AN ATTEMPT AT MATCHMAKING
The children were having their early tea as John Eustis and his sister
drove up to the door of Sunrise Chalet.
“Didn’t you get our telegram?” asked Kate, when Polly expressed her
surprise. “John telegraphed the first thing this morning, as soon as
we decided to come. You see,” turning to her brother, “it would have
been surer to telephone, as mother suggested; but, never mind, we’re
here! And, Polly, if you haven’t enough to eat, just send John down to
Overlook for supplies.”
“Yes,” laughed John, with a mischievous glance in Polly’s direction, “I
can bring up some raspberry ice and cream puffs for you, and that will
save all the other things for the rest of us.”
It was a standing joke among Kate’s friends, her readiness at any
time to forego substantial food for raspberry ice and cream puffs; so
now Polly chuckled at John’s sally, but not at all to her friend’s
discomfiture.
“Oh, you may laugh!” she retorted cheerfully; “but I warn you I am not
going home till I have had my fill of Benedicta’s wonderful muffins
and stuffed beefsteak and custard pie and blueberry cakes and chicken
turnovers. There, I’ve ordered my meals! Now you can give me what you
please.”
Polly made a smiling response, though in a little dismay she silently
ran over their stock of eatables and wondered if Kate’s suggestion
might not hold a hint of truth. She decided, however, that nothing more
would be absolutely needed before Monday morning, when the grocer would
be there.
Sally Robinson was with the young people at Sunrise Chalet much of
the time during the visitors’ stay, and wherever they were there were
also good-fellowship and mirth. Nobody could have guessed that Polly’s
thoughts were often far away from the little group of merrymakers. She
found herself almost constantly wondering how it was with Patricia, and
if John really did care for her. She fancied that she might find out if
she could see him alone; but there never seemed to be any chance for
that.
Sunday morning the party drove down to the little Overlook church, and
after dinner they strolled down the mountain, pairing off as young
folks will. Polly wished that John would drop behind to her; but he
walked beside Sally. Lilith was with Dr. Abbe, while Polly and Kate
kept together at the side of the woodsy road and talked of happenings
at Fair Harbor during the last few weeks.
Suddenly Lilith, who had climbed a high bank to pick some late
raspberries, made a misstep. She clutched at the thorny bushes, but
down the incline she rolled, tearing both hands and clothing. In the
confusion Polly found herself beside John; nevertheless, when it was
discovered that Lilith was not injured beyond a few scratches, and the
party walked on again, he returned to Sally.
At this, Polly marveled not a little. It was clear to her that John
was either uncommonly devoted to Sally or positively avoiding herself.
Which was it? She could not decide. She had staked her hopes upon the
chance of talking with him this afternoon, and now it would soon be
time for their return. Without doubt her opportunity was gone. Why
couldn’t he have fallen in with her plans! Poor Patricia! Well, perhaps
she had better give up her attempts at matchmaking.
In the same order the party walked back to the house for tea and then
spent the evening at Sally’s home. It was hard for Polly to overcome
her disappointment.
After breakfast Kate went to bid Sally good-bye and returned almost at
once in some excitement.
“They want me to stay the week out at least!” she cried delightedly.
“You won’t mind going back alone, shall you, John? And I can go home by
train.”
“What a fine time I shall have, with nobody to talk to me all day
long!” he exclaimed mockingly.
“Well, it is shabby to make you go that lonely road without a soul to
keep you company,” she confessed in contrition; “but I do so want to
stay over--oh, I say, Polly can ride down to Overlook with you! That
will be something, and she said she had got to go down to-day--didn’t
you, Polly?”
For one instant Polly’s eyes lighted; then, as suddenly, they were
dulled by a shadow. In that brief time she had seen the face of John
Eustis change from dismay to smiling courtesy.
“He doesn’t want me,” was the girl’s humiliating thought, and she spoke
out quickly, halting the seemingly eager words upon the man’s lips.
