POLLY TRIES TO HELP JASPER.
"I think it was a mean shame," began Dick wrathfully.
"Dick--Dick!" exclaimed his mother gently.
Mr. Whitney tapped his knee with a letter he had just placed within its
envelope, then threw it on the table. "It's the best job I ever did," he
cried jubilantly, "to get Jasper out of that business."
Dick sent his two hands deep within their pockets. "Oh! how can you say
so?" he cried.
"And how can you question what your father does?" exclaimed Mrs.
Whitney. "Why, that isn't like you, Dick!" with a face full of reproach.
"Oh! let the boy say what he wants to, Marian," broke in her husband
easily. "So, Dicky, my lad, you don't think I did just the right thing
for Jasper--eh?"
He leaned back in his chair, and surveyed his young son with a twinkle
in his eye.
"No, I don't," declared Dick, beginning to rage up and down the room on
young indignant feet. "I say it's mean to meddle with a fellow's
business. I wouldn't stand it!" he added stoutly.
Mr. Whitney laughed long and loud, despite his wife's shocked, "Dicky,
don't, dear!"
"Well, if I didn't know that in a year's time Jasper will come to me and
say, 'I thank you!' I should never have gone through with the job in the
world," said his father, when he came out of his amusement. "It isn't
the pleasantest piece of work a man could select, 'to meddle,' as you
call it, with another's affairs."
"Jasper never will thank you in the world--never!" exclaimed Dick,
cramming his irritated hands deeper in their pockets, and turning on his
father.
"You see," said his father, nodding easily.
"And you see, papa," cried Dick, turning hastily in front of him,
looking so exactly like his father that Mrs. Whitney forgot to chide, in
admiring them both.
"And I think it's too bad," went on Dick. "Everybody pitches into
Jasper, and wants him to do things; and Grandpapa is always picking at
him. I'd--I'd fight--sometimes," he added.
"Softly--softly there, my boy," said Mr. Whitney; "you'll have plenty of
practice for all your fighting powers by and by; a fourteen-year-old
chap doesn't know everything."
"Well, I know one thing," declared Dick, more positively, "Grandpapa has
always been meddling with Jasper, and you know it, papa."
"That's because he expects great things from Jasper, and that he will
hold up the King name; we all do," replied his father.
Dick turned on an impatient heel. "And so he would have done, if you'd
let him be a publisher," he declared.
His father laughed again, and leaned out of his chair to pinch his son's
ear, but Dick, resenting this indignity, retreated to a safe position,
declaring, "And I'm going to be one when I'm through college--so!"
[Illustration: "I THINK IT WAS A MEAN SHAME' BEGAN DICK WRATHFULLY.]
"Mr. King's a-coming down the road, and Mr. Jasper!" screamed Mrs.
Higby, coming out suddenly to the porch. "I see 'em from the
keepin'-room window. My! what's the matter with Miss Polly?"
"Nothing," said Polly, opening her eyes; "that is, not much," and
sitting up straight. "Are Grandpapa and Jasper really coming?" she
asked.
"Dear me, Polly," exclaimed Mrs. Cabot, before Mrs. Higby could answer,
and putting shaking hands on Polly's shoulders, "I never was so
frightened in my life! I thought your arm was worse--and you so near
well! O, dear! are you sure you are right?" peering around into her
face. "Here comes Phronsie with the water--that's good!"
Polly took the glass and smiled up reassuringly into Phronsie's troubled
face. "Oh! how good that is, Phronsie," she cried. "There now, I'm all
right. Don't let Grandpapa or Jasper know," and she sprang to her feet,
while Mrs. Higby hurried off to see if her preparations for dinner were
all right, now that Mr. King had come back a day sooner than he wrote he
intended.
