread waxed into a cord of strength.
"Polly--" he began brightly, and then stopped. After all he
could not be sure, and he must not raise happy anticipations only
to see them blasted. His face shaded, and he finished the
sentence quite differently from what he had intended. He went on
gravely, "Did the Simpsons take charge of everything after your
mother went? Was nobody else there?"
"Not to stay, except Mrs. Brooks, who lived downstairs. She was
n't there much. I guess Aunt Jane did n't want her."
"Probably not," remarked the Doctor grimly.
"Is the book any good?" she asked wistfully.
Again he was tempted to tell her, and again he restrained himself.
"I think it will be of use to us," he replied.
"Did you see all the Annes?" she queried. "Are n't there a lot
of them?"
He nodded laughingly. "It is a good name and I have discovered
yours among them."
"Did n't you know it before? It is Marry Anne, after my great-aunt
Mary Anne Illingworth. I don't like it so well as Polly."
"Or Thistledown," he added gaily. His spirits had risen
wonderfully since seeing the little book.
The sudden change had its effect on Polly, and when she went
upstairs it was with something of her accustomed blitheness.
The afternoon passed pleasantly, but after supper the little girl
grew unaccountably nervous. She started at every ring of the
telephone, and gave queer, absent-minded answers to Leonora's
questions. Finally Miss Lucy, comprehending the situation,
proposed a game; but Polly, usually the quickest of the children,
allowed the others to eclipse her, while her ears were strained
for the expected summons. At last, when the message came, she
started downstairs with a fluttering heart, her nerves a-quiver
with irrational fear.
At any other time she would have been pleased at the thought of
meeting Dr. Dudley's friend of whom she had heard so many
delightful things; but now a vague terror possessed her, lest he,
being a part of that awful law,--which to her was only a name
of dread,--might send her directly back to Aunt Jane's.
Polly rarely had a fall, so light and sure of foot was she; but at
the top of the flight she stumbled and came near going headlong.
This, turning her thoughts suddenly into another path, seemed
somewhat to steady her quaking nerves, and when she reached the
office door she was ready to smile a brave, though shy, greeting
to the lawyer.
Jack Brewster was in appearance the opposite of Dr. Dudley. The
physician was tall and broad-shouldered, with no surplus flesh;
yet none would have called him thin. The lawyer was slight almost
as a boy, of fair complexion, with an abundance of wavy brown
hair, and eyes that had a habit of shining as if their owner had
just received a bit of good news. They shone now, as he took one
of Polly's little hands in both his own, and told her how glad he
was to make her acquaintance.
"I have n't any little girl at my house," he went on smilingly,
"but there's a boy who makes things pretty lively. When I
started to come away this evening he hugged my leg, and kept
saying, 'No sir-ee-sir! No sir-ee-sir!' till I finally had to go
back and tell him his usual bedtime story."
"How old is he?" asked Polly, her fears quite forgotten.
"He will be two years, the third of next month. Bob," whirling
around to the Doctor, "why have n't you brought Miss Polly out to
see us? I'm ashamed of you!"
The physician laughed. "I am not very neighborly, I'll admit,"
he returned. "Sick people have crowded out the well ones lately.
I know well folks will keep."
"Then the only way for me to get hold of you is to feign a chill
or a fever or a broken leg--all right! Thank you for the cue!
And now, Miss Polly," he went on cheerily, "I want you hones
opinion of that aunt of yours. Tell me, please, just how she
makes you feel."
"Wh-y," hesitated the surprised little girl, "if I should say
right out, I'm afraid it would n't sound very polite or--"
"Don't think anything about politeness just now, please. Open
your heart frankly, and let me see what is there in regard to her.
Don't be afraid to say exactly what you think. It may help me
very much. I want to be able to look at her through your clear
eyes."
A shadow darkened the fair little face, and pain crept in, and
stayed.
"She seems," Polly began slowly, "like a dreadful dream--you know,
when you wake up all shivery, and are so glad it is n't real.
