SUCCESS FOR POLLY.
The grand extra concert, the best of the year, given by the Symphony
Orchestra, with Mrs. Jasper King as pianist, was over, and only
a delightful memory. Every member of the orchestra declared no
such performer on the piano had it ever been their good fortune to
accompany, and musical critics went a little wild in their efforts to
find adequate expressions to describe her treatment of the theme she
had chosen.
It was a great society event; all the fashionable world of Berton being
in evidence, with good sprinklings from New York and other towns to
overcrowd the house. But Polly, although her heart responded, most
especially for Jasper’s sake, to these tokens of cordial interest and
admiration, felt her whole soul drawn to the old friends who, here and
there, were in conspicuous seats among the audience. They were all
there, as far as was possible. Miss Salisbury, who had left her school
and the duties that never before allowed her to wander, recklessly
dropped all this time into the sub-principal’s hands, and went off to
hear her dear old pupil, Polly Pepper.
Cathie Harrison, living in the South with her grandmother, made that
old lady pick up her belongings, and take a two weeks’ jaunt, that
included Berton on its return. Amy Loughead in New York, under the care
of her aunt, Mrs. Montgomery, of course was there; the two happening to
take the same train on with the Rev. Joel Pepper, who had collected his
friend Robert Bingley for that very purpose.
The Cabots and Van Meters, besides Ben Pepper, who represented that
house now, the Alstynes, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Dyce, and a score
or more of other old friends, all turned up at the last minute,
and electrified Polly with swift glances of recognition across the
crowded hall, that cheered her on over the difficult passages better
than any applause could possibly have done. Charlotte Chatterton
seemed to be the only one left out. She was in Europe, turning out
something wonderful, if accounts were true, with her voice--“unlocked
by Phronsie’s golden key,” Charlotte always said, in telling how
Phronsie’s generous gift of a portion of old Lady Chatterton’s money
had made it possible for her to cultivate her one talent. Charlotte’s
love for Phronsie was so passionate it seemed to outrun her love for
music, making it a dreary exile for her to stay and study abroad. Only
the hope of seeing Dr. Fisher and Mother Fisher kept her from running
off with a homesick heart to the dear old friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Mason Whitney of course were there, and Van, mightily
proud of being in his father’s business, and engaged to one of
the sweetest girls born and brought up in his set, “the little
blue-and-white creature,” whom Joel so desperately entertained at the
Welcome-Home-party years ago. Van had regularly offered himself to
Phronsie at any and every opportunity that had presented itself in the
past three years, to be as regularly but more gently refused. And now
he had wisely concluded to pass that pleasing attention down to Dick,
or rather Dick had taken it upon himself, with small care whether or
no Mr. Van passed it along. And Van had looked around for the best way
to settle in life, to get ready for that partnership with his father
which he fondly hoped was just ahead of him; so he proposed and was
accepted promptly by Gladys Ray, who had, it seems, been waiting for
him all the time; and everybody was delighted; and Van was so important
with it all, his mother having brought along little Miss Ray in the
party, that Percy, a newly fledged lawyer with his shingle just out,
who was in the party also, found it hard to bear with equanimity his
unimportance, and the trouble of his monocle, just assumed.
Dick brought along a whole lot of his jolly brother collegians, among
them the three who figured in Phronsie’s car episode, and who trusted
not to be recognized; but Dick, not knowing anything of it, hauled
along this identical trio, after the concert, and presented them, “Mr.
Fox, Mr. Beresford, and Mr. Sargent,” when they immediately had the
appearance of desiring to melt away again.
Dick was here, there, and everywhere on this occasion, bubbling over
with jubilation. Was he not to go into the house of Marlowe & King “the
very day after graduation--yes, sir!” to begin his dream of being a
publisher.
But the best of all, in Polly’s eyes, was the presence of Jasper’s and
her dear friend David Marlowe, who sat in one of the front rows. Mr.
Marlowe never took his eyes from Polly; but sat quietly through it
all, when it became impossible for the other friends to control their
intense interest. But how his keen gray eyes glistened! And when it was
all over, he put his good right hand on Jasper’s, “My boy!” said he in
that strong, clear voice of his; and Jasper knew all his friend’s heart
better than if many words had been uttered.
The only disappointment in certain quarters was that Polly had issued
her command that no flowers should be given, thus throwing Dick, as
well as some other friends, into incipient rebellion.
“No, indeed,” said Polly, who dearly loved to be elegant in just the
right way, when some inkling of Dick’s extravagant plans had come to
her, “not so much as a solitary sprig--now remember, Dicky,” one glance
of her brown eyes, and Dicky and everybody else knew that offence in
this respect meant a terrible thing.