“Oh, no, I can’t go this morning! It is impossible!”
“Do come! I wish you would,” John made response.
“How am I to get home?” Polly smiled.
“Oh, how stupid of me!” scowled Kate. Then she brightened. “Why can’t
you ride up with the grocer?”
“He must be far on his route by this time. No, there isn’t any way for
me to get back--unless I walk,” she laughed.
John looked troubled. What was it? Polly could not tell.
“I wonder if--” he began.
“Teeters and tongs!” broke in Benedicta from the kitchen; “you go right
along, Miss Polly! I’ll drive down after yer soon ’s I get my work
done.”
“Why, can you drive the car?” exclaimed Kate.
“Sure!” scorned the woman.
“I’m almost afraid to let you,” demurred Polly. “You’ve never been down
alone--excepting once.”
“If I can’t manipulate that chariot, we’ll go deviltydamn together,”
announced Benedicta.
Three minutes later Lilith was upstairs helping Polly dress for her
ride.
Polly stopped suddenly, her frock half on--stopped with an air of
finality.
“I’m not going! Will you take my place?”
“Why, of course not! What should I do with John Eustis on my hands for
an hour?”
Polly laughed at Lilith’s look of despair. “Talk to him--just as I’d
have to. And he doesn’t want me. You know he doesn’t--you saw that.”
“I didn’t see anything of the kind--when?” Lilith looked her
astonishment.
“When Kate suggested my going--of course, you saw it!”
“I didn’t. ’Twas only your imagination. He urged you to go.”
“Oh, yes, he couldn’t help it!” She hesitated. “I will not go!” she
declared.
Yet when the car was at the door she ran downstairs in her pretty
pink-and-white gingham, as smilingly fresh and happy as if she had
never had a trouble or a perplexing problem.
Lilith looked upon her with wonder and admiration. She wished that she
could veil her heart so easily. Polly had herself well under control,
there was no doubt about that.
After the chatter of leave-taking both the driver and his companion
said little. To be sure, John was seldom very talkative; but Polly was
not given to long silences, and now she wondered whether she had better
let John have his way or break into his thoughts with commonplaces. In
his present mood she hardly dared attempt any reference to the matter
which lay closest the door of her heart.
But after waiting in vain for John to speak she grew impatient and
began to talk quite casually about the large crop of blackberries
apparent on the sides of the road.
At once John came out of his abstraction--if abstraction it was--and
they fell into easy conversation.
Soon Polly became bolder. “I hope Patricia will come up while the
berries are at their best,” she said, furtively watching her companion.
“She delights in them. I wish she were here now.”
“I wish she were,” echoed John fervently--“this very minute!” He was
gazing straight ahead, his face set in stern lines.
This was so unexpected as for a moment to throw Polly off her balance;
but she quickly recovered herself. Here was her opportunity! She must
not lose it.
“John,” she began, with a hint of hesitation, “I have been wanting to
speak to you about Patricia. You know, she isn’t happy.”
He bowed slightly without turning.
“Of course, it is not my business--and, yet, in one sense it is, for
Patty is very dear to me. It was hard to see her as she was when I came
away.”
He did not help her with any response, and she went on.
“If there has been a--I mean, some little misunderstanding, maybe I
could be of use to you in setting things right.”
He turned to her now in such obvious astonishment that her eyes widened.
“Me?” he questioned--“‘be of use’ to me? I don’t know what you mean.”
She gazed at him blankly. Had she made some dreadful blunder? Or was he
feigning innocence of the whole affair?
“Why, John,” she said quickly, “you can’t deny that you and Patricia
are--or, at least, have been--interested in each other, can you?”
“We may as well talk plain English,” he answered. “If you mean to ask
if she is in love with me, I can tell you emphatically that she is not.”
“Oh, John, that is only your mistake! I was afraid that was the
trouble.”
