The Project Gutenberg eBook of Playmate Polly
    
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Playmate Polly

Author: Amy Ella Blanchard

Illustrator: Elizabeth Otis

Release date: May 27, 2024 [eBook #73707]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Hurst & Company

Credits: David Edwards, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYMATE POLLY ***





_PLAYMATE POLLY_

[Illustration: Elizabeth Otis]




  _PLAYMATE POLLY_

  BY
  AMY E. BLANCHARD

  _Author of “Little Miss Oddity,” “Little Miss Mouse,” “Little
  Sister Anne,” “Mistress May,” etc._

  NEW YORK
  HURST & COMPANY
  PUBLISHERS




  Copyright, 1909, by
  GEORGE W. JACOBS AND COMPANY
  _Published June, 1909_

  _All rights reserved_
  Printed in U. S. A.




_CONTENTS_


     I. UP HILL AND DOWN                         9

    II. PLAYMATE POLLY                          27

   III. THE NEIGHBOR OF THE YELLOW HOUSE        43

    IV. AUNT BETTY                              61

     V. A NEW PET                               77

    VI. A MYSTERY                               93

   VII. TAKING PILLS                           111

  VIII. DAPPLE GRAY                            129

    IX. THE GRAY KITTEN                        149

     X. ACROSS WATER                           167

    XI. WHO TOOK THE SPOONS?                   185

   XII. WHAT WAS FOUND OUT                     203




_CHAPTER I_

_Up Hill and Down_




_CHAPTER I_

_Up Hill and Down_


When Jessie started out in the morning to school, she began at the gate
to say to herself, “Bridge, Railroad, Hill,” and when she started home
again if she came alone, it was “Hill, Railroad, Bridge.” Home was at
one end of the journey; school at the other; Bridge, Railroad and Hill
were the stations between, Jessie told herself. If she were reasonably
early, she would stop on the bridge and peep over at the running water.
At the railroad she seldom stopped except to say good-morning to Ezra
Limpett who sat outside his little box of a house on sunny days, and
inside it on rainy ones. He always held out the red flag to show the
engineer, when the trains went whizzing by. Once, when the train was
behind time, he had allowed Jessie to hold the fluttering flag, but
that was on her way home, and he had said she must never cross till the
train had passed. It was on account of Ezra that Jessie was allowed to
go to the Hill school, for he never failed to be at his post watching
for her, and Jessie’s father knew she would be perfectly safe in
crossing the track because Ezra was there. Of course, it was pleasanter
to come from school than to go to it, not only because it was down hill
and home was at the far end of the way, but because Effie Hinsdale
could come nearly as far as the railroad with her, and a companion
always makes the distance seem shorter. Furthermore, there was time
then to loiter, unless one felt very hungry, though loitering meant
a talk with Ezra about the engines and the trains. The engines were
always spoken of as _her_ and _she_ and were known by their numbers.

One day when Jessie was about to skip across the railroad ties, she
heard Ezra call out: “Better wait a bit. 589 ain’t came along yet.
She’s late to-day by ten minutes, and she’s due just about now.”

“Will you let me hold the flag?” said Jessie, turning aside.

Ezra nodded. “Hold her good and tight, and don’t stand too near. She’ll
go kitin’ to-day because she’s behind time. Here, stand on this stone
and I’ll hold on to ye. That’s her whistle now, so up with ye.”

Jessie scrambled upon the stone and gripped the flag tightly, while
Ezra took a firm hold upon her. The train was in sight in a second, and
almost before she could wink, it went flying by, scattering the dust
and causing Jessie’s skirts to flutter in the breeze it made. It was
very exciting, though it was something of a relief to see the tail end
of the train disappear down the track.

“Wouldn’t like to be in her way, would ye?” said Ezra, helping the
little girl down.

“Indeed, I wouldn’t,” replied Jessie decidedly. “Do you like better to
be inside your funny little house, Ezra, or outside it?”

“That depends. Wet days I’m glad to be in; sorter cozy with a fire and
my pipe going. ’Tain’t very big, but it’s fair enough shelter, and it
ain’t as if I hadn’t a roomier place to actually live in. I don’t have
it so very bad, for there ain’t no night trains and I can get home
and have my night’s rest. I’m always in by nine, for there ain’t no
trains after six. If this was a big trunk line now, the trains would be
chugging by all night.”

“Then don’t the conductors and engineers ever sleep?”

“Some of ’em mighty little. There’s hard tales about how they’re
worked. Folks all well?”

“Yes, thank you,” returned Jessie, picking up her books which she had
dropped on the ground, and being reminded by Ezra’s remark that she
must not stay too long. “I reckon I’d better be going now; mother might
be worrying about me.”

Ezra nodded. “That’s right. Days gettin’ kinder short, too. You won’t
get home much before sundown, come winter.”

“Won’t I?” Jessie had not thought of this. “I’ll always have to hurry
then.”

“And you won’t find me settin’ out in the cold so over often,” said
Ezra.

“Good-bye,” said Jessie.

Ezra nodded and waved a stubby hand as if to a departing train, while
Jessie ran across the track and took up the last part of her accustomed
chant. Hill and Railroad were passed, so there was only Bridge left.
“Bridge, Bridge, Bridge, Bridge,” she whispered, keeping time to her
pace, and very soon Bridge, too, was left behind and she was within
sight of the lane, the house, the barn, and, last, her mother’s anxious
face at the window.

“You’re late, dear,” said Mrs. Loomis, as the little girl came into the
sitting-room.

“Yes,” returned Jessie. “589 was behind time and Ezra wouldn’t let me
come till she had passed. He let me hold the flag. I like the train to
be late for it is exciting to have her go by so fast it almost takes
your breath.”

“I don’t like it to be late,” replied Mrs. Loomis, “for I always feel
anxious about you till you get home. If Ezra were not there, and if I
didn’t know we could absolutely depend upon him to watch out for you, I
don’t know what we should do.”

“What do you think you would do?” asked Jessie. “Would you or father
have to come for me? Would you have to do that?”

“No, we couldn’t do that very well. We should have to send for you,
probably, or else keep you from school altogether.”

“I’d like that,” said Jessie in a satisfied tone.

“You’d like to grow up a silly little dunce?” returned her mother,
“and not know how to read or write? Would you like Max and Walter to
come home from school and be ashamed of their little sister?”

“Oh, no,” Jessie was quite sure she would not. “But,” she said after
a moment’s thought, “everybody doesn’t have to go to school. Cousin
Lillian does not. I could have a governess.”

“That is what you would have to have, though it would be rather
expensive. The boys have to go away to school and it costs a good deal
for them. But we’ll not bother over the question while Ezra is on hand,
for now it is perfectly safe for you to go to the Hill school.”

“Suppose something should happen to Ezra,” said Jessie, persistently
following up the subject. “I should hate anything to happen to him, but
if it should, and another man were to take his place, then would I have
to stop going to school?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, child. We won’t discuss it now. It will be time
enough when such a thing happens.” And Mrs. Loomis went out, leaving
Jessie standing by the window.

Jessie stood for a few minutes looking out and then she, too, left the
room. It was time to feed the chickens and after that her father would
be coming in. The corn had been harvested and stood stacked in the
fields. Jessie thought the stacks looked very much like Indian wigwams
and she pictured to herself her terror if they really were such.
However, the terror was not very keen and was soon forgotten when she
reached the spot where the fowls were jostling one another and pecking
eagerly at the corn Minerva was scattering on the ground. Minerva was
the servant who had lived in the family ever since she was a little
girl. She was very fond of Jessie and the two often had long talks
about the chickens, the pigeons, the ducks and the turkeys.

“There’s two young turkeys missing,” said Minerva as Jessie appeared.
“After I get through here you can go ’long with me if you like and look
’em up. You’re a right good hand for spying ’em out and they do beat
everything for wandering.”

“I believe I know where they are,” Jessie told her. “I shouldn’t wonder
if they were over there where the mountain cherries grow. I’ve seen
them there lots of times.”

“Then that’s where we’ll look for ’em,” said Minerva, scattering
another handful of corn. “They’re big enough now not to care much about
being with the old ones, and I have to keep an eye on ’em.”

“Have you fed the young chickens yet?” asked Jessie. “How fast they
do eat, Minerva. Look at that great piggy rooster driving away that
smaller one. I never did like that old yellow fellow, anyhow.”

“He is kind of greedy,” agreed Minerva. “No, I haven’t fed the young
chickens. You can mix the meal if you like. Don’t make it too wet like
you did last time. Mrs. Speckle is a little droopy; she don’t take her
food well at all. She’s such a good layer, I hope there’s nothing wrong
with her.”

Jessie moved away to get the meal. Two measures of it she carefully
piled up in the tin box which she found in the bin. This she emptied
into a pan and then she poured in a little water at a time, stirring
it with a spoon at first, and then with her whole hand. She liked the
operation, and was so interested in squeezing the wet meal that Minerva
finally had to call her.

“If you’re going to help me hunt those turkeys, you’d better hurry with
that meal,” she said.

Jessie carried the tin pan to the enclosure where the young chickens
were making a great fuss, poking their heads between the slats and
peeping anxiously. But their peeping soon stopped as Jessie scattered
little dabs of the food on the ground. “Don’t gather the eggs till I
come,” she called to Minerva whom she saw searching the nests.

“Obliged to,” returned Minerva, “or there’ll be no time to look up the
turkeys. It gets dark so much sooner these days, you know.”

With one swoop of the wooden spoon Jessie swept the rest of the meal
into a pile on the ground, set down the pan and joined Minerva. “How
many are there to-day?” she asked.

“Ten, so far.”

Jessie climbed upon a box and peered into a corner. “There are two more
here,” she said. “Shall I take them?”

“If you’re careful not to break them,” Minerva told her.

Jessie gently lifted one egg at a time and put it in the basket
Minerva carried. “That makes a dozen,” she said.

“And here’s another in this nest,” Minerva went on. “Old Posy is laying
again, I expect.”

This was the last egg found, and the two left the hen-house. Minerva
carried the basket into the house and then she and Jessie started off
toward a corner near the garden where the mountain cherries grew, and
where many other wild things made a close thicket, so that it was hard
to penetrate the middle of the place. But Jessie had been there many a
time. It was one of her favorite spots in summer. So now she pressed
her body through the tangle of blackberry vines, pokeweed, sumach
and laurel bushes to a less crowded part of the thicket. There was a
dogwood tree here, and upon its lower branches sat the two turkeys
entirely satisfied with the roost they had selected for the night.

“Here they are,” sang out Jessie.

Minerva followed the little girl. “Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “It
takes you to find ’em. I believe you know every foot of this place.”
She grabbed first one turkey, then another. They set up protesting
cries which were of no use whatever, for Minerva held them firmly
and carried them home triumphantly under each arm. “It’s too cold for
you to be out,” she said, addressing the turkeys. “I should think
you’d have better sense. I shouldn’t wonder if we were to have frost
to-night, and then where would your toes be?”

“Why, they’d be under them all covered up with feathers,” put in Jessie.

Minerva laughed. “You know more about it than I do, it seems. Well,
anyhow, they’d better be in where it’s safe and warm. Young turkeys are
delicate. Besides, some crittur might catch them.”

This was not to be denied as Jessie informed the turkeys. “You’re much
safer in the hen-house, you two silly things,” she said, “so you ought
to be much obliged to us for getting you. I’m sure I shouldn’t want to
stay out in the cold and dark all night and have wild beasts get after
me. Minerva, that yellow house just this side the bridge must be taken,
for there are people living in it. I saw a cat sitting on the porch
and there was a little rocking-chair in the garden. Do you suppose it
belonged to a little girl?”

“It might. I should say it was very likely to. Little boys don’t
usually care for rocking-chairs.”

“I hope it is a nice little girl and that I shall get acquainted with
her,” returned Jessie. “Effie Hinsdale is my nearest girl friend and
neighbor and she lives across the railroad track. Mother says twice a
day is as often as she likes to think of my crossing the track, but
when Ezra is there I shouldn’t think she’d mind.”

“I should think she would mind,” said Minerva. “Don’t you see enough of
the girls at school?”

“Ye-es,” said Jessie doubtfully, “I suppose I do, but it’s only at
recess, you know, for I always hurry home. I was late to-day because
589 was behind time.”

“That’s the four o’clock, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but Ezra always calls her 589.”

“And that’s why you do. I suppose that’s a fairly good reason. There’s
your father and Sam coming up the lane. I’ll put up the turkeys and you
can open the gate for them.”

Jessie ran down the long avenue of trees which led up to the house,
opened the gate and stood there while her father drove in.

“Climb up, Puss,” he said, “and I’ll take you around to the barn. Been
a good girl to-day? Missed any lessons?”

“I didn’t know how to spell ‘conscientious,’” Jessie told him, “and two
examples weren’t quite right.”

“That’s not so bad. A good many people don’t know how to spell
‘conscientious,’” said her father with a little laugh. “Any demerits?”

“One,” said Jessie a little shamefacedly and quickly changing the
subject. “I held the flag for 589,” she said. “Ezra let me.”

“The train was late, I know,” said Mr. Loomis. “I heard the whistle and
hoped you were safe across.”

“I wasn’t. Ezra wouldn’t let me go, though there was plenty of time. He
said suppose I should fall.”

Her father nodded. “He’s right. Nice old chap, Ezra is. Well, here we
are. Run in and tell Minerva that Sam has a basket of peaches in the
wagon. They’re the last we’ll get this year.”

“Where did you get them, father?”

“From that tree over in the south field; it’s a late variety, but they
will be pretty good for preserves.”

“I’m going to have one before that happens,” said Jessie, running into
the kitchen and meeting Sam just as he was bringing in the peaches.

“Work for you to-morrow, Minervy,” he said as he set down the basket.

“That’s so,” returned Minerva. “Well, I don’t mind. Them white peaches
makes fine preserves and we haven’t any too many peaches put up this
year. Hungry, Sam?”

“You bet,” he replied. “Always am. Seems to me I don’t more’n get one
meal down than I’m ready for another.”

“It ain’t quite as bad as that,” returned Minerva. “I’ll have your
supper ready in the shake of a sheep’s tail. By the time you’ve done
milking, anyway.”

Sam went out with the milk-buckets and Jessie returned to the
sitting-room. Her father was at his desk, setting down some accounts;
her mother was watering the plants which had lately been brought in and
put in the south windows. Jessie stood looking out into the gathering
twilight. Everything showed forth duskily. Many of the trees were
shedding their leaves. Down by the brook a row of willows looked
fantastically like people with big heads and wild hair, Jessie thought.
There was one quite small, which seemed very human. Jessie regarded it
interestedly for some time before she turned and said, “Mother, what is
the little tree down by the brook? the one with a funny head. What’s
its name?”

“Pollard Willow,” replied her mother, glancing out of the window toward
the place Jessie pointed out.

“Polly Willow,” whispered Jessie to herself. “Polly Willow! What a
funny name.”




_CHAPTER II_

_Playmate Polly_




_CHAPTER II_

_Playmate Polly_


It was some time after this that Jessie made the acquaintance of Polly
Willow and it came about in a way that Jessie had not expected. It was
due in the beginning to 589 which seemed of late to be getting into a
habit of tardiness. One morning when Jessie was going to school she
missed her good friend Ezra at the door of his little house. A stranger
was there, a gruff sort of somebody who cried out sharply: “Get over
there quick, sissy. You ain’t no business crossing tracks when trains
is coming.”

“There isn’t any train coming,” said Jessie. “I know all about the
trains. There isn’t any after the 803 when 411 comes along. The next
train is at twelve and the one after at four.”

“Much you know,” replied the man. “I suppose the president of the road
has sent you a special message saying he’s just changed the fall
schedule. I had my information from Ezra, but I reckon he don’t know.
He told me to look out for a train at 8:35.”

“There wasn’t any such train on Friday,” said Jessie.

“Fall schedule hadn’t come into effect. Time changes to-day.”

“Where is Ezra?” asked Jessie, still unbelieving, but by this time
safely across the track.

“Took down with rheumatiz. Been bothering him on and off for some time.
Now he’s laid up in bed.”

“Dear me, but I am sorry,” said Jessie.

“That don’t cure his aches and pains,” returned the man. “You’d better
hustle along, sis. I’ve got to signal to this here train and I can’t
stand here all day talking to you.”

Jessie turned away indignantly. Ezra would have asked if she didn’t
want to hold the flag when the train went by, and he would not have
told her in that rude way to “go along.” She did not like this man at
all. She wondered if Ezra would be ill all winter, and then suddenly
she thought of what her mother had said; that if anything happened to
Ezra, her parents would not feel that they could allow Jessie to take
the walk to the Hill School.

