Part 14 (1/2)
”Oh, thank you! But I'm not such a little girl as you think: I am nearly ten years old,” said the young lady, as Dan took up Bobby and his cage, and they proceeded up the broad gravelled path to the house; ”and my name is Polly Forester, and--”
”Forester!” blurted out Dan. ”Then I'm on the wrong track. They told me this was the Foster house.”
”Oh, no!” Miss Polly shook her head, that, with its golden brown ringlets, looked very much like a flower itself. ”This has been our house for more than a hundred years. My grandfather lived here, and my great-grandfather and all my grandfathers. One of them fought with George Was.h.i.+ngton; we've got his sword. Would you like to see it?” asked Miss Polly, becoming graciously hospitable as they approached the porch.
”I'm afraid I haven't time,” answered Dan. ”You see, I'm looking for two of our fellows. We're a lot of St. Andrew's boys off for the summer, and the boat is waiting to take us back to Killykinick.”
”Oh, are you staying there?” asked the young lady, with wide-eyed interest. ”I've pa.s.sed it often in dad's yacht.”
”Polly dear!” called a sweet voice, and a grown-up image of that young person came hurriedly out on the porch,--a lovely lady, all in soft trailing white and blue ribbons. ”What is the matter? Your cry woke me out of a sound sleep and put me all in a flutter.”
”O mamma dear, I'm sorry! But it was Bobby. He flew out of his cage when I was trying to teach him to perch on my hand, and got away. He would have gone forever if this nice boy had not caught him for me! His name is Dan Dolan, mamma, and he is staying at Killykinick with a lot of college boys.
Dan is looking for the other boys, who are at the Fosters; and some one told him this was the house, and he came just in time to catch my Bobby under his cap, and--”
”The Fosters?” interrupted mamma, who was used to clearing up things for Polly. ”Probably you are looking for Colonel Foster, who came down last week,” she continued, turning a smiling face to Dan. ”They have rented the Pelham cottage for the summer. You know where that is, Polly?”
”Oh, yes!” answered the little lady, cheerfully. ”You take care of Bobby, mamma, and I'll show Dan the short cut through our garden.”
And she darted ahead through an old-fas.h.i.+oned maze, where tall box hedges were clipped into queer shapes around beds of gay blooming flowers. Then, swinging open a vine-wreathed gate, Dan's little guide led into a steep narrow way paved with cobblestones.
”Pelham cottage is just up there,” she said, ”at the top of Larboard Lane.”
”And here the boys come now!” exclaimed Dan, as the sound of familiar voices reached his ear, and down the lane came a laughing, chattering group,--Minna Foster, and her sister Madge and brother Jack gleefully escorting Jim and Dud back to the boat, and claiming the promises of speedy return to Beach Cliff.
Dan hailed his schoolmates, explained his search and his mistake, and they were all taking their way down the stony path together,--Polly being of the sort to make friends at once with every nice boy or girl within reach.
”Isn't she the cutest thing?” said Minna Foster, who had fallen behind with Dud. ”We have just been dying to know them; but her mother is an invalid, and doesn't go out much, though they are the finest people in Beach Cliff, mamma says. They have lots of money, and the loveliest old home filled with all sorts of beautiful things, and horses and carriages and a big yacht.”
”And Dan Dolan has struck it with them,” said Dud, watching Miss Polly's dancing along loyally by her nice boy's side. ”Dan Dolan! Can't you give them a tip about him.”
”A tip?” echoed Minna, puzzled.
”Yes,” said Dud, his brow darkening. ”People like that don't want to know such low-down chumps as Dan Dolan. Why, he's in St. Andrew's on charity; hasn't got a decent rag to his back except what we give him there; used to s.h.i.+ne shoes and sell papers on the streets. His aunt is in the poorhouse or something next to it; he's just a common tough, without a cent to call his own.”
”Goodness!” gasped Miss Minna. ”Then what is he doing up here with boys like you?”
”Pushed in,” answered Dud, hotly. ”He has enough nerve to push anywhere.
St. Andrew's gives a scholars.h.i.+p at the parochial school, and he won it; and, as he hadn't any place to go this summer, they bunched him in with us. But you can see what he is at one look.”
”Oh, I did,--I did!” murmured Miss Minna. ”I saw at the very first that he was not our sort; but, being with nice boys like you, I thought he must be all right. He isn't bad-looking, and such nerve for a bootblack! Just look how he is making up to little Polly Forester!”
To an impartial observer it would have really seemed the other way. Polly herself was ”making up” most openly to this nicest boy she ever saw.
Tripping along by Dan's side, she was extending a general invitation, in which Dan was specialized above all others.
”I am going to have a birthday party next week, and I want you to come, and bring all the other boys from Killykinick. It's the first party I've ever had; but mamma is feeling better this year, and I'll be ten years old, and she's going to have things just lovely for me,--music and dancing, and ice-cream made into flowers and birds, and a Jack Horner pie with fine presents in it. Wouldn't you like to come, Dan?”