Books: Princess Polly\'s Gay Winter
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Amy Brooks >> Princess Polly\'s Gay Winter
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PRINCESS POLLY'S GAY WINTER
By AMY BROOKS
AUTHOR OF
"Princess Polly," "Princess Polly's Playmates,"
"Princess Polly at School," "Princess Polly by the Sea,"
"Princess Polly at Play," etc.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I MERRY TIMES PROMISED
II THE SEA NYMPH
III GWEN
IV WHAT HAPPENED AT SCHOOL
V A BREATH OF THE SEA
VI A DELIGHTFUL CALL
VII AUNT JUDITH'S PARTY
VIII GYP'S AMBITION
IX A JOLLY TIME
X A HOLIDAY PARTY
XI UNCLE JOHN MAKES A PROMISE
XII AUNT ROSE'S CALL
CHAPTER I
MERRY TIMES PROMISED
Little Rose Atherton sat on the lower step of the three broad ones
that led down from the piazza, and she wondered if there were, in all
the world, a lovelier spot than Avondale.
"And we live in the finest part of Avondale," she said, continuing her
thoughts aloud. "Tho' wherever Uncle John is, seems better than anywhere
else."
She had spent the bright, happy summer at the shore, and surely Uncle
John's fine residence, "The Cliffs," had been a delightful summer home.
Then Uncle John had one morning told a bit of wonderful news.
"I've something to tell you, my little girl," he said, drawing Rose
to him.
"This is our summer home," he continued, "and a fine summer place it
is, but Rose, little girl, we're to spend the coming Winter at
Avondale."
It had been very exciting!
Before closing "The Cliffs," those treasures that Uncle John held
dearest were carefully packed to be sent to the new home, and then,
in the big, luxurious car, they had motored to Avondale.
"Good-bye," Rose had said, as she looked back toward "The Cliffs," and
then, after throwing a kiss toward the house, she nestled back in the
car, and tried, for the twentieth time, to "guess" how the new home
would look.
It had proved to be more grand, more beautiful than she had dreamed.
"And so near sweet Princess Polly," she said, "just the next house but
one."
She sprang from the low step, and ran down to the sidewalk to see if
Princess Polly was yet in sight. "I think it is a little early," she
said, "for Polly said she'd come over at nine, and it isn't nine yet."
The dainty Angora came down the walk to meet her, her tail like a great
plume, her soft coat as fluffy as thistle down. Proudly she walked as
if she knew her beauty.
"Oh, you darling puss!" cried Rose. "You make this new home seem just
as if we'd always lived here."
"That's right, Miss Rose," said the housekeeper, as she looked from
the window.
"A cat does make a place seem homelike. She's not stared about, nor
acted wild as most cats do. She made herself at home, and seemed at
home the first day the captain brought her to you. Do you remember,
Miss Rose, she sprang from the basket, sat down on the rug, and began
to wash her face?"
"I know she did, and that proves that she's a wonderful cat. She
couldn't act like a common cat. Could you, dear?"
The cat rubbed lovingly against Rose.
"We're going to choose a name for her to-day, and Princess Polly is
coming over to help me. Oh, there she comes now!" Rose ran down the
path to meet Polly, the white cat trotting along after her.
"I wanted to bring Sir Mortimer over to get acquainted with her, but
he's just dear, in all but one thing. He isn't _always_ polite to other
cats, and _sometimes_ he's really horrid, and growls so dreadfully
that you'd think he hadn't any manners," said Polly.
"I guess it's just as well," Rose said, "for we'll be pretty busy
choosing a name."
Polly had written a list of fine names, and together they read them,
the white cat sitting and eagerly watching them for a time, and then
playing on the lawn with a ball that was her own especial toy. At last
after reading the list of imposing names again and again, they decided
that, after all, Beauty best suited the lovely creature.
"To think that you are to live here at Avondale again!" Polly said,
when at last the name had been chosen.
"Yes, and to think that there's only one house between yours and mine!"
said Rose.
"You'll be happier in this handsome house with your Uncle John, than
you ever were when you lived here at Avondale before at the little wee
cottage with your Aunt Judith."
"Oh, yes," Rose said quickly, "because _now_ I know that Aunt Judith
loves me, but _then_, I thought she didn't. With Uncle John,--why every
moment since I've lived at his house, I've known that he loved me."
A moment she sat thinking, then she spoke again.
"When I lived here at Avondale before, I lived _all_ the time at the
cottage, but now I'll live here, with dear Uncle John, and go down to
see Aunt Judith, oh, sometimes."
Then she turned to look at her playmate.