But afterward, when they got Polly away from “the mob,” as the
collegians called it, of those swarming up to congratulate, then
Jasper took matters into his own hands, and disclosed the surprise
he had planned for Polly; and with Mr. Marlowe’s aid, he piloted all
the old friends, and a goodly number of new ones, to the special cars
waiting for them, and away they all went for dinner, and to top off the
evening at “The Oaks.”
Phronsie had sent a very special invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Carroll
Atherton, to Mrs. Drysdale and to Bella, and also to “Cousin Charley
Swan;” so they all came. And Miss Willoughby was there, and she found
an old schoolfellow in Miss Salisbury before the evening was half out;
and everything went merrily as possible in every section of the big
company.
And Alexia, whose little “Pumpkin” was bursting with guests, up for
the occasion,--she having stipulated that Cathie Harrison and Cathie
Harrison’s grandmother should be part of her especial share,--was there
in full force, helping, with Mrs. Fargo and Pickering, to receive
and do the honors, having “told the baby all about it before,” and
consigned him to Bonny’s tender mercies.
And when the dinner had proceeded to the toasts, Jasper looked
across the table into his wife’s eyes, “Yes, Polly,” he said to
her questioning look, “I cabled Mamsie the very minute you finished
playing.”
“Indeed he did!” cried Mr. Marlowe, smiling into her rosy face.
“O Jasper, how lovely of you!” cried Polly with dewy eyes. “And is that
what you signalled the usher for?”
“Yes, dear,” he said, smiling at her; “I had it all written before. You
didn’t think I could leave the dear Mamsie a minute longer than was
necessary without the news?”
“No, Jasper,” she said; “but oh, how lovely in you to do it!”
Phronsie, opposite Grandpapa, who was stately and resplendent at the
head of one of the other tables, looked over happily, “O Jasper!” she
exclaimed, clasping her hands, “does Mamsie really know it now?”
“Yes, Phronsie,” said Jasper, beaming at her; “she really does.”
Phronsie sat quite still, her hands remaining clasped. It was as if
the dear Mamsie’s face was really there before her, with the light and
cheer that always made everything bright; and a tender look came into
Phronsie’s eyes and around the curves of her mouth. And then her face
drooped; and the dreadful longing that she had had every minute since
Mother Fisher had sailed, just to see her again, settled down upon her.
“Mamsie!” she breathed slowly, but in a way to make everybody turn and
look at her.
Just then the heavy brass knocker on the front door clanged sharply.
One of the maids brought in a yellow envelope, which she handed to
Jasper. He tore it open quickly. “O Polly!” and across the table it
sped to her. “Give it to Phronsie; let her read it first, dear. It’s
from Mamsie!”
When they all came out of the babel of confused delight, Phronsie still
sitting with clasped hands but radiant face, Jasper stood up and read:--
“To my dear Polly, I send my proud and loving word. I knew she would
do it. And give my love to Phronsie.
MAMSIE.”
“We’ll drink her health,” cried Jasper. “Simmons, pass the loving-cup.”
So the butler took down the massive silver loving-cup, that had been
for generation after generation in the King family, from the oaken
sideboard, and filled it with pure cold water to the brim, “The only
thing worthy of it,” said Polly; and all the company stood up, and
Jasper lifted it high, with “Our Mamsie, now as always our guide, our
comfort, and our delight; we pledge ourselves anew to her in loyal
love.” And then the cup went around silently to every one.
[Illustration: The loving-cup was filled with pure cold water to the
brim, “The only thing worthy of it,” said Polly.]
And Ben proposed Father Fisher, and everybody drank his health and
happiness; and then Polly turned a happy face over toward old Mr. King.
“Our dear Grandpapa was _everything_,” she said; “I don’t know what we
should ever have done without him.”
And around went the loving-cup again. And this neat little speech so
touched the old gentleman that he got out of his chair, and responded
right gallantly to his daughter, and to the rest of the “Five Little
Peppers.” And Jasper’s eyes shone with proud delight, and everybody
applauded to the echo. And then Davie, the new instructor in literature
at a Western university, and already booked in the minds of all present
for the professor’s chair, was called out for a speech; and a right
good one it was too, the Rev. Joel pounding vigorously his approval
above all the others on the festal board.