However, Ezra and the trains were forgotten when the little girl
reached school, for there were several interesting things to take
up her thoughts that morning. In the first place, there was a new
scholar named Anna Sharp. She had come to live with her aunt in the
neighborhood and was going to attend the Hill School. Next Effie
Hinsdale whispered that there were four dear new kittens in the barn
and that Jessie could have one if she liked. Effie had been given a
demerit for whispering, and that had so disturbed Jessie that she
missed her geography lesson and had to recite it after school, so
altogether there was quite enough to put Ezra out of her mind.

She remembered him before she reached the railroad, and then she
determined that she would not pay the least attention to the flagman
who was taking Ezra’s place, but that she would run across the tracks
without turning her head. She had not resisted the temptation to stop
at Effie’s long enough to see the new kittens, and had chosen the gray
one, so that it was later than usual when she reached the railroad.
Of course 589 must have gone by, for it was the express and was due at
four o’clock. There could not be the least danger, thought Jessie. She
saw that the flagman had his back to her and was standing looking up
the track. She made haste to cross before he could see her, and, in her
hurry, she tripped over the rail and her books were scattered in every
direction. She picked herself up and was about to gather her books
together when she heard the shrill whistle of an approaching train,
while from up the track she saw the express rapidly advancing upon her.
For a second she stood, numb with fright, and then she leaped across
the rails, her heart beating fast. Another moment and the train went
flying by. She was safe if her books were not. She saw her geography
go careering down the road, her arithmetic lying some distance away,
and her reader nowhere to be seen. But books were of no account just
then. The child’s whole thought was to get home as quickly as possible.
Without looking back once she sped along as fast as she could run,
tears coursing down her cheeks and herself so shaken that when she
reached home she burst into the sitting-room and flung herself,
sobbing, into her mother’s arms.

“Why, my darling, what is the matter?” asked Mrs. Loomis anxiously.

“589 was late and Ezra has the rheumatism and they have changed the
time and I tripped on a rail and lost my books. There was a horrid man
there, too, and he called me ‘sis.’”

In this rather mixed-up speech her mother recognized that something
alarming had really happened. “Never mind, dearie,” she said
soothingly. “Wait till you can stop crying and then tell me all about
it. Mother has you safe anyhow, hasn’t she?” She cuddled the little
girl closely in her lap and in a few minutes Jessie was able to give a
better account of what had occurred.

Mrs. Loomis looked very grave as she shook her head. “Thank heaven,”
she said, “that you were not so bewildered as to stand still. We didn’t
know the winter schedule was in effect. Ezra would have sent us word if
he had not been ill. Oh, my child!” She hugged Jessie suddenly to her
and after a moment continued, “It is clear to me that it is not safe
for you to go to school by yourself. I will see if we can arrange to
have Sam take you, and I might be able to spare Minerva to bring you
home. You could go as far as the Hinsdales and wait there for her.
I should never have an easy moment if you were to go over that road
alone. Try to forget this afternoon’s fright, dear child, and go talk
to Minerva. I see your father coming.”

Jessie went to Minerva and helped her feed the chickens, almost
forgetting in this task, that she had been so frightened. But after
supper her father took her on his knee and questioned her about the
matter.

“No more school for you yet a while, miss,” he said. “I can’t spare Sam
just now for I am a man short, and it won’t hurt you to stay at home
for a week while we plan what is to be done next. I pinned my faith on
Ezra, but now that he is out of the question we shall have to think of
some other way of doing.”

So the next day Jessie stayed home from school, and not only the next,
but for several days she was free to wander about the place and do
pretty much as she pleased. “She’s had a bad fright,” said Mr. Loomis
to his wife, “and she is a nervous, imaginative little thing, so she’d
better stay out-of-doors all she can till she gets over this. I don’t
think we need let her bother with lessons for a while yet.”

The first day Jessie amused herself near the house; the next she
wandered as far as the mountain cherry-tree; the third found her down
by the brook, and there she saw Polly Willow waiting for her.

“I’ve just got to have somebody to play with,” said Jessie, looking at
Polly Willow’s funny head. “I think maybe you’ll do for a playmate,
Polly. There’s one thing about it; you can’t run away and you’ll always
be here when I want you. Of course you are pretty big, but so are the
other people in your family. You are much the smallest of any of them,
so I don’t suppose you are any older than I. I think the first thing I
do must be to get you a hat. I know where there is one I think I can
have.”

She ran back to the house and up to the attic where she found an old
straw hat. On her way down she stopped at the door of her mother’s room
to poke in her head and say: “May I have this, mother?”

“What is it?”

“An old hat. I want to play with it.”

Her mother glanced at the hat. “Yes, you may have it. Where are you
playing?”

“Down by the brook.”

“Don’t get your feet wet. So long as you have your rubbers on and are
in the open air, I am satisfied.”

With the hat in hand Jessie ran back to the brook. The fallen leaves
already dappled its surface with red and yellow, but goldenrod and
asters made a gay fringe along the sides. Sitting down on a fallen
log she proceeded to trim the hat with flowers. A plume of goldenrod
decorated one side; a bunch of asters the other, and when it was
finished, Jessie stood on tiptoe and stuck the hat on Polly’s big head.
“It’s rather small for you,” she said as she gravely regarded the
effect, “but it makes you look more like a little girl. Now, Polly,
we’ll play. I’m going to live over there.” She waved her hand in the
direction of a large rock a short distance away. “I see Mrs. Mooky is
coming to see me, so I shall have to go, but I’ll come over again after
a while. Good-bye, Polly.”

A pretty fawn-colored cow was grazing near the big rock. This was the
person Jessie called Mrs. Mooky. The little girl was not in the least
afraid of cows, of this one in particular, for she had been accustomed
to seeing Mrs. Mooky ever since she was a little calf which had fed
from her hand. So now she approached her boldly, saying, “Good-morning,
Mrs. Mooky. I’m very glad to see you. I am sorry I was not at home when
you called just now, but I had to run over to Polly’s. She has a new
hat that she wanted me to see.”

The cow lifted her head and gave a gentle “moo.”

“I understand,” Jessie went on. “You’ll come again some other day.
Very well. Good-bye.” And the cow moved on. “I’m going to ask mother
if I can’t have a tea-party here with Playmate Polly. No, I won’t say
with Playmate Polly; she might laugh. A grown person couldn’t exactly
understand how nice it is to have a Playmate Polly for a friend. I’ll
bring one of the dolls, and--oh, dear, I wish the gray kitten were big
enough. Mother says I can’t have it till it is quite able to do without
its mother, so I’ll have to wait, and I shall have to get Charity.”

Again she went back to the house, this time to get the doll which had
been bought at a bazaar in the city by Jessie’s aunt who had suggested
the old-fashioned name of Charity for her, since it was a charity
bazaar at which she had been bought, and because the doll was dressed
in a very old-fashioned costume to represent a Colonial Dame. She had
now a long cloak to cover her brocade frock, a cloak that Jessie had
made from a piece of gray flannel, and in consequence of her having
this warm garment, Jessie thought her better prepared for outdoor play
than the other dolls.

“May I have something for a party? I’m taking Charity with me down to
the brook,” she said to her mother whom she found in the kitchen.

“Why, yes,” said her mother, “what do you want?”

“What is it that smells so good?”

“Peach marmalade, I suspect. We’re making some.”

“I’d like some of that on some bread.”

“It’s hot,” said Minerva, “and it isn’t done yet, but I reckon it will
taste good and it will soon cool off in the open air. What will you
have it in? Oh, I know; one of those little jars the beef extract comes
in. There are some in the pantry on the shelf behind the door.”

Jessie set Charity on one of the kitchen chairs, and went to the pantry
for the little jar which Minerva filled with marmalade. She then cut a
couple slices of bread, buttered them and put them wrapped in a napkin,
into a small egg basket, adding the jar of preserves and an apple. “Be
careful how you carry it,” she warned Jessie. “You don’t want to smear
that sticky stuff all over the basket, and be sure to bring it and the
jar back when you come. Now, don’t forget.”

“I’ll remember,” said Jessie. “Thank you, Minerva. I shall have a
lovely time.”

“Here, come back,” cried Minerva, as Jessie went out. “I didn’t put in
any spoon. Would you rather have a spoon or a knife?”

“A spoon, I think,” said Jessie, “for then if I want to eat any
preserves I can do it easier, and a spoon will do to spread with, too.”

“One of the kitchen spoons, Minerva,” said Mrs. Loomis. “We don’t want
the silver lost at the bottom of the brook.”

Jessie was quite satisfied with a kitchen spoon and went happily on her
way, holding the little basket and her doll, carefully. “We’re going
over to Playmate Polly’s, Charity,” she informed her doll. “You don’t
know her, but she is a very nice little girl, just the kind I like. She
knows all about the flowers and birds and such things, for she lives
right down by the brook where they live. She told me this morning that
she is very intimate with the birds especially, and now that they are
going south for the winter she would be very lonely if I didn’t play
with her. I think she will be glad to see you, too, for I am sure she
doesn’t have much company these days. Mrs. Mooky comes pretty often,
but then she is not a little girl like me, and that makes a great
difference.”

Talking thus to her doll, she went on her way and soon reached the
brook. The marmalade was still warm, but when it was spread on the
bread which Jessie laid out on the red doily, it soon cooled, and if
Jessie was obliged to eat both Polly’s and Charity’s share by proxy,
she did not have to eat for the birds, who were glad of the crumbs,
and who, when the last speck had vanished, came near enough to look
inquiringly with their bright eyes as if to ask, Is that all?

“Now, Polly,” said Jessie, “I’m going to ask you to take care of
Charity for me a little while. She isn’t very well this morning, and I
want to see the doctor about her. You know Dr. Bramble, of course.”

Polly, answering in Jessie’s voice, said she knew Dr. Bramble very
well indeed, that he was a sharp sort of person, and often very
disagreeable, but that he was a good doctor and his cordial fine stuff.

So, leaving Charity in Polly’s care, Jessie went to hunt up Dr.
Bramble. She was obliged to stay quite a while for when she reached his
house she found that Mrs. Bramble had a few belated blackberries for
her, and they were so tempting that Jessie was obliged to gather them
all. “They’ll do finely for pills for Charity,” she said, “or maybe I’d
better make medicine of them; I can mash them in the jar with the spoon
and give her a teaspoonful at a time!”

The berries were rather hard and could not be easily crushed, but
finally Jessie accomplished the work and Charity was given her first
dose, though she cried a good deal over it and insisted that she could
not take it. “But you must, my dear,” said Jessie firmly, “or you will
not get well. Do you want to be ill and not have any more of the nice
marmalade Minerva is making?”

Charity deciding that she preferred marmalade to illness, at last took
the medicine by means of Jessie’s mouth, and was then put to bed and
covered up with leaves. Then Jessie amused herself a long while with
Playmate Polly. They talked about many things; the birds, the fishes,
the flowers, the gray kitten and of Charity’s illness, and the time
went so pleasantly that when the dinner horn sounded Jessie had no idea
that it was so late. She had enjoyed her morning hugely, and had come
to have a great affection for her new friend, Playmate Polly.




_CHAPTER III_

_The Neighbor of the Yellow House_




_CHAPTER III_

_The Neighbor of the Yellow House_


Every morning after this Jessie went down to the brook to play with
Playmate Polly. Charity soon recovered from her illness, Dr. Bramble’s
medicine being the very thing for her, and she was able to enjoy her
share of the scrapings of marmalade which Jessie ate for her from the
big preserving-kettle. Mrs. Mooky called frequently, and so did other
persons. Jessie made the acquaintance of a lively cricket which lived
under the big stone that she was accustomed to call her house, and she
also had several conversations with a fat toad which would come out
and blink at her on mild days. Still it was Playmate Polly whom Jessie
liked the best. She kept the knowledge of this queer friend a secret
from everybody, and for that very reason probably enjoyed her the more.

One afternoon, however, when she and Polly had been having a
particularly interesting talk, Jessie heard a laugh from the other side
of the brook, and looking up quickly she saw a little girl with very
black hair and eyes, astride a fallen log. “Hello!” said the little
girl.

Jessie looked at her interestedly. “Hello!” she responded. She had
never seen the little girl before;--not at church, nor on the road, nor
anywhere, and she wondered who she could be. “Who are you?” she asked
presently, “and how did you get over there?”

“I’m Adele Pauline Falaise Hallett,” was the reply, “and I got here by
walking.”

“Goodness! what a long name,” said Jessie. “Do you live near here?”

“Yes, I live in the yellow house this side the bridge.”

“Oh, I know now,” returned Jessie; “you’re the new people. Did you come
through the woods or by the road?”

“Through the woods. What’s your name?”

“Jessie Loomis.”

“Who was it that you’ve been talking to all this time? I looked and
listened for ever so long and I couldn’t see anybody.”

“I was talking to my doll, Charity, part of the time,” said Jessie,
after a little hesitation. She did not want to tell her secrets to a
stranger.

“Who is Polly Somebody? You kept saying Polly this and Polly that. Hare
you a parrot over there?”

“Dear me, no,” returned Jessie. “I was talking to a make-believe friend
of mine.”

“What kind of friend? Can’t you see her truly?”

“Yes, I can see her. She’s this tree.” Jessie laid her hand
affectionately on Playmate Polly’s rough bark.

Adele laughed. “That’s a mighty funny sort of friend. I’m coming over
to you. Where can I get across?”

“There’s a log higher up,” Jessie told her. “I cross that way
sometimes, and in summer when the brook is very low I can cross on the
stones.”

“It isn’t so very low now.”

“No, and so you’d better try the log. I’ll show you where it is.” She
took the path on one side the brook, Adele following that on the other,
and pretty soon they came to a log thrown across the stream.

“It’s a little wobbly,” said Jessie, “so you’d better be careful.”

With some small shrieks and exclamations Adele managed to cross the
bridge without mishap. “Now show me where you play,” she said somewhat
commandingly, Jessie thought, and therefore she led the way silently to
her favorite spot.

“This is Playmate Polly,” she said as if introducing a friend.

Adele laughed. “What do you call it that for?”

“Because it is her name,” rejoined Jessie stoutly, as she turned toward
the big stone near by. “This is my house,” she went on; “it is where
Charity and I live. Charity is my doll.”

Adele, without answering, picked up Charity and looked her over. “She
wears mighty queer clothes,” she remarked after a moment.

“That’s because she is a Colonial Dame,” returned Jessie in a superior
tone.

“Oh,” said Adele, setting down Charity carefully. She did not know just
what a Colonial Dame was and did not want to show her ignorance. “What
do you call her Charity for?” she asked presently.

“My Aunt Lucy bought her at a charity bazaar, and she said as Charity
was one of the old-fashioned names, she thought it would suit an
old-fashioned doll. I like it,” she added with decision.

“I knew a girl once named Temperance,” remarked Adele. “They used to
call her Tempy.”

“Where was that?”

“In New Orleans where I lived before we came here; before--” she
hesitated, and then added in a low voice, “before I lost my mother.”

“Oh!” Jessie gazed at her with sympathetic eyes. She had never known,
before this, any little girl who had not a mother. “Was it very long
ago?” she asked softly.

“A little over a year,” Adele told her. “I have six dolls,” she went
on, changing the subject. “How many have you?”

“Five, but I like Charity the best. She is the biggest and prettiest,
too. I have one a little smaller named Lucy, and a little China
boy-doll I like very much; he is about so high.” She measured a height
of four inches or so. “I bring him down here because he is so little
that I can put him most anywhere.”

“What is his name?” asked Adele.

“Peter Pan,” returned Jessie. “Then I have a baby in long clothes and a
German doll my uncle brought me when he came from Europe.”

It seemed a very interesting family to Adele who said regretfully, “My
dolls are so much alike I don’t care much more for one than another.
Some are newer than others; that’s all. Will you show me all your dolls
some day?”

“Why, certainly,” returned Jessie warmly, adding, “I’m awfully glad you
live near. There’s no one this side the bridge at all. Effie Hinsdale
is the nearest, but she lives across the railroad track.”

“Aunt Betty won’t let me cross it,” said Adele.

“I used to do it every day; that was before Ezra had rheumatism. I
don’t go to school now. Do you go to the Hill school?” Jessie asked,
then added, “Oh, no, of course you don’t, if you can’t cross the
railroad track.”

“No, I don’t go anywhere,” returned Adele. “I am going to have a
governess next week.”

“Shall you like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I like Miss Eloise. She is a friend of my aunt’s
and she is very nice and kind, at least she is now.”

“I thought governesses were always cross,” said Jessie as if it were a
well-known fact.

“Maybe she will be when she gets to be a governess,” Adele remarked.
“I hope she will not. I believe I’d rather not have her anyway. I hate
lessons.”

“So do I,” returned Jessie delightedly. “I’m so glad you feel that way.
I was so pleased when I knew I could stay at home for a while.”

“Are you going to stay away from school always?” asked Adele.