"Polly, _Dear_ Polly!" she cried. "You look more like a princess than
when we first called you 'Princess Polly.' Now, who ever thinks of
calling you Polly Sherwood, your real, _truly_ name?"
"Who cares which they call me, so long as they love me?" cried Polly
with a merry laugh.
They were in the garden at the rear of the house, but between trees
and shrubbery they could see a bit of the avenue.
Something moving attracted their attention.
"Look!" cried Rose. "What's _that_?" Polly did look.
Something like a huge wheel, all spokes and hub, but no tire, was
whirling down the avenue.
"It's Gyp!" said Polly.
"What? _That_?" said Rose.
"Yes, that's Gyp, and he's going down the avenue whirling first on his
hands, then on his feet," Polly said.
"Oh, I wish he wasn't in this town," cried Rose, "because no one ever
can guess what horrid thing he'll do next. And he won't stay over by
the woods where he lives. He keeps coming over to this part of Avondale,
and I wonder someone doesn't stop him."
"Who could stop Gyp?" Polly asked.
And who, indeed, could stop him? He was one of a family that was more
than half Gypsy, and Gyp was, surely, the wildest of the clan.
He _would_ steal, yet so crafty was he that no one ever caught him.
He was full of mischief, and nothing delighted him more than the
assurance that he had really frightened someone.
As he usually felt very gay when he had done some especially annoying
bit of mischief, it was safe to say that he had spent a busy morning
somewhere, and now was turning handsprings to give vent to his hilarious
feelings.
"Oh, what _do_ you s'pose he's been doing?" Polly asked.
"I don't know," Rose said slowly, "but I remember that he always acted
just like that when he'd been _very_ naughty."
"Rob Lindsey said yesterday that somebody ought to watch Gyp, and
whenever he seems to feel gay, just look around the neighborhood, and
learn what he has been doing," said Rose.
"You'd have to watch him all the time, then," Polly replied, "for he
always acts as if he felt full of fun, and mischief."
"Then whoever watched Gyp could do nothing else. He wouldn't have a
minute for--oh look!" Rose sprang up on to a low ledge that the gardener
had left showing because of its natural beauty. Flowers grew at its
base, and the little rock, or ledge, rose just enough to show its crest
above the blossoms. Something bright and fair was racing down the
street, as if pursuing Gyp.
It shouted lustily. "You Gyp! You _mean_ old,--oh, I don't know what!"
"Why, that's Gwen Harcourt!" said Polly, "and she's chasing Gyp!"
Like a small whirlwind composed of muslin, lace, and ribbons, Gwen
tore down the avenue, shouting, and screaming as she ran.
She had snatched a handful of gravel just as she started to chase him,
and she hurled the small, round stones after his flying figure.
Not one of them hit him, and as he ran, he looked over his shoulder
to grin like an imp, as he shouted:
"Oh, what a shot! Ye couldn't hit the side of the house!"
That so maddened Gwen, that she forgot to run, and in the middle of
the street, stood stamping her foot, and shrieking.
Of course Gyp was delighted! If he had not frightened her, he had, at
least, the joy of seeing how angry Gwen could be. He vaulted over a
low wall, and carelessly whistling, went at high speed across the lawn,
toward the river, crossed the bridge, and, as usual, hid in the forest
beyond.
Gwen stood, where he had left her, watching him as he hurried away,
and finally disappeared.
"Horrid thing!" she cried. "How I wish I knew of something I could do
to plague him!"
Gwen was quickly angered, but her anger was never long-lived.
She turned toward home.
"_Let_ him run, if he wants to. Who cares? I don't."
Already she was humming a merry tune.
"I read a story yesterday 'bout a house that had a secret closet in
it. 'Twas a fine story, and I guess I'll tell it to the first girl I
meet," she said.
It happened that Rose and Polly were walking down the avenue, on the
way to Sherwood Hall, just as Gwen Harcourt gave up chasing Gyp.
"Hello!" she cried, "I wondered when you'd come to Avondale to live.
How long have you been here?"
"Two weeks," said Rose.
"Why didn't you let me know? I'd have been over to see you long before
this," Gwen replied.
Polly looked at Rose. She knew that Rose was not at all fond of Gwen,
and wondered what reply she would make.
Rose did not have to answer, for Gwen continued:
"Sit down on this wall, and I'll tell you a story. I'll come over to
your house some day this week, but now listen, while we sit here. It's
a story I read yesterday, 'bout a house that had a secret closet, and
ours has one, do you hear?" She leaned forward and pointed her ringer,
first at Polly, then at Rose.
"_Our_ house has a secret closet. Don't you both wish yours had?"
"Why, Gwen Harcourt! What could we do with secret closets?" said Rose.
