Polly of Lady Gay Cottage. Dowd Emma C.
forget!” cried Leonora. “That lovely rose-bud sash you gave me was the prettiest thing I ever had to wear in all my life! And was that really the day you first knew about it?”
Polly nodded.
“Queer!” Leonora went on. “There we both went to the hospital, you hurted so awful bad nobody s’posed you’d get well, and I so lame that even Dr. Dudley thought I’d never walk straight! And now – my! ain’t it queer? We’re adopted by the nicest folks, and I don’t limp a mite! Just see how good I can walk!”
She skipped off gleefully, falling into a slow, regular pace across the room.
“That’s beautiful!” praised Polly. “And it doesn’t hurt you now, does it?”
“Not a bit! Oh, it’s so splendid that Dr. Dudley cured me! – why, there’s David! No, don’t go!” as Polly sprang up. “It isn’t school time yet.”
The girls ran to the door, Leonora clutching her friend’s arm, as if resolved not to let her escape.
“Your mother told me you were here,” David began.
“She didn’t tell you I was goin’ to your school, did she?” laughed Leonora.
“No! Honest?”
“Yes, honest!” they chorused mischievously.
“There’s something up!” David’s head wagged knowingly. “What is it?”
He looked from Leonora to Polly, and back again.
Then the delightful news could not be kept a minute longer, but bubbled forth from Leonora’s lips, until the three were soon in a torrent of merry talk.
David’s interest fully satisfied the girls, which is saying much for it; but the clock ticked steadily on, regardless of adoptions, new clothes, and ponies. Happily there was a chance look across the room, which hurried Polly and David away to school and sent Leonora up to the convalescent ward to make ready for her drive with Mrs. Jocelyn.
CHAPTER III
A WHIFF OF SLANDER
Within a few days the little girl, who on the occasion of the ward’s anniversary had been afraid to speak to her beautiful benefactor, found herself established in the stately old house on Edgewood Avenue, and calling the same charming lady “mother.”
On the morning that Mrs. Jocelyn’s man drove her across the city to the private school which Polly and David attended, she was almost too joyfully excited for comfort. To think that one of her most cherished dreams was actually coming true!
Polly introduced her as, “My friend, Leonora Jocelyn,” which made the little dark face pink with pleasure, and nearly caught away the remnant of her self-possession.
The girls and boys received her with polite attention or gushing cordiality, and she was beginning to calm into something like sober happiness when Ilga Barron appeared.
Ilga was short and plumpy, with pincushion legs, and feet that were trained to dancing. The skirt of her dress was as brief as compatible with fashion, and she swung it with a superior air which abashed the meeker of her schoolmates. She greeted the new pupil with a nod and a stare.
“What’s your father’s business?” was her abrupt inquiry.
“I haven’t any father,” Leonora answered gently.
“Oh! Where do you live?”
“On Edgewood Avenue.”
“Up opposite Edgewood Park?”
“Yes.”
“I thought that Mrs. Jocelyn hadn’t any children,” scowled Ilga.
“She has just adopted me,” Leonora explained shyly.
“Oh!”
That was all, accompanied by a little toss of the head. Then Ilga whirled away, calling on her favorite mate to follow.
Leonora’s face grew distressfully red, and her soft eyes suddenly brimmed.
For an instant Polly stood dazed; but quickly she commanded her scattered wits.
“There’s Lilith Brooks! I want you to know her, she is so sweet! Come, Leonora!” She threw her arm around her friend, and drew her away from the embarrassed group.
“You mustn’t mind Ilga!” she whispered. “Nobody does!”
Yet all that morning the impertinence of Senator Barron’s only daughter occupied more of Polly’s mind than her lessons, and at recess her indignant thoughts sprang into words. She went straight to where Ilga was entertaining two of her chosen intimates with chocolate creams.
“What did you mean by treating Leonora so rudely?” demanded Polly, threatening sparks in her usually gentle eyes. “She is my friend, and I wish to tell you that you mustn’t ever act like that to her again!”
Ilga’s box of sweets stopped on its polite way to the new-comer.
“Huh!” sneered the owner of it, “if you think you are going to order me round, you’re mistaken! I guess I shan’t associate with every tramp that comes along – so there, Polly Dudley!”
“Leonora isn’t any more of a tramp than you are!” Polly burst out hotly.
“No, she isn’t – ‘than you are!’” retorted Ilga, with sarcastic emphasis and a disagreeable laugh.
Polly’s eye blazed. She clinched her little fists.
“And you are too contemptible to – talk with!” she cried scornfully, and whirled away.
But Ilga’s instant rejoinder seemed to retard her feet, for she was conscious of walking slowly, missing none of the words that bit into her sensitive heart.
“Oh! I am, am I? Well, you are a regular nobody! You put on airs just because Dr. Dudley adopted you; but he isn’t anybody! He wouldn’t stay at the hospital for that little bit of a salary if he was. He can’t get a place anywhere else – he’s a no – body!”
Ilga knew her victim well enough to realize that any taunt flung at the adored father would rebound upon his daughter with double force, and she winked exultingly to her companions as Polly made no attempt at retort, but went straight to her desk and bent her white, drawn little face over her speller. It would have given her an added delight if she had known that the book was upside down and its print blurred by a mist of tears.
At the close of a session Polly usually waited for David; but this noon she hurried on alone, and he overtook her only after a quick little run.
“This is great, to go off and leave a fellow!” he grumbled pleasantly.
“Oh, excuse me!” she replied. “I forgot.”
“Forgot!” he began laughingly, but stopped. Her gravity did not invite humor.
He wondered what had gone wrong, but was wise enough to ask no questions. After an ineffectual attempt at talk, they fell back into silence, separating at the cottage entrance with sober good-byes.
The kitchen door was unlocked, and Polly walked slowly through the house, longing yet dreading to meet her mother. Down the stairway came the sound of voices. She stopped to listen.
“Oh, dear! – Miss Curtis!” she sighed, and turned towards the little library.
Although since the recovery of Elsie’s birthday ring the nurse had been unusually kind and friendly, Polly could not help remembering that she had once believed her to be the cause of its mysterious disappearance, and just now it seemed impossible to meet her with composure. So she curled up forlornly in her father’s big chair, hastily grabbing a book as an excuse for being there.
The story was one she had never read, and its interest was proved in that time and troubles were soon forgotten. Thus her mother found her, and thanks to the respite from Ilga’s haunting words she was able to respond to the visitor’s greeting with something of her usual happy humor.
Dr.