"I'm afraid I couldn't pull myself up so far, but I could stand and let
you get on my shoulders, if you could do the pulling up part."
"I could do that easily enough," Polly told her. "I've often practiced
it with the boys, and we have swung ourselves up the rocks in the
mountains out home. Are you sure you can bear my weight, Molly?"
"I can try."
"We'll both do it," Mary offered. "You can put one foot on my shoulder
and one on Molly's, then you won't be so heavy for either one."
"All right. Steady yourselves. Here goes." And in a moment Polly had
clambered to the supporting shoulders, had caught hold of the jutting
rock and had drawn herself up. As she gained her feet and sped away
crying: "I'll be right back," Molly breathed a sigh of relief. "I was
so afraid a piece of the rock would split off and she'd fall," she
confessed to Mary.
It took but a little time to bring Uncle Dick and one of his friends
who swung themselves down easily and set the two stranded children upon
a safe spot, none too soon, for a big wave almost immediately sent a
shower of salt spray over the rock where they had been standing.
"You would have been drenched to the skin," said Uncle Dick as he led
the way to the house, while, left to their fate, the wicked Roseberries
perished miserably.
_CHAPTER XII_
_East and West_
By the middle of September the cottages on the Point were nearly all
deserted, though the Reids lingered on, to the children's satisfaction.
"Oh, dear, I don't want to go back to school, to horrid old examples
and things, although I do want to see my dear Miss Isabel," said Molly,
one morning just before the close of their stay.
"I don't want to see Miss Sharp, I can tell you that, but I do want to
see mother and Reggie and Gwen," said Mary.
"I hate to leave you all," Polly put in, "though I shall be glad to see
mamma and papa and the boys. I'll like to see the ponies too, and the
mountains and everything, but I do wish you girls were going with me."
She really had fewer regrets than her cousins for Polly loved the
freedom of the west, and the miles between seemed very long to the
little girl who had seen neither father, mother nor brothers for three
months. To Mary the delights of unlimited supplies of sweet potatoes
and corn, bountiful plates of ice-cream, freedom from the vigilance of
a strict governess, and the range of fields and woods, where one need
not fear of trespassing, and which were not enclosed by high walls, all
these compensated much for her separation from her family.
The time for her leave-taking of America was drawing near, however, for
her father wrote that they would probably sail about the first of
October, and Uncle Dick would take Polly home about the same time.
Aunt Ada, too, had promised to go to Colorado for a visit so Polly felt
that she had anticipations the others did not have.
"I wish we could all go to Polly's; that's what I wish," declared
Molly. "I wish my father and mother and Mary and Miss Ainslee were all
going."
"I speak for Miss Ainslee to sit with me," said Uncle Dick coming up
with an open letter in his hand. He handed a second letter to Molly.
"Can you read it?" he asked.
"Of course I can," returned Molly indignantly. Then she added, "Mamma
always writes to me on papa's typewriter."
Her uncle laughed, though Molly could not see why.
"You'd better read every word in it," he remarked, "for there is big
news there for a young woman of your size."
Molly hastily tore open the envelope and began to read. She had not
finished the page, however, before she cried out: "News! News! I
should think it was news. What do you think, Mary? What do you think,
Polly?"
"Can't imagine," said Polly. Then as a second thought occurred to her,
"Oh, is your mother going to let you go home with me? I know my mother
has asked to have you, for I wrote to her to beg that you could come."
Molly shook her head. "No, it's east instead of west, Polly. Mother
and I are going to England with Mary and Uncle Arthur."
"Oh!" Mary jumped to her feet and clasped her hand ecstatically. "Oh,
Molly, I am so glad. Aren't you?"
"Yes, I am except for one thing; I know I shall be scared to death of
Miss Sharp. Is she really so very, very strict?"
"My word! but you'd think so. Fancy never being allowed to run, nor to
climb nor to do anything one really likes to do, and, oh, Molly, I
wonder will you eat your meals in the nursery with us children.
There's nasty rice pudding twice a week, you know, and there are never
hot rolls nor biscuits for breakfast as you have here, then we do have
horribly cold houses in winter."
"Oh!" Molly looked quite disturbed by this report. But presently her
face again broke into smiles. "But then, to see England and to be with
you, Mary. We shall go up to London in the spring and we shall spend
the winter in Cornwall or Devon, where it is not so very cold, mother
says."
"Oh, we are to be in the country, then," said Mary. "I'm glad of that.
Papa thought we should take our country home again this winter; we were
not there last year."
"It's so funny to go to the country for winter and the city for
summer," remarked Polly. "We do just the opposite."
"Oh, but we like the country in winter," Mary explained. "It's jolly
good sport to be there then. We have a proper little pony of our own,
you know, and we really have quite good times." Polly laughed. "It is
so funny to hear Mary say a 'proper' pony. We would say a real pony,
wouldn't we?"
"I shall be corrected a great many times for the American things I have
learned to say," said Mary. "I've no doubt but that Miss Sharp will be
continually coming down on me for saying them. She is a sharp one,
true enough. I'll have to watch myself."
