DAVID MAKES A REQUEST
The next morning Polly was at the door as usual when the letter-carrier
came. She could not have told why. Certainly she did not expect a
letter.
Mechanically she received the bunch of mail, mechanically she threw
off the envelopes and papers, one by one, on the hall table. Then she
stared. There was the familiar handwriting! The rest of the lot was
dropped in an unsorted pile, and upstairs she sped with the letter from
David. She locked her door and flew to the window-seat. This time she
did not pause to note the lines of the superscription. She tore open
the envelope with eager fingers.
MY DARLING POLLY: I suppose before this you have
received that horrible letter that I wrote you when I was
grass-green with jealousy. Throw it in the fire right now! Don’t,
don’t ever read it again! I was an outrageous cad to write it,
anyhow. But when Marietta and Doris came up here with that
story, I was just beside myself. I dare say Doris put in plenty
of touches of her own. Do write that you are not angry with me!
Write the very next mail! It is unbelievable that I could send
you such a thing--
Just my luck! The mail-boy is here, and not another chance to
send to the office to-day! A longer letter to-morrow.
Always your own DAVID
Polly read it over with a smile. Again, and the smile changed to a
sigh. Once more, and sorrow came into her eyes.
How like David! Mad with jealousy one day, and wild with penitence the
next! Why must it be so? Why couldn’t he trust her?
She drew a chair to her desk and made ready to write. Then she took out
the letter of yesterday and looked it over; she read again the one just
received; finally she dipped her pen in ink.
She wrote fast until she had filled a sheet. Pausing to read it
through, she crushed it in her hand, tossed it into the waste-basket,
and began another.
That went the way of the first, and a third was written. This appeared
to bring more satisfaction, for she read it a second time.
DEAR DAVID: Your two letters have made me take a long
look ahead, and in view of what I see there I have come to a
decision. There is no use in our going on as we have been going
for four or five years. I cannot bear it. I must live my life in
my own way--I must be free, I must be myself.
You would put me in fetters of your own making. Instead of
trusting me out in the world, you would keep me away from the
world. In fact, you would make me a prim, silent, cold somebody
else, whom in time you would cease to love because I should not
be worth loving.
You do not trust me, no matter what I say. You know that I care
for you more than for anybody else. Many times I have told you
so; still, reiteration does no good, for you will not believe. I
see no way but for us to give up our plans for a future together.
Even friends must trust each other, and marriage without
confidence means unhappiness for two.
Forever your friend
POLLY MAY DUDLEY
As Polly expected, David resented the high stand she had taken, and
his prompt answer consisted of alternate phrases of reproach and
apology. His second letter, however, was milder in tone, gracefully
acknowledging his mistakes, and agreeing, if she would give him one
more chance, never again to cause her grief by any behavior such as he
had been guilty of in the past.
After long debates between head and heart, the latter won the fight,
and Polly wrote a letter which made David go gayly for a week.
Patricia’s father planned for her a birthday fête, ending with a dance,
at the Illingworth Cottage at Samoosic Point, some seven miles from
Fair Harbor. Invitations were sent out three days in advance, and Polly
looked forward to a pleasant outing.
On the evening before the birthday she went over to see Lilith Brooks.
Some arrangements were to be made for the next morning. She found
her friend ready for a walk, and the two girls strolled off in the
direction of green fields and fewer dwellings.
A car whizzed by, a roadster with yellow wheels. For months afterwards
a yellow-wheeled roadster gave Polly a start.
“Wh-why!” gasped Lilith, “that looks just like David!”
“It is,” said Polly quietly.
“I didn’t know he was here.” Lilith’s voice still held its astonishment.
“It is news to me,” laughed Polly; but the laugh did not sound true.
“Who was the girl? Could you tell?”
“I think it was Marietta Converse.”
“It is queer,” Lilith went on, glancing sidewise at her companion. “Do
you suppose Marietta rode down from Camp Converse with him?”
Polly’s heart was repeating the same question. Then things began to
right themselves. If both Marietta and David had errands in town it was
only natural that they should come together.
When Polly returned home she found that David had been there.
“He said he would drive over to Lilith’s and bring you back,” said Mrs.
Dudley.
“I came the short way, cut across the Blanchards’ yard,” explained
Polly. “That’s why I didn’t meet him.”
“He seemed anxious to see you to-night, so he will probably be here
soon. He is going back early in the morning.”
“Then he won’t stay for the party,” said Polly. “I thought maybe that
is what brought him down.”
She repeated this to David himself.
“No,” he replied indifferently, “I don’t train with that crowd. Are you
going?”
“Of course,” Polly answered.
He looked at her keenly. “With whom?” he asked.
“With two or three of the girls, Lilith Brooks, for one.”
“In whose car?”
“I believe Russell Ely is going to drive.”
“Oh! I might have known,” he commented stiffly.
Polly laughed. “No, you mightn’t,” she returned. “Philip Lee was
intending to take us, but they had unexpected company at home and their
car was needed. That is why we are going with Russell. I don’t see why
you can’t stay over and go with us.”
“Marietta wishes to return at once,” he said. “Besides, I don’t care
for that sort of thing. I wonder that you do.”
“Why shouldn’t I? They are all my friends. I am sure it will be very
pleasant.”
David nodded abstractedly. “There is something I wish to ask you,” he
said slowly, and waited.
“I am listening.”
“Will you promise to do it?”
“I make no promises in the dark,” she laughed.
“I should think you might do one little favor for me,” he complained.
“David, I am ready to do little things for you, or big things; but I
cannot say positively that I will do this special thing without knowing
what it is.”
“Well, then--will you, for my sake, stay away from that foolish party?”
A sudden flame in the girl’s eyes made David flinch.
“So that is why you came down from Camp Converse,” she said--“that!”
Her low voice was tense with scorn. “You have shown me
plainly--just--what--you are!”
With her first words she had sprung to her feet, and now she darted to
the doorway.
“Polly! Wait! Wait!” cried David, putting out a hand.
But she eluded him and was on the stairs before he could reach her.
“Polly! Polly!” he called.
There was no answer, and he heard the door of her room shut with a
click. It was quiet in the hall upstairs.
He hesitated a moment. Then he put on his hat in a bewildered way and
passed out into the street.