“Oh, I am sure I don’t know. I suppose we have to have educations,
but it is very disagreeable. I don’t see why educations can’t come
like teeth, when you’re ready for them, or an easier way still would
be to wake up some morning and find you could do every example in the
arithmetic, and another morning you could speak French, and another
you would know all the rivers and capitals and mountains and things.
Wouldn’t that be fine?”

Adele laughed. “I wake up every morning and know I can speak French.”

“Oh, do you?” Jessie looked at her half incredulously. “I didn’t know
any little girls could do that unless they were real French children
who couldn’t speak English. How does it happen?”

“My grandmother was French. I am named after her,” Adele told her, “and
my mother spoke French as well as English. I always had a French nurse,
too, so I learned French at the same time I did English.”

Jessie looked at her admiringly, then she sighed. “Well, I don’t know a
word of French or anything except ‘Guten Tag.’ We had a German to work
for us once and he taught me that much.”

“Don’t let’s talk about such stupid things,” said Adele suddenly. “What
is behind those branches piled up against that place in the bank here?”

Jessie looked at her quickly. It seemed as if Adele’s quick eyes and
ears would discover all her secrets. “You won’t tell?” she asked after
a minute’s pause. “Cross your heart you won’t? It’s a secret, you see.
Playmate Polly is a secret, too. Not even mother or Minerva know about
her.”

“I promise,” said Adele readily. “Who is Minerva?”

“Our girl. She is as nice as she can be. I’m awfully fond of her.”

“Show me what is behind the branches.”

Jessie led the way to the spot where the bank dropped three or four
feet. She carefully removed the branches, saying mysteriously: “It is a
cave, a grotto.”

Adele knelt down and peeped in to see where the bank, shelving in, made
quite a little hollow. The floor of the small grotto was paved with
pebbles upon which lay rugs of green moss. A piece of looking-glass set
in the earth served for a tiny lake. The sides of the grotto were hung
with another kind of moss. At one end two small candlesticks, bearing
red candles, were set up and in a chair between them was the little
china doll.

“This is where Peter Pan lives,” said Jessie. “I’ll light the candles
and you can see the lake better. That pile of moss over there is
Peter Pan’s bed. I haven’t any table for him yet. I am hunting for a
nice little square block of wood, or a smooth round stone would do. I
haven’t really finished the grotto yet Don’t you think it is right
pretty?”

“It is perfectly beautiful,” said Adele enthusiastically. “I don’t see
how you did it. Oh, won’t you let me come and play with you sometimes?”

Jessie felt that she was very generous to be sharing her secrets with
a stranger, but when she remembered that Adele was motherless she felt
that anything she could do to give her pleasure would be a small thing,
so she responded cordially, “Why, of course.”

“I haven’t any little doll like Peter Pan,” Adele went on, “but maybe a
paper doll would do till I could get the right kind.”

“A paper doll would do very well and you could call her Wendy,” said
Jessie with satisfaction.

“Why?”

“Oh, don’t you know Peter Pan? I thought every one did,” said Jessie in
surprise.

“Please tell me.”

“All right, I will. I know all about him. When I went to see Aunt Lucy
last winter she took me to see Peter Pan, and oh, it was the loveliest
thing you can imagine. Sit down here and I will tell you.” Adele did as
she was told and Jessie launched forth into her story, Adele listening
attentively.

But before the story was finished a shrill whistle sounded from the
house. “Oh, dear,” said Jessie jumping up, “I must go. That is for me.”

“How do you know it is for you?”

“Mother has a little whistle that she blows whenever she wants me to
come home.”

“Can’t you just stay long enough to finish the story?” said Adele
coaxingly. “Please do.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. There is a lot more, and mother doesn’t like me to
stay out too late.”

“She won’t mind just this once.”

Jessie hesitated and glanced toward the house. Again the whistle
sounded.

Hastily gathering up Peter Pan and Charity she made ready to return
home.

“I think you are real mean,” cried Adele. “You just get into the most
interesting part and then you stop. I don’t like you one bit. I’m just
going home and you can talk to your old dumb Polly after this.” She
stalked away indignantly while Jessie slowly made her way toward the
house, looking back every little while over her shoulder. She knew she
was doing right, but she did wish Adele had not gone off in a huff.
After all, perhaps Playmate Polly was more satisfactory, for she never
quarreled with her. This thought made her turn and run back a few steps
to call out: “Good-night, Polly.”

Just then she heard a scream and some one crying out: “Jessie, Jessie!”
in tones of distress. For only a second Jessie hesitated and then she
rushed to the spot from which the voice came to find Adele splashing
about in the brook.

“I slipped off the log,” she cried. “I’m all wet and drownded and there
is a cow coming!”

Fortunately the brook was not very deep, particularly at this point.
Jessie laid down her dolls, and went to the bank near the log, reaching
out her hands and calling to Adele, “Come up here.”

Adele cast a frightened look over her shoulder at Mrs. Mooky, who was
taking an evening drink from the stream. “She won’t hurt you, will you,
Mrs. Mooky?” said Jessie encouragingly.

The cow lifted her head and looked fixedly at Jessie, moving a few
steps nearer.

“Oh, she’s coming! She’s coming!” cried Adele frantically trying to
scramble up the bank.

“No, she isn’t,” Jessie assured her. “Give me your hand. There now, you
are safe, but you are awfully wet. Come right home with me and get some
dry clothes.”

“No, no,” protested Adele, “I’ll go home.”

“It’s further to your house. You’d better come,” said Jessie decidedly.

“It was all that horrid cow,” said Adele. “She came splashing down into
the water and scared me so my foot slipped and down I went.”

Jessie smiled. She could not imagine any one being afraid of Mrs.
Mooky, but she saw that Adele was really frightened so she only
repeated: “You’d better come home with me.”

“What will your mother say?” said Adele, still holding back.

“She’ll say she’s very sorry it happened, and she’ll have Minerva take
you home unless Sam is there with the carriage. Father went to town
to-day and maybe Sam hasn’t gone to meet him yet. Come right along;
you’ll get cold.”

Thus admonished, Adele allowed herself to be led up to the house. Mrs.
Loomis met the two little girls at the porch steps. “This is Adele
Hallett,” said Jessie. “She lives in the yellow house, and she slipped
off the log into the brook just now. Mrs. Mooky frightened her.”

“That was very unkind of Mrs. Mooky,” said Mrs. Loomis smiling down at
Adele. “Come in, dear. You must be chilled to the bone in those wet
clothes. There is a good fire in the sitting-room. I always like to
have it bright and cheery for Jessie’s father when he comes in. Take
your friend in there, Jessie, and I will go up for some dry clothes.”

The open wood-fire was sending out a comforting heat as Adele
shiveringly came up to it. “You’d better take off your shoes and
stockings first; they are the wettest,” Jessie told her. “Your feet
must be very cold. I’ll take off one shoe and you do the other.”

Adele sat down meekly on the big fur rug, while Jessie helped her to
take off her wet foot gear. “There,” said Jessie, “stick out your feet
and get them good and hot while I unbutton your frock.” Adele obeyed
without a word.

Presently Mrs. Loomis returned with the dry things and bade Jessie take
the wet ones to Minerva to dry. “We’ll send them home to you,” she told
Adele as she helped her into Jessie’s garments. They were a little
large for her, but they did very well.

Jessie laughed when she came back. “It is another me, isn’t it,
mother?” she said. “Only that me isn’t as big as this me, and it has
black hair instead of light brown, and black eyes instead of blue. Do
you feel as if your name were Jessie, and are you real warm, Adele?”

“I feel quite warm,” said Adele in a low voice, her head drooping.

“I’m going to mix something good and hot for her to drink,” said Mrs.
Loomis, “and then Sam can take her home. Miss Hallett will be anxious
about her, and Sam is about ready to go to the station to meet your
father.”

As soon as Mrs. Loomis had left the room Adele lifted her eyes, and
Jessie saw that they were full of tears. “I said I didn’t like you one
bit,” she burst out, “but I do, I do. I love you. I love you dearly.”

“Oh!--why----” Jessie began. She felt embarrassed and was glad of her
mother’s reappearance. Mrs. Loomis held a glass in her hand. “Drink
this, dear,” she said to Adele. “You will find that it tastes very good
and it will keep you from taking cold.” Adele silently obeyed, and
found it a spicy-sweet draught which sent a warm glow through her.

Jessie pulled her mother’s head down to her level and whispered
something to her. Mrs. Loomis nodded understandingly and when Adele set
down the glass she lifted the child’s face and kissed her gently on the
cheek. “You must come again,” she said.

“And will you take me to see her?” asked Jessie eagerly.

“To be sure I will,” replied Mrs. Loomis. “I am going to call on your
aunt, dear,” she said to Adele, “and I hope we shall all be good
friends and neighbors.”

Adele looked at her for a moment and then she caught her hand and laid
her own cheek against it. “You are lovely,” she said, “and Jessie is
just like you. I want her to be my friend forever.”

Then Minerva appeared at the door to say that Sam was ready with the
carriage.




_CHAPTER IV_

_Aunt Betty_




_CHAPTER IV_

_Aunt Betty_


The next day there was no sign of Adele, though from time to time
Jessie looked up from her play to see if her new friend by chance
might be coming along the path on the other side of the brook. Sam
had delivered the little girl’s belongings at the yellow house, and
had been told that none of the family were up. Later Jessie’s clothes
were returned with a note of thanks. So Playmate Polly had it all her
own way that day, and Peter Pan was provided with more moss hangings
as well as a new ornament in the shape of a bright pink pebble for
his grotto. Jessie had told her mother all that she had learned about
Adele and had received some information in return. Miss Betty Hallett,
Adele’s aunt, was a delicate woman, and Adele herself was not strong,
so the doctor had declared they would both be better in the country,
and as Mr. Hallett had removed his business from the south to the
middle states he had discovered in the yellow house by the brook,
just the place which he thought would suit his sister and his little
daughter. It was not so far from the city where he had his office but
that he could come home frequently to spend Sunday, and it was in a
healthful region as well as a very attractive one.

“So now,” Mrs. Loomis told Jessie, “I must call on Miss Hallett at
once, for we are her nearest neighbors and I am sure she must be
lonely.”

They set off, therefore, one afternoon, in the little phaeton which
Mrs. Loomis always drove herself, and soon they drew up before the
yellow house and were ushered into a room filled with stately old
furniture and sombre portraits. “I don’t think it is as cozy as our
house,” whispered Jessie.

“Hush, dear,” returned Mrs. Loomis. “It is far handsomer, and probably
after a while it will look more cheerful. You see everything is not
settled.”

At this moment Miss Hallett entered and Jessie shrank back against her
mother, surprise and something like horror in her eyes, for she saw a
tiny little woman with deep dark eyes, a mournful mouth and rather a
large head set down between her shoulders. Jessie had never come in
contact with a hunchback before and she gripped her mother’s hand hard.
Mrs. Loomis gave her fingers a gentle pressure before she rose to meet
Miss Hallett whose sudden smile lighted up her sallow face. “I hope we
are not coming to you before you are ready to receive a call,” said
Mrs. Loomis. “We are your nearest neighbors, Miss Hallett, and I hope
you will believe that we want to be true ones.”

“I am so glad to see you,” returned Miss Hallett. “This dull day has
given me an attack of the blues, and you could not have chosen a better
time for coming. I have been wanting an opportunity to thank you for
your kindness to Adele, but we have been so busy, it seemed impossible
for me to find time to go anywhere. Adele has talked of nothing else
but you and your little girl since her rather awkward tumble. I am
afraid she gave you a great deal of trouble.”

“Not a bit of it,” returned Mrs. Loomis. “I only hope she didn’t take
cold.”

“No, she did not, thanks to your prompt measures. She is an impulsive,
headstrong little creature, and I am at loss sometimes just how to
manage her. Fortunately my friend Miss Laurent has consented to come to
us, and with her coöperation I hope we shall do great things for Adele.
I wanted to have the house all in order before Miss Laurent should
come, and it has been such a task.”

Jessie wished very much that Miss Hallett would send for Adele
instead of talking about her, and presently was relieved when a tall
mulatto woman was summoned. “Go tell Miss Adele that she is to come
in, Angeline,” said Miss Hallett. “Or,” she turned to Mrs. Loomis,
“perhaps your little girl would rather go out to Adele. She is in the
summer-house. My brother has had it enclosed with glass, and Adele
rather likes to play there. Would you rather go to Adele?” she asked
Jessie.

There was no doubt in Jessie’s mind that she would very much prefer
this, and in another moment she was following Angeline through the hall
to a side door and down a broad walk to the summer-house.

“Young lady to see you, honey baby,” said Angeline putting her head in
the door.

Adele, who was busy over something in one corner, turned suddenly and
caught sight of Jessie standing on the sill. She darted forward, and
flung her arms around her visitor, kissing her first on one cheek and
then on the other. “I am so glad you have come,” she cried. “I thought
you never would. You may go, Angeline.” She turned to the tall maid who
drew down her mouth and disappeared leaving the little girls alone.

“I thought of course you would come over yesterday, to the play place,
you know,” returned Jessie.

Adele dropped her eyes and appeared to be looking attentively at her
toes. “I couldn’t,” she said presently.

“Why not?”

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“What she?”

“Aunt Betty. She’s horrid like that sometimes and is just as mean as
she can be.”

“Is that because she isn’t--she isn’t just like other people?” asked
Jessie hesitatingly. She could readily understand that a person who
looked like Miss Hallett might have reason to be disagreeable.

Adele looked at her fixedly for a moment, then to Jessie’s great
discomfiture she burst into tears. “She isn’t! She isn’t! She isn’t!”
she repeated. “She is just like other people and she is dear and good
and lovely. You shan’t say she is not.”

Jessie was bewildered. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t mean----” she began
helplessly.

“It was I who was horrid,” Adele went on. “It was all my doing. I got
mad and screamed and fought Angeline and wouldn’t eat my supper because
I couldn’t have coffee and lots, lots, lots of sugar in it, and so Aunt
Betty said I shouldn’t go to see you till she said I might. She isn’t
horrid at all, and you shan’t say she is. She is perfectly beautiful.”

“It wasn’t _I_ who said she was horrid, you know,” said Jessie with an
emphasis on the _I_.

“Well, I don’t care. You thought so.” Adele wiped her eyes and stood
thoughtfully picking off the dead leaves from a potted geranium on a
shelf near by. Jessie was silent. She hardly knew whether to go or stay.

Presently Adele turned around with the sweetest of smiles. “Let’s
play,” she said. “I’ll show you all my dolls. Why didn’t you bring
Charity or Peter Pan with you?”

“I will next time,” said Jessie, relieved at the turn of affairs, but
wondering what kind of girl Adele really was.

“Come,” cried Adele, grasping Jessie’s hand. “The dolls are all up in
the playroom. I was making medicine for them just now. They have ague,
every blessed one of them, and they are shaking their heads off, at
least one of them is,” she added with a laugh. “I’ll show you which
one it is.” She pulled Jessie along the boardwalk and up-stairs to a
pleasant upper room where six dolls were abed, most of them staring
smilingly at the ceiling, though two of them had their eyes shut. Adele
picked up one of them and showed a very wobbly head which seemed in
danger of soon departing from its body. “This is the shakiest one,”
she said, “and she’ll have to have a double dose of medicine. Indeed,
I don’t know but that she will have to go to a hospital. That is my
newest one.” She pointed to a very fresh and smiling flaxen-haired
beauty.

“What is her name?” asked Jessie.

“She hasn’t any in particular. I never name my dolls.”

“Oh, don’t you?” This seemed as incredible to Jessie as if she had been
told that a family of children had been left unnamed. “I don’t see how
you get along if you don’t name them,” she said.

“Oh, I scarcely ever play with more than one at a time, and then I can
always call that one dolly or honey or something,” was the reply.

“I should think you would have to name them,” persisted Jessie. “When
you are talking about them what do you say?”

“I hardly ever do talk about them. When I do it is to Aunt Betty, and
then I say the new doll, or the doll with the brown hair, or something
of that kind. Don’t let’s play with dolls. I bet you can’t catch me
before I get downstairs.” And while Jessie was recovering herself
Adele was off and away down the stairs at the foot of which she stood
laughing as Jessie descended more slowly. “I think I shall ask Angeline
for some cakes,” she said. “Come along into the kitchen. I suppose that
cross old Roxy wouldn’t give us any, but I can coax Angeline into
anything. Angeline! Angeline!” she called imperiously, “come here.”

Angeline appeared at the entry door. “I want some cakes,” said Adele,
“some for Jessie and me. We’re hungry.”

“Dey ain’ no mo’ cakes, honey,” said Angeline. “Yo done eat ’em all up.”

“Then make some right away, or tell Roxy she’s got to do it.”

