SISTER’S PARTY
When Polly opened her eyes the first thing she saw was James’ kindly
face bending over her anxiously.
“Hullo!” he said encouragingly.
Polly sat up, feeling faint and dizzy. “What is it?” she faltered,
trying to get upon her feet.
“Oh, nothing much,” replied James. “Nothing at all, in fact. Just,
as far as I can make out, you thought you was the Limited an’ I was
Chicago. You run in on schedule time, and no mistake. Why, you almost
knocked me flat, the way you bolted in this door.”
His good-natured laugh gave Polly courage.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said in a firmer voice. “I didn’t mean
to.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” returned the kind-hearted fellow. “I didn’t
mind. I’d a got out of your way if I’d a known this was your busy day
and you was in such a hurry, you know.”
He saw that the little girl was weak and trembling and though he did
not know the cause, he wisely concluded the best plan was to keep her
mind off the matter as long as he could.
So he chatted cheerfully on, meanwhile helping her to rise and guiding
her to the dining-room where he offered her a couple of ladies’-fingers
and a glass of raspberry juice to “sort-of give you an appetite for
your luncheon,” he explained.
But, somehow, Polly’s head had begun to ache and she felt as if the
room were rocking. She did not want anything to eat, she only wanted
to lie down somewhere and go to sleep. Her eyelids drooped and her
head nodded. James, thinking she might have had a bad fall, racked his
brains for jokes that would be funny enough to keep her awake and he
was just about to give up in despair when the bell rang and in came
Hannah with Priscilla clinging to her hand while she clasped a pretty
rag-doll to her bosom. Both were as white as paper. Priscilla was
crying softly. Before James could open his lips Hannah gasped wildly:
“Polly! Whatever shall I do? She’s running the streets! She’ll get
killed. If he catches her he’ll beat her, maybe! Oh, dear! the young
ruffian! I was just coming out of the shop when I saw---- But she was
off like a shot from a shovel and he after her. I couldn’t keep up with
them, not if I’d been paid a million dollars for it, and in a minute
they were out of sight. Oh, that poor child! Where is she now?” and
Hannah wrung her hands.
James looked bewildered as well he might. “I haven’t the least notion
what you’re talking about,” he said, “but I kind of dimly make out
you’re worried about Polly. Well, you don’t need to be. She’s in the
dining-room, all safe and sound, though a bit unsteady in the feet and
dizzy in the head, by the looks of her.”
But Hannah had not waited to hear more than the words that told her
Polly was safe. The next instant she was in the dining room with the
little girl gathered tight in her arms. Polly tried to smile at her and
at Priscilla who was gently patting her arms and whispering something
that no one could hear, but she dared not keep her eyes open when
the room whirled about so dizzily and Hannah had to call on James to
carry her up-stairs and put her on the nursery lounge. It was while
she was curled up there, sleeping off her fright and fatigue, with
Priscilla sitting on guard beside her, that Hannah told James what
had happened. She did not mind his frequent interruptions of “Good
girl!” “First-rate!” “Hurrah for Polly!” for she was as excited over
the adventure as he was, and was glad to have the child appreciated
for her part in it. The story had to be gone over again from beginning
to end for the benefit of Priscilla’s mother and Miss Cicely and when
Polly woke it was to find herself famous. She was surprised and a
little shamefaced at the praise she received. She could not see why
they made so much of her. She had “just made that naughty boy give back
Priscilla’s doll, that was all. Of course she knew he’d be mad when she
boxed his ears, but a boy was a coward who made a little girl cry and
he ought to be punished. Then, of course, she ran when he chased her
and--and she snatched up his papers ’cause somehow, it came into her
mind that if she took them he would forget about Priscilla’s doll. It
was too bad she had scared Hannah. She would try not to worry her any
more.”
Miss Cissy kissed her tenderly and so did Mrs. Duer, at which Polly
felt as if she were a queen who had just been crowned. And that was the
end of the affair as far as she knew.
Priscilla seemed to be thriving so splendidly that it was decided to
leave the city much earlier than usual so she could spend the bright
spring days entirely out of doors and get the good of the beautiful
country air.