"Phronsie, you go and meet them; do, dear," begged Polly; and as
Phronsie ran off obediently, Polly walked up and down the porch with
hasty steps, holding her hands as tightly locked together as the injured
arm would allow. "Oh! if I only had time to think--but I ought to try,
even if I don't say just exactly the right words, for Mr. Marlowe may
not be able to take him back if I wait," and then Grandpapa came
hurrying out with, "Where's Polly?" and she was kissed and her cheeks
patted--he not seeming to notice anything amiss in her--he was so glad
to get back; and through it all, Polly saw only Jasper's face, and,
although everything seemed to turn around before her, she made up her
mind that she would tell Grandpapa just what she thought, and beg him to
change his mind, the very first instant she could.
And so, before the first greetings of the homecoming were fairly over,
Polly, afraid her courage would give out if she waited a moment longer,
put her hand on Mr. King's arm. "What is it, dear?" asked the old
gentleman, busy with Phronsie, who hung around his neck, while she tried
to tell him everything that had happened during his absence; and he
peered over her shoulder into Polly's face.
"Grandpapa," cried Polly in a tremor, "could you let me talk to you a
little just now? Please, Grandpapa."
"Well, yes, dear, after Phronsie has"--
"Oh! Phronsie will wait," cried Polly, guilty of interrupting; "I know
she will."
For the first time in her life, Phronsie said rebelliously, "Oh! I don't
want to wait, Polly. Dear Grandpapa has just got home, and I must tell
him things."
"So you shall, Phronsie," declared old Mr. King, drawing her off beyond
Polly's reach. "There, now you and I will get into this quiet corner,"
and he sat down and drew Phronsie to his knee. "Now, Pet, so you are
glad to get your old Grandpapa home, eh?"
Polly, in an agony at being misunderstood, followed, and without
stopping to think, she threw her arms around Phronsie and cried, "O,
Phronsie! do trust me, dear, and let Grandpapa go. I must see him now!"
Mr. King gave Polly's burning cheeks a keen glance, then he set Phronsie
on the floor abruptly. "Phronsie, see, dear, Polly really needs me.
Come, child," and he gathered up Polly's hand into his own, and marched
out of the room with her.
"Suppose we go in here," said the old gentleman, "and have our talk,"
unceremoniously opening the door of Mrs. Higby's best room as he spoke;
"nobody is likely to disturb us here."
Polly, not caring where she went, but with the words she must speak
weighing heavily on her mind, followed him unsteadily into the parlor,
and while he threw open a blind or two to light up the gloom that
usually hung over Mrs. Higby's best room, she busied herself trying to
think how she should begin.
"There, now, my dear," said Mr. King, coming up to her, and drawing her
off to a big haircloth sofa, standing stiffly against the wall, "we will
sit down here, and then we can go over it comfortably together and
settle what is on your mind," he added, feeling immensely gratified at
the impending confidence.
"Grandpapa," cried Polly in desperation, and springing from the sofa,
where he had placed her by his side, to stand in front of him, "I don't
know where to begin. Oh! do help me." She clasped her hands, and stood
the picture of distress, unable to say another word.
"Why, how can I help you to tell me, child," cried old Mr. King in
astonishment, "when I don't know in the least what it is you want to
say?"
"Oh! I know it," cried Polly, twisting her hands, unable to hold them
quite still. "O, dear! what shall I do? Grandpapa, it's just"--
"Well, what, my dear?" asked the old gentleman, and taking one of her
hands encouragingly. "Are you afraid of me? Why, Polly!"
Polly started at his tone of reproach, and threw her well arm around his
neck, exactly as Phronsie would have done, which so pleased the old
gentleman that it was easier for her to begin again to tell him what was
on her mind. But when she had gotten as far as "It's just this"--she
stopped again.
"Well, now, Polly," said Mr. King, sitting straight on the sofa, with
displeasure, "I must say, I am surprised at you. I should never think
this was you, Polly, never in all the world," which so unnerved her,
that she plunged at once into what she had set herself to do, saying the
most dreadful thing that was possible.
"O, Grandpapa!" she cried, "do you think it can be right to take Jasper
away from his work?"