"The girl in the story I read was locked into the closet by mistake,
and she couldn't get out!" said Gwen, looking quite as excited as if
she were telling something pleasant. Rose moved uneasily, and Polly
shivered.
"Didn't they _ever_ find her?" Polly asked.
"I guess not," said Gwen, "and the funny thing is that the story stopped
right there, so you see I'll never have any idea whether she ever got
out or not."
"Oh, I like _pleasant_ stories," Rose said, as she slipped from the
wall. In an instant Polly stood beside her, and the two turned toward
home, but Gwen had no idea of losing her audience so soon.
"Wait a minute," she cried, "and I'll tell you 'bout the girl that
fell into the ditch, and had to be pulled out by her hair!"
"Oh, _don't_!" cried Polly, and clapping her hands over her ears, she
turned, and ran at top speed, followed by Rose.
They soon outran Gwen, and were glad to rest.
"Did you ever hear such _horrid_ stories?" Polly asked.
"Never!" cried Rose, "unless it was other stories that she told at
other times. There's the one that she made us listen to when we were
over to Lena Lindsey's one day. The one about the ghost that rode down
the main street every night at twelve."
"Oh, I remember," said Polly. "That was the time that Rob Lindsey said
the shivers ran up and down his spine until his back was all _humps_!
He said the shivers had become _chronic_! We laughed at Rob, but even
the funny things he said couldn't drive away the thoughts of the story
that Gwen Harcourt had told."
* * * * * * * *
The bright, sunny days sped as swiftly at Avondale, as they had at the
shore.
Hints of pleasures that already were being planned for the coming
Winter were floating as freely as if the wind carried them, and all
over Avondale, wherever small girls and boys were at play, one might
hear scraps of conversation that told of anticipated pleasures.
Some of the gossip reached Aunt Judith's cottage, and she resolved to
do a bit of entertaining, if not on the grand scale in which her
neighbors indulged, at least in a manner that her little friends would
enjoy.
She laughed softly as she moved about the tiny rooms, and thought of
the quaint, merry party that would at least be original.
"The cottage is small, and so it will have to be a little party, but
we'll call it 'small and select,'" she said.
A light tap at the door, made her turn, and she hastened to open the
screen door, that Rose might enter.
"The fine house, and fine friends don't make you forget your Aunt
Judith, dear," she said.
"Oh, I'll never forget you," Rose said, "and I'll come to see you now
I'm to live so near. To-day I'll sit beside you while you sew. I'll
sit in the little chair that was always mine."
"It is yours now, dear, and, whenever you come, I'll 'play,' as you
and Polly say, I'll 'play' that you are once more living here at the
cottage."
There was news to be told. Uncle John was to have a fine conservatory
built, and later it would be stocked with beautiful flowering plants.
Lena Lindsey was to give a fine party some time during the Winter, and
Leslie Grafton, and her brother Harry had already hinted that there
would be gaiety at their home.
Mrs. Sherwood always gave some sort of party for Princess Polly, and
surely everyone remembered her beautiful party of the Winter before.
All these things she told Aunt Judith.
"And Uncle John says he will not permit his neighbors to do _all_ the
entertaining, and when he says that he laughs," said Rose.
Aunt Judith stopped rocking and sat very straight.
"And _I_ shall entertain in a small way myself," she said.
"Oh, Aunt Judith!" cried Rose, her surprise making her eyes round, and
bright.
"The wee party that I shall give will be in honor of my little niece,
Rose."
Rose laid her warm hand on Aunt Judith's arm.
"How good you are," she said. "And I'll come over the day of the party,
and help you get ready. I'll love to. 'Twill be half the fun. Oh, Aunt
Judith, please tell me what the dear little party is to be like."
"Like a party that I once enjoyed when I was little," Aunt Judith said.
"I remember it as perfectly as if it had occurred yesterday. To repeat
it now will be a quaint delight. I'll not tell you _all_ about it yet,
but when my plans are made, you shall come over here to the cottage,
and I'll tell you every detail. I believe the tiny party will do me
good. I shall feel once more like the little lass that I was when I
received the invitation, and then a week later, dressed in my best,
went to my friend's house. There were twelve guests, and I shall have
just twelve at _my_ party."
CHAPTER II
THE SEA NYMPH
Little Sprite Seaford sat in the first car of the long train, her eyes
bright with excitement, a tear on her cheek, and her red lips quivering.
One little hand nervously clutched her handkerchief, while the other
grasped the handles of her very new suitcase.
She had wound her pretty arms tightly around her mother's neck, kissed
her, oh, so many times, and then, lest her courage fail her, had turned
and fled from the house, where on the beach, she clung to her father's
hand, and silently walked toward the station.