One morning toward the middle of April Hannah took Polly to the
hospital to say good-bye to sister. Polly had often been there before,
but to-day she found the invalid in a cheerful little sitting-room,
with the sun streaming in at the window and violets and daffodils upon
the table. It was all just as Hannah had said it would be, even to the
white-capped nurses, “as neat as wax,” bringing sister lovely things
to eat. Sister had been in bed when Polly was there before, but now to
the little girl’s delight, she found her sitting up in a wheeled-chair
and looking cheerful and happy in a dainty pink flannel robe with bows
of ribbon on it and lace about the throat and wrists. Miss Cissy had
brought it to her the day before.
“Why, you’re almost well,” cried Polly joyously.
Sister smiled. “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” she replied and hugged
her little visitor to her with a sort of hungry look in her patient
eyes.
“I guess you’ll be walking around before I know it almost,” quoted
Polly eagerly, and sister nodded her head.
“So you are going off into the country,” she said quickly. “What
fun you’ll have and how beautiful it will be to see the flowers
blossoming and to hear the birds singing. The fields will all be green
and there’ll be dandelions in them and daisies, and you must hunt
for four-leafed clovers. Why, you ought to be the best girl in the
world with so much good coming to you. She tries to do right, doesn’t
she, Hannah? I’m glad. I knew she would. You’ll remember, won’t you,
Polly, that sister wants you to tell the truth always; never to tell a
falsehood. And you must be kind and generous to every one and cheerful
too. There’s a little young mother here who has the cunningest baby! A
tiny thing only a few months old; and she has made up a song to sing
to it that goes like this:
“‘Nice little babies never, never cry
Or when they do, we know the reason why.
Good little babies bravely bear a deal,
They hold their little heads up
No matter how they feel.’
I want my Polly to ‘hold her little head up, no matter how she feels,’
for that is the only brave way, you know.”
Polly felt a lump rising in her throat. “I’ll try,” she whispered.
Then Hannah brought out a basket packed full of dainties, which Mrs.
Duer had sent, and nothing would do but they must have a tea-party, to
which sister insisted upon inviting Polly, Hannah, the nurse and the
mother of the “nice little baby.”
While Polly went to carry the invitations Hannah hurriedly asked, “You
are better, though, aren’t you really? Oh, I hope so, miss.” Sister’s
eyes brimmed with gratitude. “I hope so too,” she said hesitatingly.
“The doctors are giving me a little rest now because they say I
couldn’t stand any more pain for a while. I tried very hard to be
courageous; ‘to bravely bear a deal,’ you know; ‘to hold my little head
up no matter how I felt,’ but they say I’ll have to rest for a few
weeks. By and by they are going to try again, and then, if my strength
holds out, I may really get better. They say there is a chance--just
think what that means! a chance that I may be able to walk again! It
makes me too happy!”
Hannah caught up the basket and hid her face behind the cover, while
she pretended to be very busy taking out the hidden goodies.
Polly thought that it was the jolliest tea-party in the world, though
she, herself, ate hardly anything at all because she was so occupied
with the wonderful mite of a baby which she was permitted to hold in
her own arms, just as if she had been a grown-up woman. Its mother
seemed to see at once that she was reliable and could be trusted, and
that, in itself, was an honor to be proud of. The baby, too, seemed
to have confidence in her new nurse, for she smiled and gurgled and
blinked her eyes and did all the dear, ridiculous things that babies
do, and then fell fast asleep in Polly’s lap, with her little hands
clinched tight into two tiny fists, as if she meant to stand up and
fight anybody who said she wasn’t the biggest and bravest baby in all
the town.
“What’s her name?” whispered Polly at last when the mite was too sound
asleep to be disturbed by her voice.
“She hasn’t got a name yet,” answered her mother. “No name seems quite
pretty enough. Do you know of any name you think would be nice? What
is the loveliest name you know?”
“I know lots,” returned Polly confidently. “There’s Hannah! Hannah is a
fine name. And Ruth! Ruth is sister’s name. Then I think Edith is just
sweet and Priscilla is most the grandest one I ever heard. But, I know
the one I love the best--it’s Cicely! Did you ever hear of a handsomer
name than Cicely? If you could call this baby Cicely I think it would
be perfectly splendid.”