"Hoity-toity! Well, I must say, Polly," exclaimed the old gentleman in
the greatest displeasure, and rising abruptly from the sofa, brushing
her aside as he did so, "that I never have been so surprised in my life,
as to have you come to teach me my duty. Right? Of course it is--it must
be, if I wish it. I have always looked out for Jasper's good," with that
he walked up and down the parlor, fuming at every step, and looking so
very dreadful, that Polly, rooted to the spot, had only to stand still,
and watch him in despair.
"If you could have seen Jasper, the way he was when I found him," said
Mr. King, tired at last of vituperating, and coming up to Polly sternly,
"you would be glad to have me get him out of the wretched business. It
smelt so of trade, and everybody was grossly familiar; while that Mr.
Marlowe--I have no words for him, Polly. He insulted me."
"Oh!--oh!" cried Polly, with clasped hands and flaming cheeks. "How
could he, Grandpapa? Jasper has always said he was such a gentleman."
"Jasper's ideas of what a gentleman should be, and mine, are very
different," exploded the old gentleman, beginning to walk up and down
the parlor again. "I tell you, Polly, that my boy is sadly changed since
he went into that contemptible trade."
"But Jasper loves his work," mourned Polly, her color dying down.
"Loves his work? Well, he shouldn't," cried Mr. King in extreme
irritation. "It's no sort of a work for him to love, brought up as he
has been. A profession is the only thing for him. Now he studies law"--
"O, Grandpapa!" cried Polly, quite white now, and she precipitated
herself in front of the old gentleman's angry feet, "Jasper just hates
the law. I know, for he has often said so; and if you do fasten him down
all his life to what he don't like, and make him be a lawyer, it will
kill him. He'll do it, Grandpapa"--Polly rushed on, regardless of the
lightning gleam of anger in the sharp eyes above her; and, although she
knew that after this she should never be the same Polly to him as of
old, she kept on steadily--"because you want him to; he'll do anything
to please you, and make you happy, Grandpapa, and he won't say anything,
but it will kill him; it surely will, for he loves his work with Mr.
Marlowe so." Then Polly stopped, aghast at the effect of her words.
"And what am I to do now, pray, to please you?" asked old Mr. King, and
drawing off to look at her quite coldly.
"Oh! nothing to please me," cried poor Polly; "only for Jasper. Do let
him go back to Mr. Marlowe, Grandpapa."
"He shall never go back to Mr. Marlowe with my consent," declared the
old gentleman stiffly, his anger rising again, "and you have displeased
me very much, Polly Pepper, by all this. Now you may go; and remember,
not another word about Jasper and his work. I will arrange everything
concerning him without interference." And Polly, not knowing how crept
out of Mrs. Higby's parlor, and shut the door.
[Illustration: "OH, WHY DID I SPEAK?" CRIED POLLY OVER AND OVER.]
"Polly!" somebody called, as she hurried on unsteady feet over the
stairs to her own little room that she had begged under the farmhouse
eaves. But she didn't even answer, only rushed on, and locked the door
behind her. Then she threw herself on her knees by the bed, and buried
her face in her hands. This was worse than the day so long ago when she
sat in the old rocking-chair in the little brown house, with eyes bound
closely to shut out all outside things; and all of them had been afraid
she was going to be blind. For now she felt sure that she had spoiled
whatever chance there might have been for Jasper. "Oh! why did I
speak--why did I?" she cried, over and over in her distress, as she
buried her face deeper yet in Mrs. Higby's gay patch bedquilt.
After a while--Polly never could tell how long she had staid
there--somebody rapped at the door. It was Phronsie; and she cried in a
grieved little voice, "Polly, are you here? I've been under the
apple-trees--and just everywhere for you. Do let me in."
"I can't now, Pet," cried Polly, trying not to let her voice sound
choked with tears; "you run away, dear; Polly will let you in by and
by."
