POLLY
Wyn Mallory was one of those girls whom people called "different."
Not that there was a thing really odd about her. She was happy, healthy,
more than a little athletic, of a sanguine temperament, and possessed a
deal of tact for a girl of her age.
But there was a quality in her character that balanced her better than
most girls are. That foundation of good sense on which only can be
erected a lasting character, was Wyn's. She was just as girlish and
"fly-away" at times, as Frances Cameron herself, or Percy Havel; but she
always stopped short of hurting another person's feelings and she seemed
to really enjoy doing things for others, which her mates sometimes
acclaimed as "tiresome."
And don't think there was a mite of self-consciousness about all this in
Wyn Mallory's make-up, for there wasn't. She enjoyed being helpful and
kind because that was her nature--not for the praise she might receive
from her older friends.
Wyn was a natural leader. Such girls always are. Without asserting
themselves, other girls will look up to them, and copy them, and follow
them. Whereas a bad, or ill-natured, or haughty girl must have some
means of bribing the weak-minded ones to gain a following at all.
The Mallory family was a small one. Wyn had a little sister; but there
was a difference of twelve years between them. The family was a very
affectionate one, and Papa Mallory, Mamma Mallory, and Wyn all
worshipped at the shrine of little May.
So when at supper that Friday evening something was said about certain
drygoods needed for the little one, Wyn offered at once to spend her
Saturday forenoon shopping.
She had plenty to do that morning; Saturday morning is always a busy
time for any school girl in the upper grades, and Wyn was well advanced
at Denton Academy. But she hastened out by nine o'clock and went down
town.
Denton was a pretty town, with good stores, a courthouse, well stocked
library and several churches of various denominations. In the center was
an ancient Parade Ground--a broad, well-shaped public park, with a huge
flagstaff in the middle of the main field, and Civil War cannon flanking
the entrances.
Denton had a history. On this open field the Minute Men had marched and
counter-marched; and before Revolutionary days, even, the so-called
"train-bands" had paraded here. Like Boston Common, Denton's Parade
Ground was a plot devoted for all time to the people, and could be used
for no other purpose but that of a public park.
The streets that bordered the three sides of the Parade Ground (for it
was of flat-iron shape) were the best residential streets of the town;
yet Market Street--the main business thoroughfare--was only a square
away from one side of the park.
Wyn Mallory on this bright May morning walked briskly along the shaded
side of the park and turned off at Archer Street to reach the main stem
of the town, where the shops stood in rows and the electric cars to
Maynbury had the right of way in the middle of the street.
Her very first call was at Mr. Erad's drygoods and notion store. His
shop was much smaller than some of the modern "department" stores that
had of late appeared in Denton; but the old store held the conservative
trade. Mr. Erad had been in trade, at this very corner, from the time he
was a smooth-faced young man; and now his hair and beard were almost
white.
He was a pleasant, cheerful--and usually charitable--gentleman, with
rosy cheeks and gold-rimmed spectacles. He spent most of his time "on
the floor," greeting old customers, attracting new ones with his
courtesy, and generally overseeing the salesmen.
He usually had a pleasant word and a hand-shake for Wyn when she entered
his store; but this morning the old gentleman did not even notice her as
she came through one of the turnstile doors.
He stood near, however, speaking with a girl of about Wyn's age--a girl
who was a total stranger to the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. The
stranger was rather poorly dressed. She wore shabby gloves, and a shabby
hat, and shabby shoes. Besides, both her dark frock and the hat were
"ages and ages" behind the fashion.
Her clothes were really so ugly that the girl herself did not have a
chance to look her best. Wyn realized that after the second glance. And
she saw that the strange girl was almost handsome.
She was as big as Grace Hedges; but she was dark. Her hair was
beautifully crinkled where it lay flat against the sides of her head
over her ears. At the back there was a great roll, and it was glossy and
well cared-for. Even a girl who cannot afford to dress in the mode can
make her hair beautiful by a little effort.
This girl had made that effort and, furthermore, she had made herself as
neat as anyone need be.
In addition to her beautiful hair, the stranger's other attractions can
be enumerated as a long, well formed nose, well defined eyebrows and
long lashes, and deep gray eyes that looked almost black in the shade of
her broad brow. Her skin was lovely, although she was very much bronzed
by the sun. A rose-flush showed through this tan and aided her red, full
lips to give color to her face. Her teeth were two splendid, perfect
rows of dazzling white; her chin was beautifully molded. This fully
developed countenance was lit by intelligence, as well, and, with her
well rounded figure and gentle, deprecating manner, Wyn thought of her
instantly as a big helpless child.