"She needn't try to correct me," Molly put in.
"Oh, but you are an American," Mary hastened to reassure her, "and
you'll do just as your mother bids you, of course."
This relieved the situation for Molly. The prospect of frequent drives
behind the "proper little pony," and the pleasure of a real English
Christmas, which Mary had described in glowing colors, cheered her up,
and she stated that she thought she could stand Miss Sharp as long as
her own mother would always be on hand to refer to.
As the three were talking it all over, Uncle Dick appeared at the door.
"Well, Mollykins," he said, "how do you like your news?"
"Oh, do you know it, too?" she said, running up to him. "I like it
very much, but I wish you and Aunt Ada and Polly were going, too."
"That would be too many at once," he returned. "Go in and see your
Aunt Ada; she has something to tell you."
"Who is it about?" asked Molly.
Uncle Dick walked down the porch steps. "It concerns me very much," he
said over his shoulder.
"Concerns him? Do you suppose he is going to England, too?" said Mary.
"Let's go and find out," returned Molly. And the three ran indoors to
where Miss Ada sat.
"Well, kitties," she said as they came in, "there is a lot of news
to-day, isn't there?"
"Yes, isn't it fine that mother and I are going to England? That is
what you meant, isn't it?"
"Not all."
"Uncle Dick said you had something to tell us," said Polly.
"So I have. It concerns Polly more than any of you, though it might
concern Molly if she were not going abroad."
"That sounds like a puzzle," laughed Polly. "But Uncle Dick said it
concerned him."
"The silly boy!" Miss Ada drew down the corners of her mouth. "No
doubt he'll make it his concern. Why Polly, it is this: Mr. Perkins,
your tutor, has had a good offer in Denver and as he is so well and
strong now he thinks he must accept it, and as Walter is old enough to
go away to school, your father and mother thought a man was not needed
to teach you and the others, so you are to have a new teacher. Guess
who it is to be?"
"Oh, I can't. Tell me." Polly was all eagerness.
"Miss Ainslee."
"Not my Miss Ainslee?" cried Molly in surprise.
"Your Miss Ainslee."
"Oh, I'm jealous," said Molly. "Oh, Polly, to think you will have her
all to yourself. Oh, dear!"
"But you will not be here, honey," said her aunt, "and besides it is
better for Miss Ainslee that she should go, for the doctor thinks she
cannot get along in the east, and that she must either stop teaching or
go to another climate. She isn't ill exactly, but it is better that
she should not wait till she is. So you see----"
"Oh, I see, but I am sorry all the same," said Molly dolefully.
"And I am tremendously glad," said Polly. "I liked Mr. Perkins very
well, but Miss Ainslee is such an improvement on him. Is she to go out
with us, Aunt Ada?"
"Yes."
"Then that is what Uncle Dick meant when he said it concerned him. He
was thinking how nice it would be to travel all that way with her."
"He's looking further than that," remarked Miss Ada with a smile. "If
things keep on this way I don't believe she will ever come east again
to live, Polly."
"She won't if I can help it," said Uncle Dick from the doorway. "What
do you think of our scheme, Pollywog?" he asked as he caught Polly and
tousled her.
"I think it is grandiferous," replied Polly, squirming out of his
grasp. "But you'd better behave yourself, Mr. Dicky-Pig, or I'll tell
on you."
"Just see how she gets me in her power," said Uncle Dick to his sister.
"I'll not be safe a moment from that wicked child's malicious tales."
"Don't you call me a wicked child," said Polly darting at him. "Now
for your nose."
"Spare me! Spare me!" cried her uncle, putting up both hands. "I'll
be good, Polly; I will indeed, but if you spoil my features, how can
you expect Miss Ainslee ever to like me? If you'll promise to be good
and say nice things about your dear uncle, I'll let you be bridesmaid."
"Oh, Dick, you silly boy!" expostulated his sister. "Don't fill the
child's head with such notions. He hardly knows Miss Ainslee, Polly,
and it will make her so uncomfortable that she will leave, in a month,
if your Uncle Dick keeps up this sort of nonsense."
This hushed up Master Dick and he began to ask Polly such silly
questions as: "What is the result of half a dozen ears of corn and a
pint of Lima beans?"
"You can't add ears and pints," protested Polly stoutly.
"Oh, yes, you can," returned her uncle jauntily. "Luella does it often
and the result is succotash."
Polly made a contemptuous mouth at him.
He laughed and went on. "Here's another. When apples are ten cents a
quart how much are blueberries?"
"Why, why--they're just the same. Aren't they?" Polly appealed to her
Aunt Ada.
"The blueberries are less; they're always less; they're smaller, you
see," her uncle answered.
"That's no answer at all," said Polly in a disgusted tone. "I won't
play," and she stalked off to join her cousins.
