Part 15 (1/2)

And that night when Polly was in bed, and Mother Fisher came into her room and Phronsie's, which opened into her own, to say ”Good night,”

Polly turned on her pillow. ”Mamsie,” she said, ”I do so very much wish that we could send a box to the Henderson boys. They must be so homesick for their mother and father.”

Mrs. Fisher stopped and thought a bit, ”A very good idea, Polly,” she said, ”and I'm glad you thought of it. I'll speak to your father and see if he approves, before we say anything to Mr. King.”

”You see,” said Polly, rolling over to get hold of one of Mother Fisher's hands, and speaking very fast, ”of course the Henderson boys are having a good time at dear Deacon Blodgett's, but then their mother and father are away off. Oh, Mamsie!” She reached over and threw both arms around her mother and hugged her tightly.

”Yes, I know, Polly,” said Mother Fisher, holding her big girl to her heart, ”and we must look out for other people's boys; that's what you mean to say, isn't it?”

”Yes,” said Polly, happy that Mamsie always understood, ”and now that Ben's and Joel's and David's box is off, why, I wish we could, Mamsie, send the other one.”

”I really think it can be done,” said Mrs. Fisher, ”but I must ask your father first. And now, daughter, go to sleep, like Phronsie.” She glanced over at the other little bed, where Phronsie's yellow head was lost in dreams.

”You know we are going to Marken tomorrow.”

”I know,” said Polly, with a happy little wriggle under the bedclothes.

”And it never would do for you to be all tired out in the morning. That would be very unkind to dear Mr. King, who is trying so hard to make us all happy,” continued Mrs. Fisher.

”I know,” said Polly, again. ”Well, good night, Mamsie.” She set three or four kisses on Mother Fisher's cheek, then turned over, with her face to the wall.

”I'll shut the door until you get to sleep, Polly,” said Mrs. Fisher, ”then I will open it again,” as she went out.

As Mother Fisher had said, they were going to the Island of Marken to-morrow; and Polly tumbled asleep with her head full of all the strange things they were to see there, and that Jasper and she had been reading about,--how the people wore the same kind of funny costume that their great-great-ever-so-many-times great-grandfathers and grandmothers had worn; and how the houses were of different colours, and built in different layers or mounds of land, with cunning little windows and scarcely any stairs; and how they were going in the haying season when everybody would be out raking up and gleaning--and--and--Polly was completely lost in her happy dreams.

Somebody seemed to be pulling her arm. What! Oh, she remembered they were going to Marken, and she must hurry and get her bath and fly into her clothes. ”Yes, Mamsie!” she cried, flying up to sit straight in the bed. ”I'll get right up and dress; oh, won't we have fun!”

”Polly,” said Mother Fisher. She had on a dressing-gown, and her black hair was hanging down her back. She looked pale and worried; Polly could see that, although she blinked at the sudden light. ”It isn't morning, but the middle of the night. You must get up this minute. Pull on your shoes; don't stop for stockings, and slip into your wrapper.

Don't ask questions,” as Polly's lips moved.

Polly obeyed with an awful feeling at her heart. She glanced at Phronsie's little bed; she was not there! Mrs. Fisher threw the pink wrapper over her head; Polly thrust her arms into the sleeves, feeling as if she were sinking way down. ”Now come.” And Mamsie seized her hand and hurried her through her own room without another word. It was empty. Father Fisher and Phronsie were nowhere to be seen. And now for the first time Polly was conscious of a great noise out in the corridor. It seemed to spread and fasten itself to a number of other noises, and something made Polly feel queerly in her throat as if she should choke. She looked up in her mother's eyes, as they sped through the room.

”Yes, Polly,” said Mother Fisher, ”it is fire. The hotel is on fire; you will be brave, my child, I know.”

”Phronsie!” gasped Polly. They were now in the corridor and hurrying along.

”She is safe; her father took her.”

”Oh, Mamsie, Jasper and Grandpapa!”

”They know it; your father ran and told them. Obey me, Polly; come!”

Mrs. Fisher's firm hand on her arm really hurt Polly, as they hurried on through the dense waves of smoke that now engulfed them.

”Oh, Mamsie, not this way; we must find the stairs.” But Mrs. Fisher held her with firmer fingers than ever, and they turned into a narrower hall, up toward a blinking red light that sent a small bright spark out through the thick smoke, and in a minute, or very much less, they were out on the fire-escape, and looking down to hear--for they couldn't see--Jasper's voice calling from below, ”We are all here, Polly,” and ”Be careful, wife, how you come down,” from Dr. Fisher.

”Oh,” cried Polly, as the little group drew her and Mamsie into their arms, ”are we all here?”

”Yes, Polly; yes, yes,” answered Jasper. And ”Oh, yes,” cried old Mr.

King, his arm around Phronsie, ”but we shouldn't have been but for this doctor of ours.”