Mr. Erad was speaking very sternly to her, and that, alone, made Wyn
desire to take her part. She could not bear to hear anybody scold a
person so timid and humble. And at every decisive phrase Mr. Erad
uttered, Wyn could see her wince.
"I cannot do it. I do not see why I should," declared the storekeeper.
"Indeed, there are many reasons why I should not. Yes--I know. I
employed John Jarley at one time. But that was years ago. He would not
stay with me. He was always trying something new. And he never stuck to
a thing long enough for either he--or anybody else--to find out whether
he was fitted for it or not.
"Hold on! I take that back. I guess there's _one_ man in town,"
said Mr. Erad, with almost a snarl, "who thinks John Jarley stuck long
enough on one job."
Wyn, frankly listening, but watching the girl and Mr. Erad covertly, saw
the former's face flame hotly at the shot. But her murmured reply was
too low for Wyn to hear.
"Ha! I know nothing was ever proved against him. But decent people know
the other party, and know that he is square. John Jarley got out of town
and stayed out of town. That was enough to show everybody that he felt
guilty."
"You are wrong, sir," said the dark girl, her voice trembling, but
audible now in her strong emotion. "You are wrong. It was my mother's
ill health that took us into the woods. And the ill-natured gossip of
the neighbors--just such things as you have now repeated--troubled my
mother, too. So father took us away from it all."
"If he was honest, he made a great mistake in running away at that
time," asserted Mr. Erad.
"No, he made no mistake," returned the girl, her fine eyes flashing. "He
did the right thing. He saved my mother agony, and made her last years
beautiful. My father did no wrong in either case, sir."
"Well, well, well!" snapped Mr. Erad. "I cannot discuss the matter with
you. We should not agree, I am sure. And I can do nothing for you."
"Wait, please! give me a chance! Let me work for you to pay for these
things we need. I will work faithfully----"
"I have no place for you."
"Oh, sir----"
"My goodness, girl! _No_, I tell you. Isn't that enough? Beside,
you are not well dressed enough to wait upon my customers. And you could
not earn enough here to pay your board, dress decently, and pay for any
bill of goods that you--or your father--may want."
The girl turned away. There was a bit of dingy veiling attached to the
front of her old-fashioned hat, and Wyn saw her pull this down quickly
over her face. The listener knew _why_, and she had to wink her own
eyes hard to keep back the tears.
She deliberately turned her back upon old Mr. Erad, whom she was usually
so glad to see, and went hastily down the aisle. From her distant
station by the notion counter she saw the drooping figure of the strange
girl leave the store.
Wyn Mallory was worried. She could not see a forlorn cat on the street,
or a homeless dog shivering beside a garbage can, that she was not
tempted to "do something for it."
Dave Shepard often laughingly said that it was an adventure to go
walking with Wyn Mallory, One never knew what she was going to see that
needed "fixing." And Dave might have added, that if Wyn had him for
escort, she usually got these wrong things "fixed."
She now hastened through her purchasing, not with any definite object in
view, save that she wanted to get out of the store. Mr. Erad was not at
all the nice, charitable man whom she had always supposed him to be.
That is, it looked so now to the impulsive, warm-hearted girl.
Her mind was fixed upon the strange girl and her troubles. Wyn did not
neglect the errand her mother had given her to do, although she hurried
her shopping.
When she was out of the store, she drew a long breath. "I couldn't
breathe in that place--not well," she told herself. "I wonder where that
poor girl has gone now?"
There was nobody to answer her, nor was the strange girl in sight. Wyn
felt rather remorseful that she had not let her shopping wait and
followed the strange girl out of the store immediately.
The stranger might have been in desperate straits. Wyn could not imagine
anybody begging for goods, and for work, especially after the way Mr.
Erad had spoken, unless in great trouble.
Wyn began to take herself seriously to task. The strange girl had
disappeared and she had not even tried to help her, or comfort her.
"I might have gone out and offered some little help, or sympathy. How do
I know what will become of her? And she may have no friends in town. At
least, it is evident that she does not live here."
There were several other errands to do. All the time, especially while
she was on the street, she kept her eye open for the strange girl whose
name she presumed must be "Jarley."
[Illustration: "MY DEAR, I WILL BE YOUR FRIEND." _Page 30._]
But Wyn did not see her anywhere, and it seemed useless to wander down
Market Street looking for her. So, when she had completed her purchases,
she turned her face homeward.