The little young mother did not answer at once. She seemed to be
considering. But suddenly she gave a decided nod of her head. “Well
then,” she announced firmly, “I’ll call the baby Cicely. I’m sure
she’d like to be named by so good a little girl as you are. So Cicely
she will be called, Cicely Bell. They go nicely together, don’t they,
without any middle name to interfere? When she wakes I’ll tell her her
name’s Cicely.”
“Whose name is Cicely?”
The entire tea-party turned around in confusion and there in the
doorway stood Miss Cissy herself and just behind her a tall and very
elegant gentleman.
“Dear me!” laughed she. “I hope we are not intruding. But please tell
me, before we run away and leave you to yourselves again, whose name is
Cicely?”
Polly seemed to be the only one who could find her tongue. “Why--why,
the baby’s,” she cried eagerly. “Don’t you see her here in my lap? Mrs.
Bell let me name her. And isn’t she the prettiest, cunningest baby in
the world. See her tiny hands and her darling ears! And isn’t she good?
She let me put her to sleep. Oh, if she hadn’t been the best baby she
couldn’t have been named Cicely.”
Miss Cissy flushed with pleasure and amusement at the genuine
compliment and coming forward knelt down before Polly’s knee.
“She is indeed a dear baby,” she said, taking one of the wee pink fists
in hers and kissing it lightly. “And so you have really called her
Cicely?”
Mrs. Bell nodded and murmured shyly, “Yes’m. Polly named her.”
“Well, that’s my name, you know, and if Polly gave it to her because
it’s mine, of course she is my namesake, there’s no doubt about that.”
Little Mrs. Bell flushed and trembled. “Excuse me, miss,” she stammered
faintly. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have made so bold. Indeed I
wouldn’t.”
But Miss Cissy broke in on her apologies with a merry laugh. “Oh, pray
don’t spoil the compliment,” she begged. “Why, I am as flattered and
pleased as possible.”
The gentleman who had followed Miss Cissy into the room seemed almost
as flattered and pleased as she. His face quite glowed with pride and
Polly saw him draw an important looking leathern wallet from his inner
coat pocket and bring out of it a shining gold piece. “May I shake
hands with your young daughter?” he enquired of Mrs. Bell and when,
almost dumb with astonishment and confusion she nodded shyly, he bent
over the baby as Miss Cissy had done, took the mite’s hand in his and,
uncurling the tiny fingers tried to close them around the wonderful
coin, saying, as he did so, and too low for any but Polly to hear;
“There! That’s for your name’s sake, my little woman.”
Polly wanted to jump for joy, but all she could do was to point
silently to the treasure the little Cicely clutched at tightly with her
wee, pink fingers, when her mother came to bear her away. Mrs. Bell
was quite overcome by the baby’s good fortune and found it a difficult
matter to make her way to the door. But she managed it somehow and
nodded again happily and gratefully as Miss Cissy called after her:
“I shall not forget my little namesake, Mrs. Bell. She’ll hear from
me every once in a while and I shall always want to learn how she is
getting along. So, be sure to let me know where she is when you go away
from here.”
The white-capped nurse slipped out with Mrs. Bell and then Hannah,
also, made ready to go, but Miss Cissy detained her.
“I want Mr. Cameron to meet my Polly,” she explained. “I brought him
with me to-day because I knew our patient was sitting up and I was
certain she would not mind seeing a friend of mine.”
“Oh, no indeed!” murmured sister, flushing however a little. But her
shyness melted away in a twinkling for if she had been the greatest
lady in the land Mr. Cameron could not have shown her more deference
and respect.
“Ah, he’s a true gentleman,” the little seamstress thought, and all the
while he sat talking to Polly, she was building beautiful castles in
the air in which a certain lovely young princess named Miss Cicely was
to “live happy ever after” with a certain handsome young prince, her
husband, whose name was--well, whatever Mr. Cameron’s happened to be.
“A penny for your thoughts,” announced Miss Cissy mischievously bending
forward and peering up at sister with eyes full of fun.
Sister’s cheeks flushed guiltily. “Oh, I was just having a pretty
day-dream,” she replied. “I hope it will come true.”