"Are you sick, Polly?" cried Phronsie anxiously, and kneeling down to
put her mouth to the keyhole.
"No, not a bit," said Polly hastily, and trying to speak cheerfully.
"Really, Polly?"
"Really and truly, Phronsie; there, run away, dear, if you love me."
Phronsie, at this, unwillingly crept off, and still Polly knelt on, with
the wild remorse tugging at her heart that she had been the one to
injure Jasper's prospects for life.
And then the dinner-bell rang, and Polly, who was never known to be late
at a meal, heard Mrs. Higby come out into the hall again, and shake the
big bell till it seemed to fill the whole farmhouse with its noise.
"Oh! I can't go down--I can't!" moaned poor Polly to herself, quite lost
to everything but the dreadful distress at the mischief she had wrought.
And then Phronsie came again, this time imploring, with tears--for Polly
felt quite sure that she could hear her crying--that Polly would only
open the door, "and let me see you just once, Polly!"
And even Mrs. Cabot came, and Polly thought she should go wild to have
her stand outside there and beg and insist that Polly should come down
to them all.
[Illustration: "ARE YOU SICK, POLLY?" CRIED PHRONSIE ANXIOUSLY.]
"I don't want any dinner," said Polly over and over. "I just must be
alone a little while," and at last she spoke quickly to Mrs. Cabot's
persistent pleadings, "Have the goodness, Mrs. Cabot, not to call me
again." And then she was sorry the minute she had spoken the words, and
she opened her door a little crack to call after Mrs. Cabot, as she
sailed downstairs in great displeasure, "Oh! do forgive me, dear Mrs.
Cabot, for speaking so. I am very sorry, but I cannot come down just
yet."
"I shall send you up your dinner, then," said Mrs. Cabot, only half
appeased, and pausing on the stairs.
"No, no!" begged Polly, and she seemed so distressed at the mere
thought, that Mrs. Cabot unwillingly let her have her way about it.
It was in the middle of the afternoon, and Polly, exhausted by weeping,
had fallen asleep just where she was, on her knees by the bed, her head
on the gay bedquilt, when a low knock on the door startled her and made
her rub her eyes and listen.
"Polly," said a voice--it was Jasper's--"won't you undo the door? I want
to speak to you."
"O, Jasper!" cried Polly, springing to her feet, and running over to the
door, "I can't; don't ask me--not just yet."
"I won't ask you again," said Jasper, "if you don't wish it, Polly."
His voice showed his disappointment, and Polly, full of dismay at the
trouble she had made for him, couldn't find it in her heart to cause him
this new worry.
"You won't want to speak to me, Jasper," she cried, unlocking the door
with trembling fingers, "when you know what I have done."
"What, Polly?" he cried, trying not to show how he felt at sight of the
swollen eyelids and downcast face. Meanwhile he drew her out gently into
the hall. "There, let us sit down here," pausing before the wide
window-seat; "it's quiet here, and nobody will be likely to come here."
He waited till Polly sat down, then made a place for himself beside her.
"Jasper," cried Polly, lifting her brown eyes, now filling with tears
again, "you can't think what I've done. I've ruined your whole life for
you!"
"How, Polly?" Jasper's face grew pale to his lips. "Oh! do tell me at
once," yet he seemed to be afraid of what she was about to say.
"O, Jasper! I thought perhaps I could help you. I never knew till this
morning, just before you came, that you had lost your place. Mrs. Cabot
had a letter from her husband, and she told me. And I spoke to Grandpapa
and begged him to let you go back, and, O, Jasper!" here Polly's tears,
despite all her efforts to keep them back, fell in a shower, "you can't
guess how dreadfully Grandpapa feels, and he says--oh! he says that you
are to study law, and never, never go back to Mr. Marlowe."
"Is that all?" exclaimed Jasper in such a tone of relief that Polly
sprang to her feet and stared at him through dry eyes.
"All?" she gasped. "O, Jasper! I thought you loved your work."