“Roxy she done gone to de sto’.”

“Oh, bother! You go along and make some, and be quick about it, too,”
ordered Adele.

“Law, honey chile, how long yuh spec’ it tek to mek up de fiah an’ bake
cake? Yuh foolish, chile. I done got some sweet ertaters in de ashes,”
she hastened to say as she saw Adele’s face puckering up for a cry. “I
tell yuh what, honey; I git yuh two nice bowls o’ milk an’ nice sweet
ertaters an’ yuh kin tek ’em out in de summah-house an’ eat ’em.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” said Adele with resignation. “Do you
like sweet potatoes and milk?” she asked Jessie.

“I never ate any. At least, of course I have eaten sweet potatoes
often enough and I drink milk, but I never ate them together.”

“They are mighty good together,” Adele assured her. “Bring ’em along,
Angeline, to the summer-house, and don’t you be forever about it
either.” And Adele stalked off with Jessie in her wake.

“She’s very good-natured, isn’t she?” remarked Jessie when they had
reached the summer-house.

“Who? Angeline? Oh, so so.”

“I wouldn’t dare to talk to Minerva that way,” said Jessie after a
pause.

“You wouldn’t? I don’t see why. I always talk as I please to Angeline.
She nursed my mother and she nursed me, and she doesn’t care what I
say to her. Besides, I am her mistress.” Adele held her head high, and
Jessie looked at her admiringly.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose that must make a difference; Minerva was
never nurse to my mother.”

The two bowls of milk and warm sweet potatoes soon appeared and though
Jessie did not care very much for the combination, she ate part of
her share fearing she might seem rude if she did not. She was glad,
however, that she did not have to finish, and that a message from her
mother obliged her to return to the house.

“We must go now, dear,” said Mrs. Loomis. “We have made a long call.”
She smiled at Adele as the two little girls came in.

“Oh, no, you mustn’t go,” spoke up Adele. “At least, you might let
Jessie stay. Won’t you, please?”

“Not to-day,” said Mrs. Loomis gently. “Your aunt has been kind enough
to promise that we may have you to-morrow to spend the day, so I think
Jessie and I will have to say good-bye now.”

“Oh, am I going for the whole day?” exclaimed Adele delightedly,
catching her aunt’s hand and pressing her cheek against it as was her
way of doing. “Is Angeline going to take me, or can I go alone? I know
the way.”

“You may go over alone,” Miss Betty told her. “But I will send Angeline
for you.”

Remembering Adele’s outburst earlier in the afternoon, Jessie steeled
herself to move closer to Miss Hallett and to say, “I’m glad you will
let Adele come. I haven’t any little girls to play with, you see.”

“Oh, yes, you have,” put in Adele with mischief in her eyes; “you have
Playmate Polly, you know.”

Mrs. Loomis looked down with a puzzled expression. “Who in the world is
Playmate Polly?” she asked. “I never heard of her.”

“She is a horrid creature,” said Adele laughing. “She has scraggy hair,
and a dreadful rough skin, but Jessie is very fond of her, and I don’t
like her to be.”

Jessie hung her head. She was afraid of being laughed at. “She’s only a
tree,” she said in a low voice.

Miss Betty smiled, but Mrs. Loomis put her arm around her little
daughter and said: “Then I am sure she is a very harmless acquaintance,
who will set my little girl no bad examples, and I am sure she is much
better than no one.”

Jessie looked up with a grateful smile. Mother always understood. She
would tell her all about Polly now that it was a secret no longer. Yet
she felt hurt and offended to think that Adele had not kept faith with
her, though, as she reflected, it was not about Polly that her promise
was made, but about Peter Pan and his grotto. Adele knew, however,
that Jessie wanted both kept a secret, and so the little visitor threw
her hostess a reproachful look which Adele understood and eagerly
responded to by saying, “I didn’t tell about the other thing, Jessie.
Indeed I didn’t. Now that you have me, I didn’t suppose you would care
any more about Polly.”

Mrs. Loomis was too considerate to ask about “the other thing,” but
she was told all about Playmate Polly on the way home, and agreed with
Jessie that it was very well to have such an amiable friend when there
was danger of a sudden flare up from Adele.

“The poor child has no mother; we must be very patient with her,” Mrs.
Loomis said. “She has always been a delicate little thing, and in
consequence is greatly spoiled. Her aunt is very frail, too, and says
she cannot stand scenes. I hope Miss Laurent will have wisdom enough
to know how to manage such a wilful little girl. Miss Hallett tells me
that her friend is a very superior woman and that she hopes a great
deal from her.” She was silent for a few minutes while Barney carried
them several rods along the road. Then she said, “What do you think of
having lessons with Adele, daughter?”

“Oh! Why, I don’t know. I suppose if I have to have lessons at all that
it would be nicer than anything. Am I to do it, mother?”

“I think so. I shall have to speak to your father first, but Miss
Hallett is very eager to have such an arrangement and brought up the
subject herself, so I do not see but that we shall profit by it. She is
very anxious that Adele should have a companion, for she has been too
much with older persons, and it would certainly settle our difficulty
of lessons for you.”

This gave Jessie a great deal to think about all that evening, and the
last question she asked that night was, “Will you promise to tell me
first thing in the morning, mother?”

And her mother answered, “I promise.”




_CHAPTER V_

_A New Pet_




_CHAPTER V_

_A New Pet_


As Mrs. Loomis had said, Miss Hallett’s proposition settled the
question of lessons for Jessie, and so when Adele appeared the next
morning, bright and early, Jessie had the great piece of news to tell
her, and Adele responded in her usual tempestuous way by giving Jessie
a tremendous hug, and by rushing to Mrs. Loomis to embrace her, too.
“It will be perfectly lovely,” she cried. “You will come to my house
every morning and we’ll have lessons in the playroom; it will have to
be a workroom then, and in the afternoon we can play by the brook.”

“We’ll not be able to all winter,” said Jessie, “for it will be too
cold.”

“Oh, I forgot that; we don’t have much winter down our way, you know.”

“Of course I don’t mean that we can never play out-of-doors,” returned
Jessie, “but it will be too damp down by the brook most of the time,
and it will often be too snowy.”

“Oh, the snow! I long for it,” cried Adele clasping her hands.

“It is nice,” said Jessie. “I like to slide on the ice, too, even when
it isn’t snowy. We can often go out on the little pond when the ice is
thick. It is rather fun to be out in the cold at any time, for you feel
so good when you come in.”

“I shall get Miss Eloise to let me walk home with you sometimes,” said
Adele, “because you will have to come by yourself in the morning, and
it wouldn’t be fair for you to walk both ways alone. Does the brook
freeze over?”

“Sometimes,” Jessie told her, “and then we can cross on the ice. I’d
rather go that way always, for it is shorter than to go around by the
road, but I suppose I can’t in very bad weather.”

“What will you do about Polly when it gets cold?” asked Adele.

“Oh, I can always see her except when there is deep snow.”

“And the grotto?”

“I’ll have to cover it up with brush and it will be there in the
spring. Why did you tell my secret, Adele?”

“Because I don’t like Polly. I didn’t tell about the grotto, did I?
and I think Polly is ugly. I wish you didn’t like her.”

“Anyhow, she never tells things I don’t want her to,” said Jessie
severely.

Adele buried her head in the sofa cushion of the lounge upon which
she was sitting, and began to sob, “I don’t care, I don’t care. She
is nothing but an ugly wicked old tree, and you _shall_ love me best,
because I love you best. I don’t pick out queer bad old creatures like
that to love more than you. I believe she is nothing but an old witch.”

For a moment Jessie felt quite remorseful, but then a feeling of not
wanting to be forced into likes and dislikes took possession of her,
and she relentlessly said: “I shall not like you best if you tell my
secrets.”

“I won’t tell any more. ’Deed and ’deed I won’t,” said Adele, lifting a
tear-stained face. “Please love me best, Jessie.” She caught Jessie’s
hands and put them around her own neck looking at her so pleadingly
that Jessie’s heart melted and she answered; “All right, I’ll like you
best.”

But the words were scarcely out of her mouth before they were stopped
with kisses, and Adele looked as happy as she had looked miserable a
moment before. “Now come,” she said, “let’s go to the grotto. I brought
paper dolls; one is Wendy and the other is Tinker Bell. Now you can
finish the story, and we’ll have a lovely time.”

They started off very happily, Mrs. Loomis watching them from the
window. “I don’t know how it is going to turn out,” she said to
herself, “but I hope Jessie will learn self-control by seeing how it
looks to fly into such tantrums as Adele’s. I think the sight of them
will do her more good than any amount of precept.”

Having given her word that Polly should no more have first place,
Jessie was ready to be very amiably disposed toward Adele, yet from
nine o’clock in the morning till six in the evening is a long stretch,
and it was rather too much to expect that two excitable little
girls could spend all that time in one another’s company without
disagreements. Once during the day Jessie gathered up her dolls and
started for home, leaving Adele disconsolately sitting on a stone, but
Adele was the first to ask to make up, and begged so hard to be taken
back into favor that Jessie yielded. Once, too, Adele in a sudden rage
threatened to demolish the grotto, because Jessie insisted upon having
her way with Wendy.

“She’s mine,” protested Adele.

“I don’t care. I know all about her better than you. I saw the play and
you didn’t,” this conclusively.

Adele flung Wendy on the ground and added insult to injury by
threatening to chop down Playmate Polly some night. “And when you get
up in the morning, she will be gone forever,” said Adele.

This was too much for Jessie. “You won’t dare to do such a thing,” she
cried. “I shall tell my father never to let you step your foot on the
place again. You can just take your old paper dolls and go home.”

Adele arose speechless with rage. She deliberately tore Tinker Bell
into bits and threw the pieces at Jessie, then snatching up Wendy she
turned toward home.

At once Jessie seemed to hear her mother say: “We must be patient with
her; she has no mother.” And she was filled with remorse. “Come back,
come back,” she cried. “I didn’t mean it at all. You can have Wendy do
anything you like. And it doesn’t matter about Tinker Bell. No one ever
sees her anyway, for she’s just a little twinkling light. One of the
candles will do for her. I’m sorry; I really am, Adele.” So peace was
made, and the rest of the day passed happily enough.

When they went up to the house for dinner Sam met them. “I’ve got a new
pet for you,” he said to Jessie. “Come down to the barn after dinner
and I’ll show you.”

“Oh, what is it? Do tell us,” begged Jessie.

But Sam laughed and walked away, so Jessie knew it was no use to
question further, for Sam never would be coaxed to tell. She was in
great haste to finish her dinner, but Adele was hungry and seemed to
enjoy everything so much that Jessie felt that it would not be polite
to hurry her. She did not hesitate, however, to urge Adele to make
haste as soon as her last mouthful of dessert was swallowed. “Do come
right away,” she said. “I must see what Sam has. Aren’t you wild to
know? I am.”

“What do you think it is?” said Adele. “Maybe he was only fooling.”

“No, I am sure he was in earnest. I know Sam well enough for that. He
often brings me things, and I have an idea this is something alive.”

The two children were not long in reaching the barn, the big door of
which was open. It was a big, roomy place smelling of hay. Three horses
stood in their stalls, and as the little girls entered, a brown hen
flew cackling from one of the empty mangers. “I’ll have Sam get that
egg for us,” remarked Jessie. “I wonder where he is. Sam! Sam!” she
called.

A voice answered from the harness room and Jessie led the way thither.
Sam was sitting on a box mending harness. “Here we are,” said Jessie.
“Show us what you said you had.”

“See if you can find it,” said Sam, and Jessie immediately set to work
to search. She knew all the corners and crannies, if Adele did not.
It was quite like a game, and rather an entertaining one. Here they
came upon a setting hen who had stolen a nest in the hay; there a
squeaking mouse would scuttle across the timbers, scaring both girls
into shrieking. At last they made their discovery, for, as they were
searching in front of Barney’s stall, directly above their heads
something suddenly cried out: “Caw!”

The children looked up to see a black crow looking down at them from
a perch in the corner. “Oh, I believe that is it,” said Jessie. “Sam!
Sam! is it a crow?”

Sam came forward and lifted down the bird which was tethered by a
long cord. “Yes,” he said. “He is a young one that got a little hurt
somehow. I found him in the cornfield. He’ll learn to talk after a bit,
and I’ve clipped his wings so he can’t fly far. He will get as tame as
a dog after a while.”

Jessie put a finger on the shining black head of the crow. “Isn’t he
funny?” she said. “It will be perfectly lovely to have a pet who can
talk, and I think you are very good, Sam, to bring him to me. Will he
say real words, like people?”

“He won’t be quite as glib as a parrot, maybe, but he will say a
number of words, and it won’t be long before he will be following you
everywhere.”

“I don’t think he is very pretty,” remarked Adele, who was standing at
one side and did not seem to care about touching the bird.

“Oh, I think he is,” returned Jessie. “He is so jetty black, and has
such a knowing look. I like him very much. I don’t suppose I can keep
him in the house, Sam.”

“Better not, or he’ll be playing havoc with things. He’ll soon learn
to stay around with the chickens, and when you want to have him near
you can tether him. I knew one once that was as good as a watch-dog.
Let any one come around day or night and he’d set up his Caw! Caw! I’ll
take him out-of-doors for you now. He can’t get away very far, but I’d
better tether him. Where’ll you have him?”

“Oh, down by the brook where we play,” Jessie told him.

The two little girls led the way and Sam tethered the bird by a long
cord. He hopped around contentedly, and soon became tame enough to come
quite close to the girls and peck at their feet. “Polly can take care
of him, you see,” said Jessie. “I think she rather likes birds, at
least I’ve seen her holding them quite often.”

Adele laughed. “You do say such ridiculous things about Polly.”

Jessie paid no attention to this remark but continued her line of
thought. “I think she misses my playing with her as much as I used to,
so I’ll tell her she can play with the crow all she likes. I wonder
what we’d better call him. He’s as shiny and black as coal; you know
the kind that has all sorts of colors in it. He looks that way when he
turns his head.”

“I don’t think Coal would be a very pretty name,” objected Adele.

“I don’t think so either,” Jessie agreed with her. “I’ll have to think
of something else.” They turned over in their minds all the things
that suggested blackness or darkness, from ink to thunder-clouds,
finally hitting upon Ebony, which was a happy thought of Jessie’s who
remembered an ebony chest in her Aunt Lucy’s house. “We can call him
Ebon for short,” she said. “It is a nice, easy name.”

“And Eb would be still shorter,” said Adele. “Hello, Eb.”

The crow responded by putting his head to one side and remarking “Caw!”
in a way which made both girls laugh.

“When I get the gray kitten,” said Jessie, “I shall have two new pets.”

“And I haven’t any,” said Adele wistfully.

“I am sure Effie Hinsdale would give you one of the kittens,” said
Jessie. “I’ll ask mother if we can go there Saturday. I know she will
be glad--Effie I mean--to get a good home for another kitten. There is
a gray something like mine and two black ones.”

“I’d rather have black, I think, and I’ll call it Velvet,” said Adele
swift in decision.

“I’ve named mine Cloudy,” Jessie told her. “We can’t have them yet, you
know.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not big enough to leave their mother. I thought I saw a cat, a
yellow cat, on your porch one morning.”

“Oh, that’s the stable cat. He is very wild and won’t let me come near
him. I’d rather have a kitten anyway.”

“Well, we can go see the kittens at Effie’s even if we can’t take them
just yet, and we shall have the crow.”

“And Polly,” put in Adele with a laugh.

“She isn’t a pet; she is a friend,” replied Jessie with some dignity,
feeling that Adele meant to underrate Playmate Polly’s importance.

In a very short time Ebon had become quite tame, and followed the
little girls as if he were a dog. He constantly amused them by his
funny ways. Although he had not yet learned to talk, Sam declared that
he would in time, and meanwhile Adele went with Jessie to see Effie’s
kittens, and was promised a black one. So from having no companions
at all, Jessie felt that she would be very well supplied that winter.
“There will be you and your kitten, me and my kitten, Polly and Eb,”
she said to Adele. “That will be a great many of us to play together.”

“Yes, and there will be Miss Eloise and horrid lessons,” returned Adele.

Jessie sighed. “Yes,” she said, “I have been thinking of that. I wish
we could take lessons like pills and have done with them.”

“In jelly?”

“No, I’d just gulp them down with water and have some bread and jelly
afterward.”

The children were in the sitting-room, having just returned from
Effie’s. Mrs. Loomis was sitting there sewing. She smiled as she
listened to what the children were saying. “I think you will be doing
just about as you say,” she remarked. “You will swallow down your
lessons in the morning, and in the afternoon you will have your bread
and jelly in the shape of play. I don’t believe you will find the
lessons such a terrible dose as you think.”