And Hamilton Dyce tried his hand at talking a bit, and brought down the
house with many funny reminiscences; and Mr. Marlowe said, as he always
did, exactly the right word in the right place; and Joel was called for
loudly, but he had slipped away just then, so several of the others
talked; and then Jasper brought down his improvised gavel, the handle
of Grandpapa’s cane, “Speeches declared over! We will now adjourn to
the little brown house;” and Polly led off proudly with Grandpapa, as
was quite right, Phronsie and Mr. Marlowe following, the rest of the
company falling in as they chose, with Jasper at the rear corralling
all the stragglers into line.
“Let’s march all around it, father dear,” whispered Polly, gleefully as
a child. So they led off in the moonlight the long procession around
and around the little brown house, till some one proposed unwinding and
going the other way. But they didn’t do it, but just broke ranks, and
rushed unceremoniously into the old kitchen.
And there were Polly’s two hundred candles she longed for in the old
days, all alight most merrily, which explained the Rev. Joel’s absence
from the last part of the speech-making; and after that there was no
more quiet. The old kitchen resounded to the babel of happy voices,
until at last everybody drew up in a circle of chairs, getting the
Peppers in the centre, whom they besieged for stories of those old
times.
“I’m a Pepper!” cried Jasper, scrambling into the charmed circle. “I
was in those happy days.”
“Yes, Jappy belongs to us,” said Phronsie.
“Jap always felt so smart,” declared Van enviously, “because he knew
the Peppers first.” Percy looked as if he wanted to say as much,
but concluded to keep still, and only readjusted his monocle to his
satisfaction.
“We shouldn’t any of us have had or done anything if it hadn’t been for
Jappy; hey, old fellow,” declared Ben, clapping him on the shoulder.
“And dear Grandpapa,” cried Phronsie, with a world of affection in her
eyes, looking over at him.
“Well, Phronsie did it with her gingerbread boy,” said Jasper quickly.
“It was Phronsie, after all, who brought us all together.”
And then everybody clamored for the story of the gingerbread boy again;
so off they rushed on that, old Mr. King edging his chair a little
nearer to the Pepper circle. And then Polly’s old stove had to come in
for a share of attention, and how she had to stuff all the cracks with
paper, and Ben stuffed it with putty, and-- “Davie gave boot-tops,”
broke in Joel, grimly even now at the remembrance of how he felt
because he hadn’t any to give.
And then that brought up Mamsie’s birthday cake, and the momentous work
of getting ready for its baking; and how Phronsie’s toe was pounded;
and how good Grandma Bascom was, and how she wasn’t able now to get out
of her bed because of the rheumatism, but that those guests who stayed
over were to go down the lane to see her to-morrow.
And how the cake, compounded after “Mirandy’s weddin’ receet” was at
last made, and hidden in the old cupboard.
“Joe was such a precious nuisance in those days,” said Jasper, “always
poking and peering around; I suppose they were afraid he’d find it out.”
“We truly had a dreadful time,” said Polly, shaking her head, “to keep
him away from that cupboard.”
“That old cupboard!” declared Joel, bounding out of the circle to swing
wide the upper door. “Oh, what a lot of conniving, and how many dark
conspiracies it might tell!”
And how the dreadful measles fell upon the whole Pepper flock, and the
dear mother was almost in despair, and how good dear Doctor Fisher was,
and how he saved Polly’s eyes, and then got her her stove. And then how
the wonderful Christmas had come from Jappy and Grandpapa, and Polly
had her bird and her flowers, and Ben had made a Santa Claus wig out of
the hair in Mamsie’s old cushion, sprinkling it snowy white with flour.
And how Mamsie had hidden all the splendid presents over at Parson
Henderson’s.
“Such a time as we had,” breathed both the parson and his wife, who had
run up from the Orphan Home at Dunraven for the occasion.
Well--and how Phronsie had her doll, such a gorgeous affair she was
afraid for days to show her to Seraphina, for fear of hurting the
feelings of the latter. And then Phronsie had to get out of her chair,
and make her way out of the circle surrounding the Pepper group, and go
into the bedroom, where, kneeling down before the old bureau, she drew
with a loving hand from the lowest drawer the two dolls.
“Bring the little red-topped shoes, too, Phronsie,” called Polly; “do,
dear.”
[Illustration: With her arms full, Phronsie entered the kitchen.]
So Phronsie reached back into the farthest corner, and carefully drew
out a tissue paper bundle that held the precious shoes, just as she
had worn them last; and with her arms full, she was just entering
the kitchen, all eyes upon her, when Polly said in answer to some
question, “Yes, Mamsie wrote they would be in Rome next month.”
Grace Tupper sprang suddenly from her chair. “O Mrs. King! will they,
will they? Then perhaps they will see my cousin Roslyn May.”