Yet, as the poet Burns says: "The best laid plans of mice and men gang
aft agley," and, after all, things did not turn out exactly as was at
first expected; for when the children had made their rounds to say good
bye to Ellis and Myrtle, Leona, Ora and the rest, and when they were
actually on the boat with Cooney safe in a big basket, Uncle Dick
pulled some letters out of his pocket and began to look them over. "I
found these in our box this morning when I went into the post-office,"
he said. "There's one for you, Ada, and here's one for me from
Arthur." He glanced down the page. "Well, well, well," he exclaimed,
"this settles your hash, Miss Molly."
"What do you mean?" asked Molly, leaving her seat and coming over to
him.
"Why, listen. This is from Mary's father. 'A turn in the business
which brought me over, compels me to remain at least three months
longer, so I am accepting John Perrine's kind offer to keep my little
girl till I am ready to go back home. I am sure the dry climate of
Colorado will complete the good work of the summer and that I shall be
able to take Mary home with her health entirely established.'"
Polly rushed tumultuously at Mary and gave her a hearty squeeze. "I'm
going to have you! I'm going to have you!" she cried. "Won't we have
good times?"
Molly sat with a very grave face looking on. Her uncle smiled down at
her. "Looks as if you were out of it, doesn't it, Mollykins?" he said.
Molly turned a mournful countenance upon him and gave a long sigh. "I
s'pose mother and I will not be going to England at all," she said.
"I' s'pose' not," said her aunt. "In fact I am quite sure of it." She
put down the letter which she was reading. "There is a change of plans
all around, Molly dear, and you're not left out, as you will see. You
know, my dearie, that your mother was taking the opportunity of
visiting England because your father expected to make a business trip
which would keep him away from home all winter, and your parents had
concluded to rent their house to some friends. Now that the house is
actually rented and you are not going to England your mother will go
with your father, and you, Molly, my kitten, will go to Colorado that
you may still have your lessons and be in good hands. Your father and
mother will stop for you on their way home. As for me----"
Molly did not wait for the last words, but rushed over to where Mary
and Polly with heads together were excitedly talking over the plans for
the coming winter. Molly precipitated herself upon them in a tumult of
excitement. "I'm going, too! I'm going, too!" she cried.
"Where? Where?" exclaimed Polly.
"To Colorado! to Colorado, with you and Mary!" chanted Molly.
A squeal of delight from Polly was followed by one scarcely less joyful
from Mary, and then the three took hold of hands and danced around the
steamboat cabin till they dropped in a heap at the feet of their aunt
and uncle.
"Just think," said Molly when she had recovered her breath. "We'll all
be together just as we were this summer, you, Polly, and Mary and Uncle
Dick and Aunt Ada."
"You must count me out, Molly," said her Aunt Ada. "I shall do no more
than see you all safely at the ranch, and then I am going to spend the
winter further south with my dear friend Janey Moffatt who has been
married a whole year and whom I have never yet visited. I have just
had this letter setting the time for me to come. I think Miss Ainslee
and your Aunt Jennie can keep you three in order."
"If not, there am I," put in Uncle Dick scowling savagely.
"As if you----" began Polly. But he made a dive at her and she
disappeared behind a pillar of the cabin.
"Now," said Miss Ada, "it is just as I said: there will be no
difficulty in deciding where Cooney is to go, and to tell you the
truth, my dears, I think he will thrive better in a cool climate than
anywhere else, for with their fluffy coats, these little coon cats are
liable to fall ill and die where it is too warm for them. The ranch
will be just the place for him." So Cooney's future was assured and in
time he reached his new home safely, none the worse for the long
journey, during which he was tenderly cared for. Luella had gladly
taken charge of Cosey, promising to return to Miss Ada the next summer
and to bring the little cat with her.
"Even if I'm married," she said, "Granville says I may live with you
summers, Miss Ada, whilst he's off fishing."
When Molly had spent two weeks with her parents and Mary had seen her
father, the three little girls were ready to set out upon their longer
journey, though it must be confessed that at the last Molly found it
hard to say good-bye, and Mary looked rather grave. Polly, however,
reminded Mary that there would be no Miss Sharp at the ranch, and Uncle
Dick whispered to Molly that he didn't see how any one could be other
than happy at the prospect of spending part of each day in Miss
Ainslee's company, and from that began to make such delightful plans
that in a short time they were happy in thinking of the good times
ahead of them. Uncle Dick promised to provide each with a safe little
broncho to ride. Aunt Ada told them that their Aunt Jennie had put
three small beds in her biggest room, so that the little girls could
room together. Miss Ainslee told Molly confidentially that it made all
the difference in the world to her that she was to have one of her own
little pupils with her, and Polly, who really loved Cooney more than
either of the others, was so delighted at not having to give him up
that she was ready to share him generously with her cousins, and always
lifted him over into Mary's or Molly's lap whenever one of them said:
"Now, Polly, you have had him long enough."
Altogether the long journey was not unpleasant, and when the travelers
at last arrived, though they were weary, they were very happy, and that
night cuddled down in their little white beds while around their
dwelling place towered up the great mountains, steadfast as the
friendship which was born that summer in the hearts of the three little
cousins and which lasted their lifetime.