“Indeed, I hope so,” returned Jessie with a sigh. “Come on, Adele;
Peter Pan has lost his shadow again and I must find it.” This Peter Pan
of Jessie’s lost his shadow much more frequently than did the original
one, for the shadow was nothing but a bit of newspaper fastened by a
piece of thread and it was torn off very often.

“I’m going to have a Peter Pan, too,” Adele announced triumphantly.
“Aunt Betty has written papa to bring me one the next time he comes.”

“There couldn’t be two Peter Pans,” said Jessie in an annoyed tone.

“There could, too. I am sure I have just as much right to name my doll
after the Peter Pan as you have. There are hundreds and hundreds of
George Washingtons in the world and lots and lots of Grover Clevelands.”

Jessie could not deny this, but she was not pleased with the idea
of there being another Peter Pan so close at hand. “If you name your
doll Peter Pan, I’ll call mine something else,” she said, and then she
added, “I won’t have any use for the grotto, of course, so I will just
pull it down.”

“I think you are horrid mean,” said Adele. “You know I do love that
grotto.”

“Well, you can make one for yourself,” said Jessie calmly. “There’s
just as much stuff for it on your side of the brook as there is on
mine.”

The tears rushed to Adele’s eyes. “You know I couldn’t. I should never
know how, and besides your side of the brook has a much better bank.”

“Well,” said Jessie, unmoved, “there simply cannot be two Peter Pans.”

Adele snatched up her hat and ran from the room. Jessie, watching her
from the window rather shamefacedly, saw her hurrying down the hill.
She waited till Adele had safely crossed the log, then she turned away
saying to herself, “There couldn’t possibly be two Peter Pans.”




_CHAPTER VI_

_A Mystery_




_CHAPTER VI_

_A Mystery_


Like most of their quarrels this between the two little girls did not
last long, for the next morning Jessie had scarcely finished breakfast
before Adele appeared eager and smiling. “Papa came last night,” she
said, “and so did Miss Eloise.”

“Then are we to begin taking our pills to-day?” asked Jessie.

Adele laughed. “No, not till to-morrow. Aunt Betty and Miss Eloise
want to talk, and besides Aunt Betty says Miss Eloise is tired and she
mustn’t begin to work right away.”

“I thought we were the ones who had to work,” remarked Jessie.

“Don’t you suppose it is going to be just as hard for Miss Eloise?” put
in Mrs. Loomis. “Do you imagine it is going to be very amusing to be
shut up with two wilful little girls who don’t like lessons?”

“Oh!” Jessie had never thought of this side of the question. She looked
at Adele.

“Oh,” said Adele. Then after a pause, “But she doesn’t have to do it if
she doesn’t want to, and we do have to.”

“Do you think all persons who do their duty in this world really prefer
not to do some other thing?” asked Mr. Loomis. “Some persons like to
teach, I admit, but there are many who have to learn to like teaching
just as much as you will have to learn to like studying. So don’t
imagine it will be all fun for Miss Laurent. From what I can learn Miss
Eloise consented to be your teacher because she is a loyal friend, and
as your Aunt Betty, Adele, dreaded the thought of having a stranger in
the house, Miss Eloise consented to come. She fortunately has a gift
for teaching, but she is willing to come to this little country village
because she can be of use to Miss Hallett, and because she thinks she
can help you little girls. I hope both of you will remember that, and
that you will do nothing to make her sorry that she decided to come.”

This very serious way of taking it made the two little girls feel quite
subdued. Adele was first to recover her spirits. “You don’t know what
I’ve got,” she sang out as she held something in her hand behind her.

“Let me see,” cried Jessie springing toward her. Adele backed away.

“Guess,” she said.

Jessie shook her head. “Can’t.”

“Something papa brought me.”

“Oh, I know; a doll.”

Adele displayed her new possession. “Yes, but I am not going to call it
Peter Pan, at least, not yet a while, for it is smaller than yours. I
don’t say I never will, but now I am going to name it after papa.”

“What is his name?” asked Jessie.

“James. I shall call my doll Jamie. Come on, let’s go down to the
grotto. I wish now I hadn’t asked for a boy-doll; if it had been a girl
one I could have called it Wendy instead of the paper one. Do you know,
Jessie, Miss Eloise says that Peter Pan’s house was in the tree tops.”

“So it was,” Jessie remembered.

“But I like the grotto better,” declared Adele. “Aren’t you ready to
go?”

“We can’t go yet; the grass is too wet. We’ll have to wait till the
sun dries it a little. We can play in here for a while.”

Jessie had not been very enthusiastic over the new doll though she
was relieved that it was not exactly like her own, and that Adele had
decided to call it Jamie. The doll wore a scarlet coat with tiny brass
buttons upon it, white trousers and a little red cap. He was quite a
pretty little fellow, and Jessie admired him, though she did not say
so. When the sun had dried the grass enough the children set forth,
Ebon hopping behind them, sometimes taking a short flight with flapping
wings. It was a bright autumn morning, the sky very blue and the air
pleasant.

“I’m so glad it isn’t raining,” remarked Adele, “for it is our last
morning.”

“Except Saturday. We shall not study on Saturdays, shall we?”

“Oh, no, of course not.”

They had reached the foot of the hill, and Adele made straight for
the grotto, but Jessie stopped in front of the little Polly Willow.
“Good-morning, Polly,” she said, gently patting the rough bark.

Adele watched her, and then said mockingly, “Good-morning, old Polly.”
Then she exclaimed, “I know what I’m going to do; I’m going to have a
house for my Peter Pan, and I am going to build it on Polly’s head.”

“Indeed you shall not,” replied Jessie. “She is mine and I shall not
let you. Besides you said you weren’t going to call your doll Peter
Pan.”

“I said I wasn’t at first.”

“This is at first.”

“No, it was at first when I said that; now it is after a while.”

Jessie turned her back on Adele and it seemed as if their last
evening’s quarrel would break out afresh.

“Are you mad, Jessie?” questioned Adele.

No answer.

“Are you, Jessie?”

“Yes, I am.” The reply came in offended tones. “You know I don’t like
you to make fun of Polly.”

“Then say you like me best.”

“I have said that.”

“But do you really mean it?”

“Ye-es,” rather reluctantly. “At least I do when you don’t do me so
mean.”

“I won’t have the house on Polly’s head then. I’ll take this high
bush.” She set the scarlet-coated little figure in a bush close by.
“He looks like some red flower there, doesn’t he? I’m going to get
something to build the house with.”

“What kind of things?”

“Oh, leaves and moss and things.”

“Then I’ll stay here and get the grotto in order,” Jessie decided.

“I’m going to make a cradle for Peter Pan,” said Adele as she moved off.

Jessie did not follow, but busied herself in sweeping up, with a bunch
of twigs, the bits of earth which had fallen down over night upon the
floor of the cave, and in putting the moss into place. Ebon, hopping
about, regarded her with his bright eyes, and coming nearer tried to
peck at the shining piece of glass which made the lake in the centre
of the grotto. “Go away, Eb,” cried Jessie. “You are getting too
fusty entirely.” She shoved him away with her elbow, and he strutted
off dipping his head and uttering some protesting caws. After a few
minutes Jessie had the grotto in pretty good order, but concluded
a few more pebbles would not come amiss. These must be found in the
brook. The water was very clear, and in the shallow parts one could
easily get at the pebbles lying at the bottom of the stream. There
was a scraggy tree trunk at the water’s edge, and on this Jessie
sat, holding on to one gnarly root while she reached over to get the
pebbles. Brown leaves went drifting by on the stream; a Bob White
called from the grass near by. Jessie nodded understandingly to
Playmate Polly. “You like it, don’t you, Polly, or you wouldn’t stay
here. The idea of any one’s building a house on your head. I shall put
your hat on and then you will be able to show that you are not just an
ordinary tree. But now I must take back my pebbles.”

She gathered up the little stones and returned to the grotto where she
went on with her paving till she heard Adele’s voice saying: “I have
some beauty leaves all red and yellow, and I found some moss, too.”
Then an exclamation: “Why, where is my Peter Pan? Jessie Loomis, you
have hidden him just to tease me.”

“’Deed I have not,” returned Jessie. “I have been getting pebbles from
the brook.”

“I put him right here on top of this bush,” said Adele, “and he’s gone,
so you must have taken him. You did it on purpose just because you
didn’t want me to have a Peter Pan.”

“I did not,” returned Jessie indignantly. “He could easily have fallen
off. Look all around, in the grass and the leaves.”

“Has Mrs. Mooky been here?” asked Adele. “You know that story of the
little Tom Thumb that the cow was going to eat.”

“I believe Mrs. Mooky was somewhere about,” Jessie told her. “No,” she
remembered, “it wasn’t near here that I saw her; it was on the other
side of the fence in the pasture.”

Adele began to hunt around diligently, Jessie joining in the search,
but no lost doll was to be found. Once a bunch of scarlet berries on a
bush deceived them into thinking that by some mysterious means the doll
had been spirited away. “For you know he could fly,” said Adele.

At last they were obliged to give up looking, and Adele went home quite
convinced that Jessie knew where the doll was hidden, and Jessie, in
her turn went off up the hill toward the house, hurt and distressed to
think that Adele should not have believed her.

She went back after dinner to renew the search, and became satisfied
after a long hunt that Adele had mistaken the bush and that she had
put it somewhere else. A hollow stump in the neighborhood seemed the
most likely place, but though she managed to climb up where she could
peep into the hollow, it was all dark within and a stick poked in did
nothing more than scare a chipmunk nearly out of his wits, so that
presently he came out chattering and bristling with rage and fear.
Jessie went home and told her mother all about it, and after Mrs.
Loomis had gone with her to see what she could do, they both concluded
that the doll must have fallen far down into this same hollow stump,
and that it could not be found unless the stump were grubbed up.

“Do you think I ought to give her my Peter Pan?” Jessie asked
hesitatingly. “I like him best of all my dolls except Charity.”

“No, I don’t think you need do that,” her mother told her, “but when
I go to town I will try to find one that you can give her to replace
this.”

“May I tell her so?”

“Yes, if you like. I think if you do, it will convince her that you
spoke the truth.”

“She ought to have believed me anyhow.”

“Circumstances were against you, my dear. I know it is very hard to be
suspected, but there was some reason for Adele’s doing so, and I am
sure she will be satisfied when you tell her she is to have another
doll.”

“May I go over now and tell her?”

“Yes, if you won’t stay too long.”

Jessie set off toward the brook. She did not fail to search for the
doll as she went, but she stopped to lay her hand upon Playmate Polly
and to say: “You would have believed me, Polly. You always do believe
me, and I don’t think I shall ever tell Adele again that I like her
best.”

Playmate Polly made no answer, but the murmuring brook sang a little
song that Jessie liked and the whispering trees seemed to say: “We
know, we know.” The same little chipmunk was sitting on his haunches on
top of the hollow stump. He chattered fiercely as he saw Jessie, and
leaping into the nearest pine tree went whisking off. Jessie was not
sure but she liked her favorite playground better without the presence
of Adele, and she almost wished the yellow house were still empty.
It seemed as if she and Adele were continually at odds, and though
Adele professed to care very much for her, she didn’t see how it were
possible when she doubted her word.

She went rather slowly through the piece of woods and through the
orchard which lay on the other side of the brook. She realized that
now she would meet Miss Eloise, and though she wanted much to see what
manner of person she was, she rather dreaded the meeting, and besides
she really did not feel in a very friendly mood toward Adele just then,
only she could not have her go on believing untrue things. At last she
came out close to the garden fence. She stood still for a moment before
she opened the gate and went through. There was no one about, but she
heard voices from the front porch, and as she turned the corner of the
house she saw that there were four persons on the porch, Miss Betty,
a strange lady with fair hair who must be Miss Eloise, a man who was
probably Adele’s father, and Adele herself. Jessie paused where she
stood but Adele had heard the click of the gate and had caught sight of
the visitor.

“There she is now,” cried Adele. “Have you found him, Jessie? Have you
found him?”

Jessie came slowly forward. “No,” she said shyly. “Mother helped me to
look. We think he must have fallen down into a hollow stump and has
gone way down inside, but mother says she is going to town very soon
and she will get you another doll just like it.”

Miss Betty was listening. “Indeed she must not do that, Jessie,” she
said. “A little cheap doll like that is no loss, besides it was not you
who lost it, but Adele, and her father can easily get another when he
goes back to the city.”

“But,” Jessie hesitated, then she turned to Miss Betty. “I want mother
to get it so Adele will believe I spoke the truth, that I don’t tell
stories.” Jessie held her head high.

Miss Betty looked at Adele. “Why, honey,” she said, “I am sure you
never told Jessie that she wasn’t truthful.”

Adele nodded. “Hm, hm, I did, because I thought she might have hidden
the doll to tease me and because she didn’t want me to have a Peter
Pan.”

“But she has proved that she does want you to have one by asking her
mother to replace the one that is lost, and besides, you told me that
you were the last one that had the doll.”

Adele rushed at Jessie and flung her arms around her. “Wasn’t I
horrid?” she said. “I’ll believe every word you say after this. I
suppose you will say,” she whispered, “that Polly always has believed
you.”

“Yes,” Jessie nodded, “she certainly does.”

“I don’t care,” returned Adele defiantly. “I believe after all that she
is a thief, and that she stole my doll.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Miss Betty. “You both look as
fierce as turkey-cocks.”

“I’m talking about that old Polly,” answered Adele.

“You absurd children!” said Miss Betty laughing. “Come, Jessie, don’t
you want to meet your teacher? She is very anxious to meet you.
Eloise, dear, this is your other little pupil.”

Jessie was conscious of a pair of gray eyes that looked at her very
steadily but very kindly, and of two warm hands that held hers, but she
was overcome with shyness and said not a word.

“Do you think you are going to like her more than you do me?” Adele
asked Miss Eloise anxiously.

“You jealous little monkey,” said her aunt. “Why shouldn’t she like
Jessie best? Don’t you want her to?”

“I want her to like us both alike,” replied Adele.

“A perfectly safe reply,” said Miss Eloise. “I hope I have a place in
my heart big enough for both of you, my dears.”

“This is papa,” said Adele swinging Jessie around in front of Mr.
Hallett, who held out his hand.

“I hope you and this will-o’-the-wisp of ours will be good friends,” he
said to Jessie. “She needs some one to tone her down a little, and keep
her from having tantrums.” He softly patted Adele’s hand as he spoke.

“Jessie has tantrums, too,” spoke up Adele, “but they are pouty ones,
not screamy like mine.”

Jessie blushed and felt greatly embarrassed. She wished Adele were not
quite so outspoken.

“Never mind, dear,” said Miss Eloise leaning over and putting her arm
around Jessie. “If we don’t all have tantrums we all feel like it
sometimes, and when we were little girls very few of us did not have
them. We generally outgrew them, or learned self-control, and that is
what you and Adele will do.”

Jessie looked up gratefully and from that moment liked Miss Eloise.

So soon did this lady put her at her ease that in a few minutes she
found herself talking quite glibly about her home, her pets, and her
reasons for leaving school, realizing that she would not in the least
mind having lessons the next day. But presently she remembered that she
was not to stay too long, so she took her leave, Adele calling after
her: “Remember, you are not to get another doll. I won’t let you, and
I’d rather have a Wendy anyhow.”




_CHAPTER VII_

_Taking Pills_




_CHAPTER VII_

_Taking Pills_


It was with rather mixed feelings that Jessie set out the next morning
to begin lessons with Miss Eloise. She didn’t enjoy the idea of
studying, but she did like Miss Eloise and it would be quite a novelty
to have but one other schoolmate. She felt rather important, too, from
the fact that she was to begin French and music. This last thought gave
confidence to her step and brightness to her face when she appeared on
the porch of the yellow house.

Adele danced out to meet her. “We’re all ready,” she said. “Miss Eloise
and I have been fixing up the schoolroom, and we have put flowers in
there so it looks very nice. We are to have a table between us, you and
I. You shall choose which end you like best and I will take the other.
Elle est ici, mademoiselle,” she called out when they reached the top
of the stairs, and Jessie suddenly remembered that Adele knew French
almost as well as English, and she felt herself very ignorant.

However, Miss Eloise gave her such a cordial greeting, and the
schoolroom was so bright and cheery that she soon forgot everything but
her interest in choosing which end of the table she preferred, and in
looking at the books Miss Eloise had piled up. They were all fresh and
new and Jessie liked new books. “I don’t know a word of French,” she
said when she had seated herself.

“You need not say that very long,” said Miss Eloise.

“She need not say it five minutes from now,” put in Adele. “She can
begin with _Bon jour_, can’t she, Miss Eloise? Say _Bon jour_, Jessie.”

Jessie obediently repeated the words.