“Now, see here, Polly, I happen to know that Patricia Illingworth
doesn’t care the ghost of a pin about me, and never did--any more than
I care for her. I like her, but like isn’t love. She and Houghton Swift
have had a quarrel--”
“Houghton Swift!” gasped Polly--“Oh!”
“Yes, Houghton Swift. I think it is coming out all right--looks that
way--wish I could be as sure of something else.”
He was staring down the road now, his hands gripping the wheel. Polly
could see his fingers tighten their hold.
“I’m ashamed to have made such a stupid blunder,” she began. “I
thought--”
They had rounded a curve, and the car had come to a stop on a level
stretch between the tall pines. John Eustis was bending towards her. It
was doubtful that he had heard a word of her half-spoken apology.
“Polly,” he said, “if I had not believed that I was master of myself
I should not have come up here. I had decided against it, and then
Kate urged me, and I yielded. I soon found how things were going with
me, and yesterday I kept as far away from you as I well could; then
this morning Kate muddled up matters and--I beg your pardon--now you
have most unconsciously spurred me on--until I must speak! Polly, I
want you! Do you love me, Polly? Have you held off, believing that I
belonged to Patricia? Have you, Polly?”
The girl sat like one struck dumb. This sudden revelation, so utterly
unforeseen, had left her white and rigid, her eyes filled to the brim
with pain.
“Polly, tell me that you love me! Tell me!” he pleaded.
Something like a sob broke from her lips, and she uttered a little moan.
“I see,” he said unsteadily--“I see! You have no need to speak. I
suppose I could have seen before if I had not been blind.”
“There is--David, you know,” Polly said softly.
“David!” he echoed scornfully; “always David! Forgive me. I knew this
was no time for speaking, so soon after--” He stopped abruptly. “But
why will you let that fellow spoil your life? You don’t really love
him! I doubt if you ever did.”
“John Eustis! You don’t know what you are saying!” Polly’s voice held a
mixture of fire and tears.
“I know he isn’t worthy of you,” he replied fiercely. “There he is, up
in that camp, gallanting all the girls for miles around, and leaving
you to eat your heart out--you, worth the whole posse of them put
together!”
“He isn’t!” Polly burst out. “How do you know?”
“So folks say. Believe it or not as you choose.”
“I don’t believe it! But what if he is! I don’t care! Probably people
are saying that I am a fool not to throw him over.”
“Not exactly that. Most of them think you have done it--just as I
did. You certainly ought to. I suppose I should be ashamed of myself,
talking this way; but I’m not. I used to think David Collins was a
pretty fair sort; but the way he has tormented you is enough--I can’t
help hoping he’ll get his pay for it all, and I don’t doubt he will.”
Polly listened with mingled anger and sorrow, added to the wonder
that she did not speak out in David’s defense. Was it true that David
was--doing that? Was he? It was not like him--and yet--
* * * * *
Suddenly Polly came to herself with a start. What had John been saying?
She had not heard. She had been up in the Maine woods with David.
“If you can give me one little hope,” he went on, “I will try to wait
patiently until this affair with David is settled. If I have your
permission to keep on loving you--as I must always love you whether you
will or not--I can go away happier. Polly, may I carry that bit of hope
with me?”
“Oh, no, no, John, you must not!” she cried hurriedly. “I shall
never--marry! That I have decided. I expect to be a nurse. I enjoy
taking care of people, especially children, and I think father and
mother will like me to do that. The children here are so interesting.
They make me forget--” Her voice became inaudible.
“It will take more than interesting children to make me forget!”
exclaimed the young man. Then he--the self-contained John Eustis--did
a surprising thing. He caught Polly’s hand and pressed it impetuously
to his lips.
In vain she tried to pull away. Gripping the little hand with a force
that hurt, he left fierce, passionate kisses upon fingers and palm.
When they drove into Overlook they were conversing in a friendly way,
but with more than a touch of constraint, and the good-byes were as
conventional as they were brief.