Part 16 (1/2)

”Attaboy!” approved Ned. ”What are you going to do, Polly?”

”I'm learning stenography and typewriting, and Mr. Farmer, the lawyer,-he's the one who got the others to let Mother have the house when Uncle Peter's estate was settled,-says he will find a place for me in his office. He's awfully nice. Some stenographers make lots of money, don't they?”

”I guess so,” Ned agreed. ”There's a woman in Dad's office who gets eighteen dollars a week.”

Polly clasped her hands delightedly. ”Maybe I wouldn't get that much, though. I guess Mr. Farmer doesn't pay his stenographer very high wages.

Maybe I'd get twelve dollars, though. Don't you think I might?”

”Sure!” said Laurie. ”Don't you let any one tell you any different.

Didn't folks think that your Uncle Peter left more money than was found, Polly?”

”Oh, yes; but no one really knew. The lawyers looked everywhere. If he did have any more, he must have hidden it away pretty well. They looked all through the house and dug holes in the cellar floor. It was very exciting. Mother thinks he lost what money he had speculating in stocks and things. He used to go to New York about four times a year. No one knew what he did there, not even Hilary; but Mother thinks he went to see men who deal in stocks and that they got his money away from him.”

”Who is Hilary?” Laurie inquired.

”Hilary was a colored man that Uncle had had a long time. It seemed to me that if Uncle had had much money, Hilary would have known about it; and he didn't.”

”Where is he now? Hilary, I mean,” added Laurie, somewhat unnecessarily.

”I don't know. He went away a little while after Uncle Peter died. He said he was going to New York, I think.”

”You don't suppose he took the money with him, do you? I mean-”

”Oh no!” Polly seemed quite horrified. ”Hilary was just as honest as honest! Why, Uncle Peter died owing him almost forty dollars and Hilary never got a cent of it! The lawyers were too mean for anything!”

”There's a fellow named Starling living there now,” Laurie said. ”His father's rented the house for three years. Bob says that he's going to find the money and give it to your mother.”

Polly laughed. ”Oh, I wish that he would! But I guess if the lawyers couldn't find it he never will. Lawyers, they say, can find money when n.o.body else can! Is he nice?”

”Bob? Yes, he's a dandy chap. You ought to know him, Polly; he's your next-door neighbor.”

”Back-door neighbor, you mean,” interpolated Ned.

”I think I saw him in the garden one day,” said Polly. ”His father is an engineer, Mae Ferrand says, and he's building a big bridge for the railway. Or maybe it's a tunnel. I forget.”

”Is Mae Something the girl with the mola.s.ses-candy hair you were with at the high school game?” Laurie asked.

”Yes, but her hair isn't like mola.s.ses candy. It's perfectly lovely hair. It's like-like diluted suns.h.i.+ne!”

Laurie whistled. ”Gee! Did you get that, Neddie? Well, anyway, I like dark hair better.”

”Oh, I don't! I'd love to have hair like Mae's. And, what do you think, she likes my hair better than her own!”

”Don't blame her,” said Laurie. ”What do you say, Ned?”

”I say I've got to beat it back and get into football togs. What time is it?”

”Look at your own watch, you lazy loafer. Well, come on. I say, Polly, would your mother let you go to the game with me Sat.u.r.day? That is, if you want to, of course.”