“Now you can say good-day,” Adele told her, “and you can’t say any more
that you don’t know a word of French.” Then she turned to Miss Eloise
and chatted away volubly for a minute or two while Jessie listened and
wondered if she would ever be so glib with a foreign tongue.

“I think I will make a rule that you are to speak to each other only
in French during lesson hours,” said Miss Eloise. “That will give you
both a chance and Jessie will be surprised how soon she will be able
to understand and speak a number of words. Now we will start in with
something else. Come here, Jessie, and show me how far you have gone in
arithmetic and how well you can spell.”

It turned out that Jessie was far ahead of Adele in these studies, but
that the latter knew more history and had a smattering of a number of
other things which Jessie knew nothing about. But after a while Miss
Eloise managed to arrange classes for them, dropping some of Adele’s
studies, which did not seem necessary for the present, and adding
some to Jessie’s list. But they had hardly settled down to real work
before it was time for a morsel of lunch and a fifteen minutes’ run
out-of-doors.

“I don’t think those were very bad pills to take,” said Jessie as the
two sat munching their apples on the porch steps.

“They will be worse after a while, I suppose,” said Adele. “Wait till
you have to sit at the piano and practice stupid exercises half an
hour at a time. You won’t like that one bit.”

“I suppose not,” returned Jessie with a sigh. “But you don’t have to do
that all the time, do you? You will have pieces after a while.”

“Oh, after a fashion, but they are not what I call tunes,” she said
scornfully.

This sounded very discouraging, but Jessie was not going to give up
hope. “Maybe some teachers do that way,” she said, “but I don’t believe
Miss Eloise will.”

“Wait and see,” returned Adele with a wise shake of the head.

The tinkle of a little bell took them indoors to lessons again, and
the next hour or two passed quickly, and to Jessie’s surprise very
pleasantly. “It is much nicer than going to the Hill School,” she told
her mother. “I know a whole lot of French and some of my notes on the
piano. When I know them all am I going to have a piano, mother?”

“Not at present,” Mrs. Loomis told her. “You are to practice on Adele’s
piano for a while. Pianos are rather expensive things and we shall
have to save up a lot of eggs and butter before we can buy one.”

“Adele is richer than I am, isn’t she, mother?”

“In some things, perhaps, but she has no mother nor brothers.”

Jessie threw her arms around her mother’s neck and gave her a mighty
hug. “And you are worth all the money in the world,” she said. “My two
brothers are pretty far away, but I do see them sometimes, and that’s
much better than not having any at all. Yes, I believe I am much richer
than Adele. She hasn’t any pets either. Where is Eb, mother?”

“Oh, my dear, I don’t know. He is out-of-doors somewhere. We cannot
have him in the house very often, for he gets into so much mischief.”

Jessie went out to find Eb, but not seeing him near, she concluded to
go to Playmate Polly and tell her all about her morning at the yellow
house, for Polly was always a good listener. It was rather pleasant,
too, to feel free to do exactly as she liked after the restriction of a
morning in the schoolroom.

She was sitting on a big rock talking quietly in an undertone to
Polly, when with a whoop and a hallo two boys came vaulting over the
fence and rushed toward her. For a moment Jessie was so startled that
she could give only little shrieks, but these soon changed to a squeal
of delight when she discovered the two intruders to be her brothers,
Max and Walter. “Oh! oh!” she cried. “Where did you come from, and how
do you happen to be home to-day?”

“Why, it is just a piece of luck for us,” said Max catching her up and
kissing her. “One of the boys, Carl Potter, is ill with something, the
doctor doesn’t know just what yet, and so he thought we boys had better
come home for a few days till he finds out whether it is diphtheria or
not. Of course I don’t mean it is luck for old Carl, but it gives us a
holiday.”

“I hope it isn’t diphtheria,” said Jessie sympathetically, “though it
is nice to have you home; it does seem so quiet without you. I have a
thousand things to tell you.”

“Fire away,” said Max.

“Well, I don’t go to the Hill School any more, but I have lessons with
Adele--she lives in the yellow house, you know. I know some French.
_Bon jour, monsieur. Comme portez vous?_”

“Pshaw!” interrupted Walter. “I can beat that with Latin.”

“Let’s hear you,” said Jessie.

“Stop your fooling,” put in Max. “Don’t be such a blower, Walter. I
know just about how much Latin you know. Never mind him, Jess, go on.”

“I have begun music, too,” Jessie turned to her elder brother, “and
some day I shall have a piano when mother can save enough butter and
eggs to get me one.”

“That will be fine,” said Max encouragingly.

“Then you don’t see old Ezra any more,” said Walter, “and can’t tell us
anything about the trains and the engines.”

“No.” Jessie shook her head. “I haven’t been to see him. He had
rheumatism, and I fell on the track one day; that’s why I stopped going
to school. There is a cross man in Ezra’s place and I don’t like him.”

“I say, that’s too bad,” said Max. “Old Ezra is always so good-natured
about letting you flag trains and things.”

“I’ve got a crow,” suddenly exclaimed Jessie, “and his name is Eb.
That’s short for Ebony. He doesn’t talk yet, but he is going to, Sam
says. I think he must be up in the barn. Come, and I’ll show him to
you. I have a new friend, too. Her name is Adele Pauline Falaise
Hallett, and she lives in the yellow house.”

“Mother wrote to us that the yellow house was taken,” said Walter. “I’m
sorry, for now we fellows can’t go there and play in that empty barn
like we used to.”

“I thought Effie Hinsdale was your best friend,” said Max to his sister.

“Effie is a friend, of course, but she lives across the railroad,
and I can’t go to see her unless some one goes with me. Besides, she
has a new friend, too; a girl named Anna Sharp that has come to the
neighborhood, so Effie don’t mind being second best. She has a gray
kitten that is to be mine when it is big enough.”

“Girls are always so crazy about cats and kittens,” said Walter
scornfully. “I’d much rather have the crow.”

“Well, you can’t have him. Sam brought him to me,” returned Jessie
a little sharply. Boys were entirely too fond of making slighting
remarks about girls, she thought.

“Oh, keep your old crow,” returned Walter. “No doubt you’ll be glad
enough to get rid of him some day.”

“Why?” asked Jessie.

“Wait and see,” replied Walter mysteriously. “Say, Max, let’s go see
old Ezra. Maybe he is all right now, and I want to know about the
trains. We’ll see enough of the old crow, and it is a good time to go
to Ezra’s.”

“I want to go, too,” said Jessie.

“Well, you can’t,” returned Walter. “We don’t want girls tagging
everywhere we go.”

“Oh, let her come,” put in Max. “You might be a little more decent
to her the first day you get home. You can come, Jess.” Max was the
eldest and Walter generally accepted his lead, so Jessie put her hand
confidingly in her big brother’s and they set out. She thought Walter
was very disagreeable to speak to her as he did when he had been
separated from her all these weeks, and she took pains not to address
a word to him on the way. She chatted to Max, however talking of the
things she knew would interest him: the change in the schedule,
how 589 was very late one day, and how she had flagged a train one
afternoon, how 248 had a hot box one morning so it had to stop on a
siding. When Walter put eager questions to her she simply gave him a
dignified stare and went on talking to Max. Her triumph was complete
when they arrived at the crossing to find that Ezra was back again at
his post and that his best greeting was for the little girl.

“Well, well, well,” he exclaimed, “here you are at last. I certainly
have missed you, little girl. Not going to school any more? I was
afraid you might be sick. Been watching for ye every day since I got
over my rheumatiz. When you going to start again? Hallo, boys.” He gave
a nod to each, but it was plain to see that it was Jessie who had the
warmest welcome.

“I’ve stopped going to school,” Jessie told him. “You weren’t here,
you know, Ezra, so father and mother were afraid to have me cross the
track. I tripped and fell one day when the train was coming.”

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Ezra. “Sykes never told me of that. I was in such
misery I couldn’t think about much else but my pains for a while. You
don’t say you ain’t going back at all?”

“Not this winter,” Jessie told him. “I am studying with Adele Hallett
at the yellow house.”

“They’re new folks, ain’t they? Well, I certainly am sorry to lose the
sight of ye every day. It is too bad Sykes had to take my place or ye
might be mounting the hill every morning just the same as usual. Father
knew I’d look out for ye, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. He said as long as you were there he didn’t have any fear,
even if the trains were changed. But after I fell that day when the
train was coming, mother said she would never feel easy again.”

“Too bad, too bad. I am sorry.” Ezra took off his cap and wiped his
bald head with a red handkerchief. He was a little wrinkled-faced old
man with mild blue eyes. He wore a little fringe of beard under his
chin, and his pleasant mouth always widened to a smile for his friends.
“Right warm day for October, ain’t it?” he said pulling up his stool
which stood by the door of the little house. “Wish I had more chairs
to offer ye. Guess ladies will have to come first.” He waved Jessie to
the stool.

“Oh, no.” Jessie refused the proffered seat. “We’d rather you’d sit
there, Ezra. The boys and I can do just as well with these railroad
ties that are piled up here. Has 589 gone by yet?”

Ezra took out his watch. “She’s due in just five minutes. I thought I
heard her whistling for Boyds a while ago. She’s on time to-day.”

“May I hold the flag?” said Jessie eagerly. “It has been such a long
time since I did.”

“To be sure ye may,” returned Ezra, taking the flag from where it stood
leaning against the door. “Yes, I thought so; she’s whistling for the
cut.”

So far Jessie had monopolized the conversation and now Walter spoke up.
“Have they put on any new engines, Ezra?”

He shook his head. “No, Leander still runs old 61 and keeps her
shining.”

“Any accidents?” asked Max.

“Glad to say ther hain’t. Come near being one down by Millersville the
other day.”

“Tell us about it.”

“Have to wait till 589 has went by. Here, honey,” he turned to Jessie.
“Get up and be all ready. She’ll whistle in a minute for our crossing.”

Jessie took her place on the stool set for her, flag in hand, Ezra
standing close by, and presently there was a shrill whistle and next
the train flew by.

“It is so exciting,” said Jessie turning a beaming face to her brothers.

“Humph!” exclaimed Walter in rather a dissatisfied way. He did not like
it that Jessie should be having all the fun. “What about the accident?”
he said turning to Ezra.

“There wasn’t none.”

“Well, I mean the one that nearly was.”

Ezra launched forth into an account of how the freight train from the
west was on the track and a special was behind her. Somehow Bill Downs
didn’t get the orders clear and backed into a siding just in time to
avoid a crash. “Reversed, sir,” said Ezra. “Heard the special whistle
at the cut and put on steam so he reached the siding in time to back.
If he’d been a second later all would have been up.”

The children listened attentively. Bill Downs was a familiar figure
to them, and his engine an old acquaintance, so his escape was of
momentous interest.

After a little more railroad gossip the boys concluded it was time to
return, as the sun was setting and the short afternoon was nearly over.
“Come again, come again,” said Ezra, his eyes on Jessie who waved her
hand to him till a turn in the road hid him from sight.

“I wish I had taken him some apples,” she said. “His trees have hardly
any on them this year, and he is so fond of them.”

“We’ll take some to him to-morrow,” said Walter importantly. “You
needn’t bother.”

“I thought of it first,” said Jessie, not liking to have her ideas
taken possession of in this style.

“That makes no difference,” returned Walter. “The few you could carry
wouldn’t do much good. Max and I can take a big basketful.”

Jessie did not answer, but she determined to carry out her plan if
she could. If going away to school made Walter like this she didn’t
think it was doing him much good. The boys left her at the first gate
for they caught sight of their father in a field near by, and joined
him, so Jessie went up to the house alone. She sought her mother
immediately. “Mother,” she said, “I wish you would send Walter to
another school.”

“Why, my dear,” returned Mrs. Loomis, looking up with a smile.

“Because he’s so--so--he has such a contemptibleness for girls since
he’s been away. He used not to care when I wanted to go with him and
Max, and now he is at home again he just wants to put me down all the
time. I said I wanted to take some apples to Ezra, and he says he is
going to. I thought of it first, mother, and Ezra has been so good to
me. Couldn’t you let Sam go with me to-morrow morning, and carry a big
basketful, bigger than Walter and Max could carry?”

Mrs. Loomis was thoughtful for a moment. She realized that Walter had
no right to set aside Jessie’s little plan, so she said, “I am afraid
Sam cannot be spared, but I will tell you what can be done. I have to
go to Mrs. Traill’s to-morrow morning, and you could go as far as the
crossing with me. We can carry a big basket of apples in the phaeton
and leave them for Ezra, then you can go on to your lessons from
there.”

“Oh, lovely!” cried Jessie. “You always do think of just the right
thing, mother. Will you tell Walter we are going to take the apples?”

“Yes, and I think it is right that you should be the one to go with
them, for we appreciate very much his kindness to you.”

No more was said then, but at the supper table Mrs. Loomis told her
husband what had been arranged and asked him to select a lot of their
finest apples for the basket. Jessie gave Walter a triumphant look
across the table. He answered by making a mouth at her, but she did not
care as she had her mother on her side.

“Sneaky thing,” whispered Walter as she passed him after supper.

“Sneaky yourself,” returned Jessie. “I told mother how horrid you were.”

“Tattletale,” returned Walter. “Just like a girl.”

This time Jessie had no words except the expressive exclamation “Pff!”
given with a most contemptuous toss of the head.




_CHAPTER VIII_

_Dapple Gray_




_CHAPTER VIII_

_Dapple Gray_


The rest of the time that the boys were at home Jessie did not see much
of them. She found so many things to interest her at the yellow house,
that she enjoyed the novelty of it, and moreover, when she was there
she was free from Walter’s teasing, so she spent most of her time with
Adele, to the latter’s delight.

The afternoon of the day when the apples were taken to Ezra, the two
little girls sought their playground by the brook, but Max and Walter
discovered them, and as they did not want their secrets known, they
quickly covered up the grotto and beat a hasty retreat across the
brook. “I don’t mind Max so much,” Jessie explained, “though even he
teases sometimes, but Walter is such a worry when he sets out to be,
and if he knew about Playmate Polly and Peter Pan’s grotto he would be
sure to do something to them just to pay me back for taking the apples.
So we will play in your garden or the summer-house. I will take
Charity and you can get one of your dolls.”

“The back porch is a good place,” returned Adele. “I am sorry your
brothers aren’t nice and I am glad I haven’t any.”

“But they are nice,” returned Jessie on the defensive. “They are very
nice. All boys tease and Max was lovely the other day when I wanted to
go with them. He is older than Walter. I suppose that is the reason.
Since Walter has been going to boarding-school he thinks himself so
smart.”

The two little girls trudged up the hill toward the yellow house and
as they entered the garden they heard some one calling, “Adele! Adele!
where are you?”

“That’s Aunt Betty,” said Adele. “I wonder what she wants.”

“Let’s go see,” returned Jessie.

They ran around the corner of the house. Miss Betty and Miss Eloise
were both on the front porch. By the steps was standing a little gray
pony harnessed to a small pony cart. “Oh, dear, company, I suppose,”
said Adele disgustedly. “I wish we’d stayed away. I suppose now I
shall have to be kissed and called a sweet child.”

“I wonder who it is,” said Jessie more curious. “That turnout does
not belong to any one around here. I know just what every one drives.
Effie Hinsdale’s mother has a white horse; the minister’s wife drives a
sorrel; Mrs. Traill has two black horses and----”

But she went no further for Miss Betty had seen the two children and
was calling out, “Come here, dears, such a lovely surprise for you!
Whose do you think that is, Adele?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. It isn’t the cousins from the city, is it, Aunt
Bet?” said Adele.

“No.” Miss Betty shook her head. “It belongs to the cousin of the
cousins from the city.”

Adele looked bewildered. “Who is that?”

Miss Betty laughed. “Who is your cousins’ cousin? Don’t you know?”

“Aunt Betty, you don’t mean me!” cried Adele. “It isn’t mine. It
couldn’t possibly be.”

“That is exactly whose it is,” Miss Betty told her. “Your father has
sent it to you for a birthday gift.”

“But my birthday is past and gone.”

“That is true. He couldn’t get what he wanted at once, so he had to
wait, and so your present has just arrived.”

Adele rushed forward and clasped the pony’s neck. “Oh, you dear
beautiful thing,” she cried. “I love you. Oh, Jessie, isn’t he a
beauty?”

Jessie could but agree that he certainly was.

“And can I drive him myself?” asked Adele eagerly.

“When you learn how,” she was told.

“I can drive,” declared Jessie. “I often drive when I am out with
mother.”

“Your father says he is very gentle,” remarked Miss Eloise to Adele.

“Then couldn’t we try him now?” begged Adele.

“Couldn’t Jessie drive him just a little way to see how he goes?”

Miss Betty looked at Miss Eloise. “Do you think it would be safe?” she
said.

“Can you really drive, Jessie?” asked Miss Eloise.