She felt that if she tried to talk she would surely cry, but why was
the sturdy captain so silent? Did he feel, as his little daughter did,
that safety lay in silence? Did he fear to speak lest the tears might
come? It had been decided that Sprite should accept Mr. Sherwood's
invitation, and spend the Winter at Avondale, enjoying the early Winter
months at Sherwood Hall, and the latter part of the season as the guest
of Uncle John Atherton and his little niece, Rose.
She had enjoyed the planning of her modest little wardrobe, she had
talked of the delight of having Rose and Princess Polly for her
playmates all Winter.
She had promised to be a faithful little pupil at school, and she had
dreamed all night, and talked all day of the delightful Winter that
she was to enjoy.
Now, seated in the car, ready to take her first journey from home, she
looked about her with frightened eyes. Captain Seaford stood beside
her. He had bought a box of candy, and a book, trusting that they might
help to cheer her.
He looked down at the little daughter who was so dear to him.
"I'd make the trip with ye, Sprite, but yer ma, I'm thinking, will
need me, 'bout the time she knows yer train has started," he said.
"Oh, she will. You _must_ go back to her," cried Sprite.
The conductor entered and stated that all who were intending to leave
the car must leave at once, or remain on board. Captain Seaford stooped
to kiss the little upturned face.
"Oh, father, dear! If you and mother hadn't worked so hard to get me
ready for the long visit, I'd give it up now. I'd rather go back with
you."
"Tut, tut, Sprite! Be a brave lassie, and try to make the trip bravely.
Ye need the good schooling and the merry playmates. The Winter at the
shore is always dull. Cheer up, now. We're to have a letter, remember,
as soon as ye reach Avondale."
"Ay, ay, sir!" he said, as the conductor beckoned, impatiently, and
with another kiss, and a hasty "Good-bye," he left the car.
Sprite knew that he would stand on the platform, and she turned toward
the window.
Through blinding tears, she saw his stalwart form, and she tried to
smile, for his sake.
Before she could chase away the tears, the train had started, she saw
through her tear-dimmed lashes a blurred landscape, and then,--why she
was actually riding away from her seashore home! For a time she sat,
as if in a dream, and then the conductor came along. Little Sprite
looked up into his pleasant face, and wondered why he paused.
"Let me see your ticket, my dear," he said, and she blushed at her
forgetfulness, and drew it from her pocket.
He punched it, and then, in a gentle, fatherly way, he said:
"Your father, Captain Seaford, is a firm friend of mine. He asked me
to look out for you, and see that you got off the train at Avondale.
He said this was your first bit of travelling alone, but that your
friends would be waiting for you when you arrived."
"They will, oh, they will!" she eagerly cried, "and thinking of that
makes me feel happier. I've never been away alone before."
"I've a little girl at home who is much braver to talk about going
away from home, than she is when the time comes to start. But don't
worry, little Miss Seaford," he said, with a laugh, "for I'll be your
friend all the way to Avondale."
"Oh, thank you," she said, and he thought that he had never seen a
lovelier face. She opened the new book, hoping that the story and the
pictures might make her forget her homesickness. It was evident that
she considered a good book a good friend.
The story held her attention, the picture charmed her, and the box of
candy was an added comfort. She nestled close to the window, her long
golden hair fell over her shoulders, and framed her face, and the old
conductor smiled when he passed down the aisle, and looked at the dear
little figure.
"The book has made her forget to worry," he said, softly.
A little later, when he paused beside her seat, she looked up to smile
at him.
"I keep right on reading," she said, "because if I stop to think, I
remember that all the time I'm going farther away from home."
"Then whenever you look up from the page, just remember that you are
getting nearer, and nearer to Avondale, where you can write your first
letter home," he said in an effort to cheer her.
"Oh, yes," said Sprite, "and I'll do that before I go to sleep to-night,
and post it early to-morrow morning." Then, for a long time, she read
the fascinating story.
Just as she closed the book she realized that the train was slowing
down.
The conductor was coming toward her. What was the brakeman saying?
"The next station will be Avondale!" he shouted, and little Sprite's
heart beat faster.
The conductor stood at her seat now. "I'll take your suit case," he
said. "Come with me."
How her little heart beat!
Would they be at the station? They had promised to be there when the
train arrived.
She could not see from where she stood in the aisle.
Ah, now the train had actually stopped! She was out on the platform!
She was going down the steps. The kindly conductor was saying something
about wishing her a pleasant visit. The train was starting off.
Oh, was she utterly alone?