Only"--with a little catch--"Aunt Jane is real! Sometimes I feel
sick all over when I think about her, and going back there--oh,"
she burst out passionately, "I'd rather die than go back to live
with her! Mr. Brewster, don't make me go! Please don't make me
go!" The words came with a half sob, but she fought the tears
back, and her appealing eyes searched his face for hope.
"My dear child," he exclaimed tenderly, "you must not worry one
bit more about this! You have given me exactly what I want. Now
leave the matter with Dr. Dudley and me. Will you agree to do
this?"
"If I can," she answered softly; "but Aunt Jane is very hard to
forget!"
"I dare say she is," smiled the lawyer; "but I think you can do
it. You know the best way to forget a disagreeable thing?"
No, Polly did not.
"It is to keep thinking of other things, pleasant things, until
the mind is so full of them that there is n't a scrap of room for
whatever is annoying. You try it, and see if I am not right!"
"There are lots of pleasant things to think of," smiled Polly.
"To be sure there are! One is, that Dr. Dudley is going to bring
you out to my house some morning to stay all day."
"Oh," beamed Polly, "that would be nice!" She looked across at
the Doctor.
He nodded happily.
"If he does n't do it," and the lawyer made a comical grimace in
Dr. Dudley's direction, "I'll come after you myself."
Polly gurgled out her little laugh, which sounded as if she had
already begun to follow the lawyer's advice, and she thanked him
very sweetly for his invitation and his promise. Presently she
went upstairs, and Miss Lucy was relieved to see that she appeared
more like her usual self. But she was very quiet, repeating
nothing of what had passed in the office. It had been a hard day,
and Polly was glad when the time came for her to creep into bed.
On Saturday Miss Lucy and her small assistant had a busy morning.
There was scant time to think about Aunt Jane. When she did
appear in Polly's mind, the little girl remembered Mr. Brewster's
counsel, and hastened to perform her task in hand with exceeding
faithfulness, putting on fresh pillows slips with as much care as
if the welfare of the ward depended on their being straight to a
thread. Her efforts were successful, for they pushed away Aunt
Jane. So the forenoon passed, leaving her at dinner time a little
more tired than usual, but free from the worry of the day before.
Soon after the meal Miss Lucy went downstairs. When she came back
Polly was playing Authors with Leonora, Mabel, Frederica, and
Stella. She stopped beside Polly's chair.
"Dr. Dudley wants you," she smiled. "Run right along, and I will
take your place."
Polly went, wondering, but fearing little. Miss Lucy's face was
too radiant to betoken anything unpleasant.
Dr. Dudley held out his arms, and the little girl ran into them.
"Glorious news, Thistledown! It is all settled! 'Aunt Jane' has
no right to you whatever!"
"Oh!" she gasped, and went suddenly white.
The Doctor dropped into a chair, and took her in his lap, letting
her lean against him.
"I'm glad you are going to school next week," he declared. "You
will get out of doors more. I'm not going to have you paling up
in this way every little while. You are in the house too much."
"I'm all right," she argued. "Tell me about it, please!"
"To begin with," he smiled, "these people are no relatives of
yours."
Polly's eyes rounded with amazement.
"And Aunt Jane is n't my aunt at all?"
"Not the least mite of an aunt," he laughed. "It was a hard
thing for her to admit; but she had to do it."
"You have seen her?" queried Polly.
"Mr. Brewster and I were there this forenoon. It seems that she
lived next door to you at the time your father died, and,
according to her own statement, she gave you mother a great deal
of assistance at that time. It is easy to see how she made your
mother feel under obligations to her, and the rest came about as
it naturally might with such a woman. When she saw her chance for
gain she improved it. She has defrauded you out of household
goods and money; but Jack thinks we should hardly make anything by
taking the matter into court. There is nearly two thousand
dollars still to your credit in the bank, and that shall stay
there till you are of age. She was allowed only a certain sum per
week for your support--the rest she could not touch; but she
did what she pleased, it seems, with the money received for
furniture and so on. She has no property that we can get hold of,
except the things which belonged to your mother. Those we can
take, if you will tell me what they are."
"Oh! Can I have mamma's little rosewood work-table! I saw it
there the other day."