“I truly can,” Jessie told her. “I often drive all the way. I can turn
out for the big teams and I can drive in through the gates as straight
as anything.”

“Then you may jump in and show us what you can do,” Miss Betty
consented, and the little girls were not slow in obeying.

“How far may we go?” asked Jessie taking up the reins.

“Oh, not out of sight. Just up and down the road where we can see you,”
Miss Betty directed.

Jessie proudly turned the pony’s head toward the gate, drove through
without accident, and soon the little pony was trotting up the road.
Miss Betty and Miss Eloise came to the gate to watch. Jessie turned
carefully and brought the pony back in triumph.

“Can’t she drive well?” said Adele admiringly. “She is going to teach
me, and when she isn’t here to do it Otto can.” Otto was the Halletts’
man. “What shall I name him, Aunt Betty?”

“Why not call him Dapple Gray?” suggested Miss Eloise.

“Good! That will just suit him, but I shall never lend him to a lady to
ride him far away. Oh, no, we don’t want to get out yet.”

“But the little pony must be tired. He has come a long distance to-day.”

That put another face upon the matter and Adele was quite willing that
Jessie should give up the reins to Otto who led Dapple Gray to the
stable.

“I never knew such lovely things as happen nowadays,” said Adele as
she and Jessie returned to the garden. “First I met you and we had the
lovely plays down by the brook, then came Eb, and now this dear Dapple
Gray! Before I came here weeks and weeks used to go by and nothing at
all happened. I do hope we can go driving every day by ourselves; it
would be such fun.”

Within a week Adele had learned to manage her pony pretty well, and the
two little girls were allowed to take a short drive each day, not going
out of sight of the house, but in time Adele tired of this and was bent
upon going farther. She begged and entreated till Miss Betty was on the
point of yielding, and at last agreed to take a longer drive than usual
in her own carriage that Adele and Jessie might follow in the pony
cart. This satisfied Adele for a week, but there came a day when Miss
Betty had one of her severe headaches, and Miss Eloise was not willing
to leave her, so the two little girls were told they could take their
drive alone, but must not go out of sight.

They started off contentedly enough, but soon Adele became tired of
the monotonous drive up and down in front of the house. “Miss Eloise
is with Aunt Betty and I know she isn’t thinking about us,” she said.
“We may just as well go a little further and she will never know. It is
so silly to go up and down, up and down, this stupid road and nowhere
else.”

“Oh, but it wouldn’t be right, whether she sees us or not,” protested
Jessie.

“There isn’t a bit of harm in it,” Adele insisted. “We go every day,
and just because we are not with them it doesn’t matter. I am going
further whether any one likes it or not.” She gave a little jerk to the
reins and Dapple Gray started off on a trot. The excitement of a faster
gait stirred Adele to further desire for a rapid drive. “I am tired to
death of this old road,” she declared. “I want to go somewhere new. I
am going to turn up this way.”

“Oh, no, please don’t,” begged Jessie.

“You needn’t say a word,” Adele interrupted. “You haven’t a thing to
do with it. This is my pony and my cart, and you have to do it to sit
still. You are my company and I am taking you to drive.”

Jessie felt that this was quite true, though she knew that Adele was
doing wrong. She realized that she ought to do something, but she did
not know just what. If she insisted upon getting out and going home
she would leave Adele all alone, and that would be worse than staying
to help her out of any difficulty into which she might fall. “Perhaps
I’d better drive,” she ventured after a while when Adele had recklessly
driven over a big stone and had almost bumped into a stump by the way.

“No, you shall not,” returned Adele. “The only way to learn to do a
thing is to keep on doing it, no matter if you do it wrong sometimes.
Papa always says so.”

Jessie had nothing to reply to this, but she watched Adele carefully.
They were coming to a hill. Jessie looked around earnestly. “Oh!” she
exclaimed, “do be careful, Adele. We are coming to the cut. It is at
the foot of this hill. We came by the mill, I remember, and this leads
by the old schoolhouse. We’d better turn and go back.”

“No, thank you,” replied Adele, “I’m going on. If you are scared you
can get out and walk.”

Jessie’s feelings were deeply hurt. She wasn’t exactly scared, but she
knew at the foot of the hill was the railroad cut, and though there
was always some one there, if the horse took fright, or if anything
happened to the cart or harness, it might mean an accident. “We have to
cross the railroad,” she said after a pause.

“Well, suppose we do; other people cross it,” was the answer.

“Hold him in,” cried Jessie sharply, clutching at the reins as Dapple
Gray went down the hill at a more rapid rate than she felt safe.

“Just let me alone,” cried Adele giving Dapple Gray a light touch with
the whip.

“Don’t! Don’t!” cried Jessie, but Adele only laughed, and directly they
were at the foot of the hill where the railroad ran. Instead of taking
a clean straight course across it, Adele tried to drive diagonally.
“There’s a whistle,” cried Jessie in alarm. Adele raised the whip
again. Dapple Gray made a plunge forward. A wheel caught and presently
Jessie was conscious that she was rolling down an embankment. Then she
knew nothing for some time.

When she came to her senses, she was lying in a little gully among some
bushes. She raised her head and then struggled to her feet. “No bones
broken,” she said to herself, though she felt shaken and sore. She
stood up and looked around. At a little distance she saw Adele sitting
sobbing miserably. She ran toward her as fast as her bruises would
allow. “Oh, Adele! Adele!” she cried, “are you hurt?”

“Oh! my arm, my arm,” moaned Adele. “I believe it is broken.”

“Oh, dear, dear, how dreadful,” responded Jessie. “Where is Dapple
Gray?”

“I don’t know.”

Jessie climbed the bank and there saw Dapple Gray patiently standing,
a broken wheel showing what had happened. The wheel had caught in the
track and although both girls were thrown out as the wheel gave way the
little pony had not bolted, but stood his ground. Jessie went up to
him, and began to unfasten the harness. “It won’t do for you to stand
so near the track,” she said. “You were a dear good pony not to run.
The cart isn’t on the track, I am glad to say.” She led the pony down
the bank to where Adele sat. “We are quite a way from home,” she said.
“Shall you be afraid to stay here while I go for some one to take us
back?”

“Oh, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” Adele wept.

“If you could come up a little higher, you could watch me as I go,”
said Jessie. “Ezra lives the nearest, and I am going down the track to
call him.” Adele, still moaning and crying, allowed herself to be led
to a higher spot. “I don’t think there will be any more trains for some
time,” Jessie assured her, “and if you stay right here you can watch me
going and coming. I will be as quick as I can.”

Adele suffered herself to be left and Jessie set out. Further down the
railroad spanned a gully through which ran the brook. The only way to
cross it was upon a narrow boardwalk on one side the bridge, this being
used by the workmen as a short cut. The longer way was to go down hill
and around to a foot-bridge higher up the brook. Jessie hesitated when
she reached the path which led down hill. Should she go that way, or
should she venture across the railroad bridge? If she did not look down
and hold closely to the railing, perhaps it would not be so bad. She
decided to try. So she stepped cautiously upon the planks and went on
slowly, doing very well till she reached the middle, when incautiously
she glanced down at the rushing water below. For one moment she felt
sick and faint. Everything swam around. Then she closed her eyes and
held tightly to the railing, stepping along slowly, each moment seeming
an hour. In a few minutes her heart stopped its rapid beating and her
head felt steady, so she opened her eyes and fixed them on the opposite
bank, not once turning them from there, and at last she was safely over.

A little beyond was Ezra’s house with its smiling garden and white
fence. Although she felt sore and bruised she began to run, forgetting
her pain in her anxiety to reach the house. It was about Ezra’s supper
time; there would be no trains coming or going at this time of day,
and she would be sure to find the old man at home. So she began to
call, “Ezra! Ezra!” and presently she saw his gray head over the fence.

He opened the gate and came out to meet her. “Why, little girl!” he
exclaimed, “what are you doing on this road? ’Tain’t your way from
home. Why, your face is cut and you’re all mussed up. Tumble down?”

“Oh, Ezra! Ezra!” cried Jessie, seizing his hand, “the pony cart upset
us over the bank there by the cut, and Adele has hurt her arm. The pony
is all right. He is standing just as still, but the cart-wheel is off
so we can’t get home, at least I don’t know how to get Adele and the
pony home.”

“Where did you say they were?” asked Ezra.

“On the other side of the gully, there by the cut.”

“You didn’t come over the railroad bridge?”

“Yes, it was the shortest way,” said Jessie simply.

Ezra uttered an exclamation. “You poor little tot, what would your
mother say? Suppose you had slipped under the hand-rail and had fallen
into the water?”

“I shut my eyes when I got dizzy.”

“Humph! Well, you don’t go back, that’s all. Come right in here and let
my daughter straighten you out, wash off that poor little battered up
face. Mark and I will go get the pony and the little girl. What do ye
say her name is?”

“Adele. Adele Hallett.”

Ezra nodded. “Belongs to the yellow house. What ye been doing driving
off in that direction by yourselves, is what I want to know.”

Jessie was silent. She did not like to blame Adele, though she knew it
was entirely her fault. “I told Adele I’d hurry back,” she said.

“You’re not going back,” declared Ezra. “I’ll look after that young
miss myself. Come right in the house. Here, Kitty,” he spoke to a young
woman at the door. “Here’s Miss Loomis that brought us those good
apples. She’s had an accident up the road a piece. Her and a young miss
was out driving, and as far as I can make out they got catched on the
railroad and a wheel came off. You tidy her up a bit while Mark and me
goes after the other one.”

Jessie had often seen Ezra’s daughter as well as her husband Mark, and
she was quite willing to be taken indoors to have her face bathed, the
dirt brushed from her clothes and herself generally looked after. There
was a tremendous bruise on her leg, one stocking was badly torn, and
the side of her face was scraped and sore where she had fallen against
the bank.

“It’s lucky you weren’t killed outright,” said Kitty, when by dint of
much questioning she learned how the thing happened. “Pappy’ll be back
in no time. You just set still and wait for him. I reckon your ma’ll be
glad to see you alive when she hears what’s went on.”

She established Jessie in a chair by the window and continued her
preparations for supper. In a very short time Ezra and Mark were back
again with Adele in the wagon and Dapple Gray behind it. “I conclude
she has broken her arm,” said Ezra to his daughter as he came into the
house. “There ain’t no time to lose in getting her to the doctor to
have it sot, so I think the quickest way is to drive her right to Dr.
Sadtler’s and let him see what’s wrong. I ain’t said nothin’ to her
about what I think.”

“Pore little thing,” said Kitty, “she looks real white.”

Jessie had flown to Adele. “I couldn’t come,” she exclaimed. “Ezra
wouldn’t let me. Do you feel any better?”

“No.” Adele shook her head and her tears broke out afresh. “I want to
go home, I want to go home,” she sobbed.

Ezra came out before Jessie had time for another word. “You stay here,
honey,” he said to Jessie. “I’ll take this young lady to the doctor and
let him fix her up so she’ll feel better and then we’ll come back for
you.”

But Adele wailed out, “Go with me, Jessie. Go with me. I don’t want to
see the doctor all alone.”

“Ezra will be with you,” said Jessie who was feeling rather shaky
herself.

“Yes, sir, Ezra will be right with you,” said that person, “and
moreover this young miss isn’t to go; she isn’t fit, all bruised up
as she is. You won’t be alone, bless you, child. There ain’t a kinder
woman in the country than Mrs. Sadtler, and she’ll mother you fine.
You’ll be all right in no time. No, you don’t!” he stopped Jessie from
climbing into the wagon. Mark had unfastened Dapple Gray and had tied
him to the hitching-post. “We’ll go for the cart after a while,” said
Ezra gathering up the reins. “You wait here, child, and I’ll be back as
quick as I can.” So Jessie was obliged to see Adele drive off while she
was left to Kitty’s tender mercies.




_CHAPTER IX_

_The Gray Kitten_




_CHAPTER IX_

_The Gray Kitten_


It was a very subdued and wan little Adele who was helped into the
house by the doctor, who remained to explain the situation, while
Ezra took Jessie home. Poor Miss Betty was overcome at sight of her
niece with her arm in splints and looking so pale. “Child! child!” she
cried. “What has happened? We have been so anxious about you. At first
we thought you had gone home with Jessie, but Otto said he saw you
driving in an opposite direction.” She turned to the doctor. “What has
happened?” she asked tremulously.

“It seems the young ladies were crossing the track just there by
the cut and the wheel caught in the track, upsetting their cart and
throwing them out. Fortunately there is no worse damage done than a
broken arm and a broken cart.”

“The horse ran away!” exclaimed Miss Betty.

“Not a bit of it. Fine little beast that he is, he stood stock still.
Little Loomis girl was thrown into some bushes. She was stunned by the
fall, but seems all right otherwise except for a few bruises. She was a
little Trojan, Ezra Limpett tells me, and tramped across that dangerous
railroad bridge to get help. You’d better have this child put to bed,
Miss Hallett, and I see you look rather the worse for wear yourself.”

“I’ve had one of my headaches,” replied Miss Betty, passing her hand
over her forehead.

“Humph! Fine time to take for explorations. I gather that’s what the
youngsters were doing. At least my wife says so.” The doctor spoke as
if he had no patience with such doings.

Miss Betty turned a troubled face upon Adele. “Oh, my child, how could
you?” she exclaimed. “Didn’t you know we do not allow you to go out of
sight of the house?”

Adele burst into loud sobs. “There, there,” said Miss Betty,
soothingly; “I am sure you have had punishment enough, and I won’t
scold, but I wish your father had never bought you that pony. I shall
never have an easy day after this.”

“The pony is all right,” declared the doctor. “He had the good sense
not to run when he felt the wheel going. He is a fine little fellow
and it is due to his good behavior that the children came to no worse
mishap. I’ll leave a quieting draught for the child, Miss Hallett, and
something for that head of yours.”

“My head was better,” said Miss Betty weakly.

“This won’t come amiss,” replied the doctor, putting a few tablets into
a small phial. “Get the child to bed and go yourself. I’ll come again
in the morning.”

So while those in the yellow house were looking after Adele, Jessie was
being driven home behind Ezra’s old white horse and was delivered safe,
if not quite sound, into her mother’s arms.

As it was getting late Mrs. Loomis was getting anxious, and was
about to send Max to the Halletts’ after his little sister. Ezra had
not waited for thanks, but as soon as he had set Jessie safely down
before her own door he drove off at as rapid a pace as his old horse
could travel. At Jessie’s sudden appearance looking as if she had
been through the wars her mother cried out: “Why, my child, what is
the matter? How did you get such a scratched face? and look at your
stocking torn to shreds.”

“Well, I vow!” exclaimed Walter, “you do look a sight! Been climbing
trees, I bet.”

“Indeed I’ve not,” returned Jessie. “I can climb trees, but I haven’t
done it to-day. I’ll tell you, mother, but I don’t want to before
Walter.”

“Oh, all right,” said that person indifferently, “I don’t want to know.”

Jessie slipped her hand into her mother’s.

“Come up-stairs,” she said in a whisper, “and I’ll show you my leg.”

“Your leg?” Mrs. Loomis began to look alarmed, and led Jessie
up-stairs. “My dear child,” she said when they had entered Jessie’s
little room, “what has happened?”

“It wasn’t my fault, indeed it wasn’t,” began Jessie trying to be
brave, but now that she was in the safe harbor of her mother’s arms,
feeling that she could not keep back the tears. “I tried to make Adele
stop, and not go out of sight, but she just would and would go further
and further. She was bent and determined to go as far as she could, and
I was afraid to let her go off by herself, and yet I knew it wasn’t
right for us to be driving out of sight. I truly didn’t know what to
do, mother. She wouldn’t let me drive nor get out nor anything and she
wouldn’t go back, so all I could do was to sit still. Then she drove
bias across the railroad truck, and the wheel caught, and we were
tipped out. I fell down into some bushes and got an awful bruise. Just
see.” She displayed a large black and blue surface to her mother.

“Why, you poor child, that certainly is a bruise. I must bathe it after
a while. But now go on with your story.” Mrs. Loomis’s hands trembled
as she held Jessie closer.

“Then,” continued the little girl, “when I came to my senses I didn’t
see Adele at first, but I saw Dapple Gray standing quite still by the
railroad track. A cart-wheel was off and the cart was tipped down the
bank. But wasn’t Dapple Gray good not to move?”

“He was indeed, but oh, my little daughter, I dare not think what might
have happened. Suppose a train had been coming along.”

“One did whistle. It was a freight train, I think, but it must have
passed before we got there. Well, I picked myself up and found Adele
sitting there crying about her arm. She has broken it, mother, but we
didn’t know it then and there wasn’t any house nearer than Ezra’s so
I went there.” She hesitated for a moment before going on. “It was so
much nearer not to go across the foot-bridge, so I went the other way.”