She went up past Mr. Erad's store again and turned through Archer
Street. As she crossed into the park she looked for a settee to rest on,
for unconsciously she had walked more briskly than usual.
There, under a wide-limbed oak, was a green-painted seat, removed from
any other settee; but there was a figure on it.
"There's room for two, I guess," thought Wyn; and then she made a
discovery that almost made her cry out aloud. Its occupant was the very
girl for whom she was in search!
Wyn controlled her impulse to run forward, and approached the bench
quite casually. Before she reached it, however, she realized that the
dark girl was crying softly.
Natural delicacy would have restrained Wyn from approaching the girl so
abruptly. Only, she was deeply interested, and already knowing the
occasion for her tears, the captain of the Go-Ahead Club could not
ignore the forlorn figure on the bench.
Without speaking, she dropped into the seat beside the strange girl, and
put her hand on the other's shoulder.
"My dear!" she said, when the startled gray eyes--all a-flood with
tears--were raised to her own. "My dear, tell me all about
it--_do_! If I can't help you, I will be your friend, and it will
make you feel lots better to tell it all to somebody who sympathizes."
"Bu-but you ca-can't sympathize with me!" gasped the other, looking into
Wyn's steady, brown eyes and finding friendliness and commiseration
there. "You--you see, you never knew the lack of anything good; you're
not poor."
"No, I am not poor," admitted Wyn.
"And I don't want charity!" cried the strange girl quickly.
"I am not going to offer it to you. But I'd dearly love to be your
friend," Wyn said. "You know--you're so pretty!" she added, impulsively.
The girl flushed charmingly again. "I--I guess I'm not very pretty in my
old duds, and with my nose and eyes red from crying."
But she was really one of those few persons who are not made ugly by
crying. She had neither red eyes nor a red nose.
"Do tell me what troubles you," urged Wyn, patting her firm, calloused
hand.
Those hands were no soft, useless members--no, indeed! Pretty as she
was, the stranger had evidently been in the habit of performing arduous
manual labor.
"Where do you live, my dear?" asked Wyn, again, as her first question
was not answered.
"Up beyond Meade's Forge," said the strange girl.
"Oh, my! On Lake Honotonka?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Please don't _ma'am_ me!" cried the captain of the Go-Ahead Club.
"My name is Wynifred Mallory. My friends all call me Wyn. Now, I want
you to be my friend, so you must commence calling me Wyn right away."
"But--but you don't know me," said the other girl, hesitatingly.
"I am going to; am I not?" demanded Wyn, with her frank smile. "Surely,
now that I have confided in you, you will confide in me to the same
extent? Or, don't you like me?"
"Of course I like you!" exclaimed the still sobbing girl. "But--but I do
not know that I have any right to allow you to be my friend."
"Goodness me! why not?" exclaimed Wyn.
"Why--why, we have a bad name in this town, it seems," said the other.
"Who have?" snapped Wyn, hating Mr. Erad harder than ever now.
"My father and I."
"What have you done that makes you a pariah?" exclaimed Wyn, fairly
laughing now. "Aren't you foolish?"
"No. People say my father was not honest I am Polly Jarley," said the
girl, desperately.
"Polly Jolly?" cried Wyn. "Not much you are! You are anything but jolly.
You are Polly Miserrimus."
"I don't know what that means, ma'am----"
"Wyn!" exclaimed the other girl, quickly.
"M--Miss Wyn."
"Not right. Just Wyn. Plain Wyn----"
"Oh, I couldn't call you plain," cried the poorly dressed girl, with
some spontaneity now. "For you are very pretty. But I don't really know
what Mis--Mis----"
"'Miserrimus'?'"
"That is it."
"It's Latin, and it means miserable, all right," laughed Wyn. "And you
act more to fit the name of 'Polly Miserrimus' than that of 'Polly
Jolly.'"
"It's Jarley, Miss Wyn."
"But now tell me all about it, Polly," urged Wyn, having by this means
stopped the flow of Polly's tears. "Surely it will help you just to free
your mind. And don't be foolish enough to think that I wouldn't want to
know you and be your friend if your poor father was the biggest criminal
on earth."
"He isn't! He is unfortunate. He has been accused wrongfully, and
everybody is against him," exclaimed Polly, with some heat.
"All right. Then let's hear about it," urged Wyn, capturing both of the
other girl's hands in her own, and smiling into her tear-drenched gray
eyes.