"Sprite! Oh, you've come!" cried a sweet, familiar voice, and Princess
Polly caught both her hands.
"I was _so_ afraid that something would happen, and you wouldn't come,"
she cried.
"And _I_ was wondering what I'd do if I didn't see you when I left the
car. Oh, _wouldn't_ I have been frightened?" said Sprite, with a nervous
little laugh.
"Oh, how could you think I'd miss coming to meet you? Mamma said the
last moment, as I ran down the steps:
"'I _do_ hope you will find Sprite at the station,' and I _did_," Polly
said. "Now, come over to the carriage, and we'll fly to Sherwood Hall."
"This is my suit case, and, oh, there's my trunk," Sprite said.
"Oh, the coachman will take care of those. We'll get seated so as to
reach home in just no time. I can't wait to take you to mamma."
The color brightened in Sprite's dimpled cheeks.
She was determined not to be homesick, and the ride along the fine
streets, and then up the long avenue, showed such grand residences,
such spacious piazzas, such velvet lawns and gorgeous masses of flowers,
that the sea captain's little daughter began to wonder if she were in
some new country, or at Avondale, where her new friends actually lived.
"Here we are!" cried Polly, as the horse slackened his pace at the
broad gateway, "and this is Sherwood Hall, your new home for the
Winter."
"For _part_ of the Winter!" called a merry voice, and Uncle John
Atherton with Rose beside him in his big motor, laughed gaily as Sprite
turned to learn who greeted her.
For a moment the carriage and the motor stood side by side, while the
three small girls chatted gaily, then, believing that Mrs. Sherwood
and Polly should greet their guest, uninterrupted by neighbor or friend,
Uncle John bowled away down the avenue, they responded to Rose's waving
handkerchief, and then rode up the driveway.
"Oh, what a lovely, _lovely_ house!" cried Sprite, "and what a dear
place to live in. I _know_ I'm to be happy here!"
"Indeed you are!" cried Polly, "and here's mamma."
"Dear little girl," Mrs. Sherwood said, as Sprite stepped from the
carriage, and ran up the steps. "I'm glad to see you, and I shall be
glad indeed to keep you as long as Captain Atherton will permit. He
was over here last evening, and he said that he would let us keep you
up to the first half of the Winter, as we agreed, but after that he
would have you at his home with Rose, if he had to steal you. He
laughed, but he meant it, so see how _very_ welcome you are at
Avondale."
"Oh, it is sweet to have so many people love me," Sprite said,
gratefully, and her eyes were as bright as stars. She was tired with
the long car ride, and with Princess Polly, she sped to her room, there
to make her little self fresh, and fair for dinner.
"We're to share this room, and these two pretty beds are yours and
mine," said Polly.
"We could have had separate rooms, but I wanted you with me, and beside,
mamma said if you were with me, you couldn't be lonesome."
"Oh, I'd rather be with you," said little Sprite, "and what a lovely
room it is!"
She saw every dainty bit of color, every charming detail of the
furnishings, she saw the river as she looked from the windows, and the
vines peeping in at the windows, and she wondered how it had happened
that she now possessed such dear friends, who vied with each other in
making her their little guest.
She opened her suit case, and took from it a pale blue frock, with a
ribbon of the same tint for her hair.
The frock was of soft mull, and its coloring was like that of a pale
aqua marine.
She combed out her long, waving hair, and quickly tied it with the
blue ribbon, then, her hand tightly clasped in Polly's, descended the
stairs.
Arthur Sherwood entered the hall just in time to see the two pretty
figures on the stairway.
"Well, well, and so the little sea nymph has come to live at Sherwood
Hall for a time. My dear little Sprite, I am truly glad to see you."
He took the slender hand that she offered him, and the three chatted
gaily until dinner was served.
The fine dinner, exquisitely served, was a rare treat for Sprite, and
the pleasant evening that followed made her at once feel that she was,
already, a part of the family.
In her room, after the happy evening, Sprite wrote a loving letter to
the dear father and mother at the home by the sea.
She addressed it, and placed the stamp upon it, and then gave it a
place on the dresser where she would surely see it in the morning, and
thus remember to post it.
Princess Polly would liked to have kept awake to talk, but Sprite was
very tired, and soon her answers became so drowsy that Polly knew that
she needed sleep and rest. Little Sprite had been the first to drop
to sleep, but, accustomed to early rising, she was the first to wake.
She slipped from her bed, glanced at Polly, saw that she had not yet
awakened, and quietly began to dress. She had learned, the evening
before, that there was a mail box just across the street, and she now
picked up the letter, and made her way down to the lower hall. The
door stood wide open, only the screen door was fastened.
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