Part 35 (1/2)

Jasper set down the bag on a chair, and came and stood by his sister's side, looking down at her as she stroked the brown wavy hair on her bosom.

”It's so nice to have Polly here, sister,” he said, and he put his hand on Mrs. Whitney's neck; and then with the other hand took hold of both of Polly's chubby ones, who looked up and smiled; and in that smile the little brown house seemed to hop right out, and bring back in a flash all the nice times those eight happy weeks had brought him.

”Oh, 'twas so perfectly splendid, sister Marian,” he cried, flinging himself down on the floor by her chair. ”You don't know what good times we had--does she, Polly?” and then he launched out into a perfect shower of ”Don't you remember this?” or ”Oh, Polly! you surely haven't forgotten that!” Mrs. Whitney good naturedly entering into it and enjoying it all with them, until, warned by the lateness of the hour, she laughingly reminded Jasper of dinner, and dismissed him to prepare for it.

When the three boys saw Polly coming in again, they welcomed her with a cordial shout, for one and all, after careful measurement of her, had succ.u.mbed entirely to Polly; and each was unwilling that the others should get ahead of him in her regard.

”This is your seat, Polly,” said sister Marian, touching the chair next to her own.

Thereupon a small fight ensued between the little Whitneys, while Jasper looked decidedly discomfited.

”Let Polly sit next to me,” said Van, as if a seat next to him was of all things most to be desired.

”Oh, no, I want her,” said little d.i.c.k.

”Pshaw, d.i.c.k! you're too young,” put in Percy. ”You'd spill the bread and b.u.t.ter all over her.”

”I wouldn't either,” said little d.i.c.k, indignantly, and beginning to crawl into his seat; ”I don't spill bread and b.u.t.ter, now Percy, you know.”

”See here,” said Jasper, decidedly, ”she's coming up here by father and me; that is, sister Marian,” he finished more politely, ”if you're willing.”

All this while Polly had stood quietly watching the group, the big, handsome table, the bright lights, and the well-trained servants with a curious feeling at her heart--what were the little-brown-house-people doing?

”Polly shall decide it,” said sister Marian, laughing. ”Now, where will you sit, dear?” she added, looking down on the little quiet figure beside her.

”Oh, by j.a.ppy, please,” said Polly, quickly, as if there could be no doubt; ”and kind Mr. King,” she added, smiling at him.

”That's right; that's right, my dear,” cried the old gentleman, pleased beyond measure at her honest choice. And he pulled out her chair, and waited upon her into it so handsomely that Polly was happy at once; while Jasper, with a proud toss of his dark, wavy hair, marched up delightedly, and took the chair on her other side.

And now, in two or three minutes it seemed as if Polly had always been there; it was the most natural thing in the world that sister Marian should smile down the table at the bright-faced narrator, who answered all their numerous questions, and entertained them all with accounts of Ben's skill, of Phronsie's cunning ways, of the boys who made fun for all, and above everything else of the dear mother whom they all longed to help, and of all the sayings and doings in the little brown house. No wonder that the little boys forgot to eat; and for once never thought of the attractions of the table. And when, as they left the table at last, little d.i.c.k rushed impulsively up to Polly, and flinging himself into her arms, declared, ”I love you!--and you're my sister!” Nothing more was needed to make Polly feel at home.

”Yes,” said Mrs. Whitney, and nodded to herself in the saying, ”it was a good thing; and a comfort, I believe, has come to this house this day!”

BRAVE WORK AND THE REWARD

And on the very first morrow came Polly's music teacher!

The big drawing-room, with its shaded light and draped furniture, with its thick soft carpet, on which no foot-fall could be heard, with all its beauty and loveliness on every side was nothing to Polly's eyes, only the room that contained the piano!

That was all she saw! And when the teacher came he was simply the Fairy (an ugly little one, it is true, but still a most powerful being) who was to unlock its mysteries, and conduct her into Fairyland itself. He was a homely little Frenchman, with a long, curved nose, and an enormous black moustache, magnificently waxed, who bowed elaborately, and called her ”Mademoiselle Pep-paire;” but he had music in his soul, and Polly couldn't reverence him too much.

And now the big piano gave out new sounds; sounds that told of a strong purpose and steady patience. Every note was struck for mother and the home brood. Monsieur Tourtelotte, after watching her keenly out of his little black eyes, would nod to himself like a mandarin, and the nod would be followed by showers of extra politeness, as his appreciation of her patient energy and attention.

Every chance she could get, Polly would steal away into the drawing-room from j.a.ppy and the three boys and all the attractions they could offer, and laboriously work away over and over at the tedious scales and exercises that were to be stepping-stones to so much that was glorious beyond. Never had she sat still for so long a time in her active little life; and now, with her arms at just such an angle, with the stiff, chubby fingers kept under training and restraint--well, Polly realized, years after, that only her love of the little brown house could ever have kept her from flying up and spinning around in perfect despair.

”She likes it!” said Percy, in absolute astonishment, one day, when Polly had refused to go out driving with all the other children in the park, and had gone resolutely, instead, into the drawing-room and shut the door. ”She likes those hateful old exercises and she don't like anything else.”