Miss Cicely’s eyes grew soft and bright. “I think I know what the dream
is,” she said, “and I also hope it will come true. I think it will come
true. In fact, I came here to-day to tell you about it, though it is
to be kept a secret from others for a while. But you are a privileged
person and I thought it would interest you and I wanted to say that
when the dream does come true you are to have a part in it, my dear.”
This time it was sister’s eyes that grew soft and bright, seeing which
Miss Cissy began to chatter very fast.
“Don’t you want me to tell you a story?” she asked. “Well, I intend to
do it anyway. Once upon a time there was a dear little uncomplaining
woman who was so dutiful and kind that every one loved and respected
her. She kept her wee bit of a home in apple-pie order and she taught
her little sister to be as dutiful and good and uncomplaining as she
was. It was mighty difficult, I can tell you, to be dutiful and good
and uncomplaining where that little woman lived, for it was in a great
wilderness of a place where there were wolves that it was almost
impossible to keep from the door. But the little woman, by working
early and late, managed to fight them off and she never complained.
Then one day a great, cruel tyrant came and said: ‘Hark, little woman!
My name is Pain. I am going to chain you to this chair. Now will you
complain?’
“But the little woman shook her head. Then as the days grew cold and
bleak a great wolf came and howled hungrily at her door. ‘Let me in!
Let me in!’ And still the little woman shook her head and did not
complain. Then up sprang the small sister crying: ‘I’m not very big to
be sure, but I think I can help keep that wolf from our door if you
will let me try. He’s a great nuisance and ought to be put away. I’m
sure some one will get hurt if he’s allowed to stay where he is, even
if he doesn’t eat us both up beforehand.’
“This was so sensible that the little woman consented to let small
sister take a hand in the fight. She gave her a heart full of courage
and many other splendid weapons for use in such struggles and, do
you believe it? Small sister actually did help to keep that wolf at
a distance. Them one day the story of all this came to the ears of a
person----”
“No, a princess,” corrected sister.
“I’m afraid not,” objected Miss Cicely. “I’m afraid she was only
a person; well, one day the story of all this came to the ears of
a person who said to herself, ‘dear me! these two ladies are just
precisely the ones I have been searching for. They can teach me ever
so many things I don’t know, and if they will only consent to it, I
think I’d like to begin a course of instruction under them at once.’
So she carried them off quite out of the wolf’s reach, for she was a
very strong, athletic person, and watched them closely and little
by little she really did begin to learn of them. Oh, I can’t begin
to tell you the number of things they taught her, but one was to
distinguish between real and make-believe people. Where she lived
there were a great many make-believe people; in fact, she just escaped
being one herself, though please don’t mention it. But as she grew
wiser she learned to tell the difference between the real thing and
the make-believers, and that changed her whole life, for it seemed,
there were two suitors for her hand and as both were dressed exactly
alike she hadn’t been able to tell them apart and hadn’t known at all
which one was real and which only make-believe. But after she had taken
several lessons of the little woman and small sister she searched for
the heart of one of them and, to her horror, found he hadn’t any, that
he was just a poor make-believer dressed up in fine clothes. And then
she searched for the heart of the other and there it was all safe
and sound! the jolliest, biggest, truest one you ever saw, only his
fine clothes hid it from every one who hadn’t clear enough eyes to
see. Well, of course that settled it. The person said: ‘Yes’ to the
real-one-with-the-heart and they are going to live happy ever after,
unless I’m much mistaken. But you needn’t think the story ends there.
The little woman is going to be rescued from her awful tyrant and is
going to be quite free to come and go as she chooses. Then the person
and the real-one-with-the-heart are going to take her with them--over
the hills and far away, and she is to study in books as she longs to
do, and is to hear music and see pictures and grow, oh! very wise and
learned; only, for my part, I don’t believe she can learn anything
better than what she knows already which is to be dutiful and kind and
uncomplaining and--well, that’s the beginning of the end of the story,
and I think it’s almost the best of all.”
By the looks of her, sister did too, for when Mr. Cameron and Polly
managed to glance up from the mazes of the wonderful cat’s-cradle they
were weaving, they were surprised to see the change that had come over
her face. All the traces of pain and care were gone and it was as glad
and as young as Polly’s own.