The Doctor was busy with pad and pencil.
"The sooner we get them the better, so think hard now, and I'll
note them down."
"There's a good deal of china, and some nice glass dishes, and
the silver spoons and forks--I could tell which they were if I
could see them."
"You are going to pick them out, with Mr. Brewster and me."
"I'm going there?" Polly cried.
Dr. Dudley nodded. "You're not afraid?" He smiled reassuringly.
"Oh, no, not with you!" she replied. "There's two trunks," she
went on, "with some of mamma's clothes in. A good many are worn
out--she wore 'em, and make 'em over for the girls and me.
Then there are all our books, and three or four chairs, and a
lovely clock--oh, and a great pile of mamma's music, with some
pieces that she wrote herself!"
The list was longer than Dr. Dudley had expected. When Polly
could think of nothing more, he called up the lawyer by telephone,
making an appointment to meet him. Shortly afterwards he put
Polly in the auto, and they started for Mrs. Bean's.
On the way the little girl thought of her precious locket.
"We shall get it if we can," the Doctor told her. "Mrs. Bean
appears to be honest about that. She believes the boy has it; but
he professes innocence. I fancy she will keep him out of our way
if possible."
They took the lawyer in at his office, and Polly finished her ride
sitting on his knee.
When Mrs. Bean learned their errand, she turned, then white, and
seemed greatly excited. At first she was inclined to resent their
coming as an intrusion, declaring, "There ain't much belongin' to
the kid anyhow." But, as earlier in the day, she quailed before
Mr. Brewster's firm, quiet speech, and sullenly led the way to the
various articles called for. Finally nothing remained unchecked
on the list except the two trunks.
"I h'ain't got no trunks," the woman bristled. "You've seen my
rooms an' all there is in 'em! Them trunks prob'ly was sold along
with other things."
"Why, Aunt Jane," put in Polly, "they were here just before I
was hurt. I remember, because--"
"Huh!" she cackled. "I was n't here then, an' I guess they
wa'n't!"
"I mean where we lived then," corrected Polly.
"Wal, they ain't here nor there now," she insisted.
"Can't we go up attic?" questioned Polly. "You said, the other
day, there was an attic to--"
"I hain't got nothin' up there," Mrs. Bean broke in, with
flaming face.
"Will you allow us to look through it, please?" The lawyer's
voice was low, but tense.
"There ain't no call for you to go paradin' up there," she
snapped. "Pretty how d' y' do, if you can't take my word for
it!"
"It is an easy matter to be mistaken," Mr. Brewster smiled.
"Have you a key to the apartment? Or is it open?"
Mrs. Bean took time for reply, narrowing her eyes, as if in deep
thought. She was quick to see the loophole of escape which the
lawyer had shown her. Still she hesitated.
"Wal," she muttered finally, "it's barely possible I was
thinkin' o' some other trunks; but I don't b'lieve I was. I do'
know; I'm driven to death. I sh'd think I'd forgit my own name,
slavin' 's I have to! 'T won't do no hurt, I s'pose, for you to go
up an' see."
The trunks were found, as Mr. Brewster had been sure they would
be. He opened both, and he and Polly hastily looked over their
contents. Besides bundles of old letters, photographs, and
numerous little mementoes, there was much of value,--fine table
and bed linen, and silk dress, some exquisite laces, and a little
box of odd pieces of jewelry.
"Oh!" Polly burst out, "I forgot grandma's watch! And mama's
coral pin and her topaz ring!"
"They're downstairs," volunteered Mrs. Bean. "I forgot them,
too!"
After the trunks were locked, and the keys in Mr. Brewster's
pocket, he and the Doctor carried them into the hallway. While
they were busy, there was a clatter of feet on the lower stairs,
and Mrs. Bean slipped hurriedly away.
"I guess the children have come," said Polly.
But when the three reached the apartment below, no young folds
were visible, and the lawyer silently concluded to defer his
attempt with Gregory until another time.
Another later Polly's goods were brought to the hospital, and
Leonora and several other children, who were able to be
downstairs, were given the unbounded delight of seeing them
unloaded.