“Oh, Jessie!” Mrs. Loomis turned pale.

“Yes, I did. I knew that perhaps I ought not, but it would save time,
you see. I did get awfully dizzy just in the middle, but I shut my eyes
and said,

  “‘God shall charge His angel legions
  Watch and ward o’er thee to keep,’

and presently I felt all right, so I got over safely and found
Ezra--oh, dear, he hasn’t had his supper. Isn’t that too bad!--and
Kitty washed my face and fixed me up while Ezra and Mark went for Adele
and took her to the doctor. Then they stopped for me and we all took
Adele home and then Ezra brought me.”

“My darling child, what a dreadful time you have had,” exclaimed Mrs.
Loomis.

“I haven’t told any one but you about Adele, mother, truly I haven’t.
I never said to any one that it was her fault. Could I help it
happening? What ought I to have done?”

Mrs. Loomis was silent for a moment. “It was a very hard position for
a little girl, so hard that I do not see how I can consent to your
being thrown with so wilful a child as Adele. I am afraid for the
consequences.”

“Oh, mother!” There were surprise and regret in Jessie’s tones. “Am I
never to play with her again, poor Adele! And am I never to go to the
yellow house? Not for lessons or anything? Oh, mother!”

“I shall have to think it over, dear, and have a talk with your father
before we can decide. It is a very serious matter for us to have our
only dear little girl placed in such danger as you were in to-day. So
far as you were concerned I really do not see how you can be blamed,
and you tried to be brave and noble for Adele’s sake, but we must make
it impossible for such a thing to happen again. Now, come down and have
some supper, and then I think you’d better go to bed, for it has been a
very exciting day for you. There will be no lessons to-morrow and you’d
better not get up very early.” She did not say that she still felt
anxious lest Jessie had suffered more from the accident than at once
appeared.

The next morning Jessie woke up feeling stiff and sore, and was glad
when Max came up with her breakfast. He had added some ripe persimmons
to her bill of fare and was so kind and solicitous that Jessie quite
enjoyed the reputation of invalid. Walter, too, poked his head in the
door and asked how she was feeling, blundering out a half apology by
saying, “Why didn’t you tell a fellow what was the matter when you came
in?” Then he tossed a little pale pink rose on the bed and ran away.
The rose was the last of the season and he had found it braving the
frost which had sweetened the persimmons. Minerva, also, came up with
a plate of tiny hot biscuits which she had baked especially for the
little girl.

Later in the day Max was sent over to inquire how Adele was, and
brought back the report that she was doing very well but had had a
feverish night. By the time Max had returned Jessie had found bed
rather a tiresome place and so had begged to be allowed to get up and
come down.

Her father looked her over, asked many questions and finally decided
that the big bruise was her worst hurt and that she could go out and
in as she pleased. “Run out-of-doors all you want to,” he said, “but
don’t get tired out,” so Jessie availed herself of this permission and
concluded to go hunt up the boys.

She found them in the barn amusing themselves with Eb. He had learned
to say, “Hallo!” and was walking back and forth on a beam, cocking his
eye and looking down at the boys below.

“He’s a funny fellow,” said Max as Jessie came in. “I’d like to take
him back to school. We’re going Monday. Carl is all right, they say.”

  “It certainly would make the children laugh and play
  To see a crow at school,”

said Jessie laughing.

  “Jessie had a little crow
    As black as you can think.
  It followed her to school one day
    And drank up all the ink,”

said Max.

“Ho, I can do better than that,” boasted Walter.

  “Jessie had a little crow
    As black as any sloe
  And everywhere that Jessie went
    The crow was sure to go.”

“What is a sloe?” asked Jessie.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Walter. “Ask Max. He is the walking
dictionary.”

“It is a kind of plum, I believe,” Max told them.

“I never saw a plum as black as Ebon is,” said Jessie, stroking the
shining feathers of the bird who had flown down and was sitting on her
wrist.

“And I suppose you never saw a green rose, but I have,” returned Max.

“Where did you see it?” Jessie asked.

“In a greenhouse, Mr. Atkinson’s.”

“Well, I suppose plums could be black,” said Jessie persuaded that Max
knew what he was talking about.

“Look at Eb pecking at your buttons, Jess,” said Walter. “He has one
almost off.”

Jessie wore a red jacket whose bright buttons pleased Ebon’s fancy. “He
is getting to be a great mischief,” she said. “He tried to carry off
mother’s thimble yesterday. Go ’long, Eb. Go pretend you are a chicken
or something. Max, will you go with me to Effie Hinsdale’s to get my
kitten? It is big enough now, and if I am not to go to Adele’s any more
I shall need the kitten.”

“Let’s go with her,” proposed Walter. “Then we can see Jack and some of
the other boys. We’ll go, Jess.”

Walter was very amiable to-day, Jessie thought. He really loved his
little sister, and the fact that she had been in great danger the day
before made him realize what it would be to lose her.

“We might get both kittens,” said Jessie, “and then we could leave
Adele’s for her on our way home. She will be so glad to have it now
that she has a broken arm and no one to play with.”

“Do you suppose her father will sell Dapple Gray?” said Walter. “I wish
our father could buy him.”

“Adele would feel awfully to have him sold,” said Jessie. “Oh, dear!”
she drew a long sigh.

“What’s the matter?” asked Max anxiously.

“Nothing much. I was only thinking what a pity it is that things can’t
always go right.”

“I don’t see what possessed you two to go off that way,” said Walter
reading her thoughts.

“I don’t either,” returned Jessie turning away. “I’m going up to the
house now to get a basket for the kittens.”

“I don’t believe she had a thing to do with it,” said Max to his
brother when Jessie was out of hearing. “I’ll bet it was the Hallett
girl that wanted to have her way, and Jess won’t tell on her.”

“That’s pretty decent of Jess then,” said Walter, “and it was pretty
fine of that pony not to bolt when the wheel came off. I’ll tell you a
pony like that is worth having. Ezra said he stood as still as a post
till they led him away.”

“I reckon Mr. Hallett won’t want to give him up,” returned Max.

“But he’ll not let those two kids go driving off by themselves again,”
remarked Walter with the superiority of his years, which were but two
more than Jessie’s.

Jessie with her two brothers made the visit to the Hinsdales, and
Jessie bore away the gray kitten in triumph, but her pleasure was
marred by finding that the black kitten had been given to a cousin of
the cook’s, so there was none for Adele.

“I am so sorry,” said Effie, “but Adele shall have first choice of the
next batch.”

“She’ll be dreadfully disappointed,” said Jessie sadly.

“I am so sorry,” repeated Effie, “and if there were one left she should
have it, but we never take the last one from Tippy, you see; that
wouldn’t be right, and yours is the last one left to give.”

Jessie hugged her own furry darling to her, and, the boys having called
out that they couldn’t wait any longer, she was obliged to join them,
but all the way home she was struggling with a problem. Ought she to
give up the gray kitten to Adele? Poor Adele had no brothers and no
mother, and, if Jessie must give her up, she would have no playmate.
Although Adele had been the means of getting them both into serious
trouble, Jessie felt the sorrier for her on account of her very
naughtiness, and somehow could only think of her friend as she was
in her most charming moods. When she chose, Adele could be the most
fascinating of companions, and Jessie believed that her love was very
genuine, so the more she thought of it the more she felt that she ought
to give up the kitten.

However, she decided not to make up her mind right away, and in the
meantime she need not let Adele know that the gray kitten had been
taken away from Effie’s. But while she was weighing the matter in her
own mind came a note from Adele that settled the question. It arrived
the next morning, and was the outcome of a visit from Effie who had
literally let the cat out of the bag when she went to see how Adele
was. The note ran thus:

  “You don’t love me, for you haven’t been to see me and I suppose you
  think I am too bad to play with. You can go to your old Polly and
  stay with her all the time. I shall not trubble you, but I want my
  Peter Pan and I know Polly has stoled him to spite me. Efy says you
  have your kiten. What made you take it when there wassent any for me?
  Oh, I am verry miserble with nobuddy to play with. If Polly dossent
  send back my Peter Pan I am going to burn her up. Her scraggy hair
  would make a luvly blaze.

                                           “Your forsakened frend,
                                                                “ADELE.”

At the end was a tear-stained postscript which read: “I did love you. I
did, I did.”

Evidently Adele was in one of her worst moods and was feeling very
remorseful and unhappy. This Jessie knew, but at the same time she was
indignant that Adele should still harp upon Polly’s wickedness. Of
course it was very absurd for her to say such things, for how could
Polly steal anything? Yet the note quite decided Jessie not to give up
the gray kitten, and her pity for Adele suffered a change.




_CHAPTER X_

_Across Water_




_CHAPTER X_

_Across Water_


It was some time before the two little girls met, for Mrs. Loomis could
not make up her mind to allow Jessie to go over to the yellow house,
while Miss Betty and Miss Eloise appreciated the fact that there was
reason for hard feelings against Adele, and moreover thought that
nothing would make the little sinner realize her misdoing more than
such a punishment as a separation from Jessie. Mrs. Loomis had not
failed to get daily reports of Adele’s progress and sent her over many
dainties while she was in bed, so that Adele’s remorse was all the
greater.

Jessie answered the note by saying she was very sorry about the kitten,
but she did not refer to Peter Pan nor to Playmate Polly. For a whole
week she was obliged to spend her time with her old companions, for the
boys returned to school as expected, so Eb and the gray kitten were a
great source of solace. Eb took a great fancy to Cloudy, and it was
very funny to see him, with outspread wings, hopping after the prancing
kitten who was in no way afraid of him, and who would give him little
impertinent dabs when he came too near. He infinitely preferred Cloudy
to the chickens.

Finally when a week had gone by, and Jessie, who had avoided the brook
for some days, was again playing with Peter Pan and Playmate Polly,
she looked across the little stream to see a wistful pair of dark eyes
gazing at her. “Oh, Adele!” she cried, “are you able to come out again?”

A flashing smile changed the expression of Adele’s face. “I was so
afraid you wouldn’t speak to me,” she exclaimed. “I can’t come over,
for I am trying awfully hard to be good. Can’t you come to this side?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Jessie slowly, “but perhaps if each stays on
her own side we can have some sort of play and won’t be disobedient
either.”

“I think that will be lovely,” cried Adele. “What can we play? I can
use only my right arm, you know.”

“Will it be a long time before you can use the other?” asked Jessie
interestedly.

“Not so very, very long. The doctor says it is doing very well indeed,
but oh, Jessie, it has been awful without you.”

“Are you having lessons?”

“No, not yet. Aunt Betty hasn’t said anything about that, and--and,”
the tears came to her eyes, “if you are not there I shall hate lessons
worse than ever. I was getting so I didn’t mind them.”

“It is too bad,” returned Jessie.

“I suppose your mother thinks I am too wicked for you to play with,”
remarked Adele after an awkward pause.

“Well,--not exactly,” Jessie wondered how she could explain, “but you
see she is afraid we’ll get into some mischief.”

“I know, I know,” returned Adele. “I suppose I am very wicked, but I
shall never want to be good if we can’t be friends.”

Jessie pondered for a moment over this speech. It made her feel a great
responsibility. She wondered if her mother knew that Adele was in
danger of becoming very, very wicked, if it would make any difference
in her decision about their friendship. Certainly it was a subject that
needed to be discussed, and it should be done that very night when
Jessie and her mother had their last little talk before Mrs. Loomis
kissed her daughter good-night. For the present it would be best not to
talk about it, and so she said, “I’ll tell you what we can do; we can
send boats back and forth to each other. You can stay on one end of the
log and I will stay on the other.”

“If I come to the middle, will you come and kiss me?” asked Adele.

Jessie thought there could be no harm in doing that upon strictly
neutral ground. “But we mustn’t stay there,” she concluded.

“Oh, no, we won’t stay there,” agreed Jessie. So they proceeded to the
middle of the log that spanned the brook, fervently kissed one another,
and then retreated each to her own side.

“I’ll get some chips,” said Jessie, “and throw some over to you. We
ought to have some string, too. Oh, I know where there is some; in the
grotto I had a little ball of it the other day, and I put it there to
keep it safe.”

“Is the grotto just the same?” asked Adele wistfully. “I should so
love to see it. I wish I could come over just for a minute. Do you
think I might?”

Jessie shook her head decidedly. “No, I don’t think you ought. Of
course I’d love to have you, but it would be disobeying; even doing it
once would be disobeying.”

“It is very hard to be perfectly good,” returned Adele woefully.

“Yes, it is,” sighed Jessie, “but when we are sure a thing is wrong we
ought not to do it. Sometimes you aren’t quite sure, and sometimes you
forget. Forgetting is my worst sin,” she added solemnly.

“I don’t know what mine is, my very worst, I mean. When I begin to
think about them I am afraid to go to bed at night.”

“Oh! Mother always----” began Jessie and then she remembered that there
was no mother to whom Adele could unburden her conscience and from whom
she could receive loving advice and comfort. She therefore changed the
subject quickly. “I am going to get the string and the chips,” she
said, “and I will send you over a load of persimmons. Do you like them?
I brought some with me this morning. They are so good now that we have
had frost. I don’t suppose I can send more than one or two at a time.”

Adele was delighted at the prospect of receiving such a valuable cargo
which by dint of a long switch Jessie managed to pilot safely over to
a spot where Adele could reach it. The second expedition was not so
successful, however, but was lost in the raging torrent before it was
half-way across. When a vessel is only six inches long it is very hard
to navigate among the whirlpools of an uncertain stream. Nevertheless
at least half a dozen persimmons reached the other shore and were duly
consumed by the person to whom they were consigned.

“There will be chestnuts pretty soon,” said Jessie. “I shouldn’t wonder
if there were some now. We might go and get some. Oh, I forgot they are
on this side. Never mind, I will get Sam to gather some and to-morrow
I can send you over a lot. I can put them in a basket and tie the
basket on a long pole and in that way I can reach them over to you.
Oh, I wonder if the boys took all those they gathered. I am going to
the barn to see, and if they didn’t I’ll bring all I can. Just wait a
minute.”

She ran off to the barn and pretty soon came back. She stopped on the
way to put something in the grotto, and then went on to the brook with
a small covered basket. “I’d better tie it on this pole,” she said,
“for it might fall off. It is full of chestnuts. When you have emptied
them send the basket back to me, and I will put something else in it.”

“What will you put in it?” asked Adele watching Jessie tie the basket
securely to the pole.

“That is a secret,” said Jessie laughing.

By going upon the log she was able to reach far enough so that Adele
could get the basket which was unfastened and sent back after it had
been emptied of its contents. “I think you were lovely to send me all
these,” said Adele delightedly.

“Oh, we shall have plenty more,” Jessie told her. “Sam says there are
lots down in the big field. You shall have some of those, too. Now be
very careful when you untie the basket this time. It isn’t for you to
keep always, but only for a little while.”

While Adele was puzzling over this, Jessie went off to the grotto from
which she abstracted something. She kept her back to Adele, and was
some time in getting the basket settled to suit her. “I am just crazy
to see what it is,” said Adele excitedly.

Jessie laughed and this time went further out upon the log carrying
the pole very carefully and reaching it out to where Adele stood at
the other end of the log. “Go a little further away when you open the
basket,” she suggested, and Adele, wondering, obeyed.

She opened the lid of the basket and peeped in. “Oh!” she cried, “how
lovely!”

“He has only come for a visit,” said Jessie hurriedly. “His name is
Cloudy, you know. I thought you might like to see him.”

“Isn’t he a darling?” said Adele snuggling the kitten up against her
face.

Jessie watched her with a serious countenance. Presently she said
rather breathlessly, “Would you like to call him half yours? I don’t
believe I could give him to you altogether, but we might go shares, you
know.”

Adele sat down with the kitten in her lap. “Jessie Loomis, I think
you are the dearest girl that ever lived,” she said earnestly, “and I
should love to come over there and hug you, but I won’t, because I must
be good. No, I won’t let you give me even half the kitten, but I do
love to have him come over for a visit. See, he is sleepy. Shall I put
him back in the basket and let him have a nap?”

“He has just had a big saucer of milk,” said Jessie, “but he is very
playful most of the time. You might let him have a little nap, and I
will find something else to send over to you.”

“No, let me send something this time; you have done it all,” said
Adele. “I’ll go up to the house in a minute and get something. Would
you mind if I took Cloudy to show to Aunt Betty and Miss Eloise? I
won’t let anything happen to him and I’ll bring him right back.”

“Of course you may take him,” Jessie consented generously. And carrying
the basket steadily, Adele sped away.

She was not gone very long and when she came back she brought a
small paper bag of cakes and another of candies which were promptly
despatched across the watery way to Jessie; but as Cloudy was asleep
in the basket the little bags themselves were tied on the pole and were
transported in that way.

“Aunt Betty said Cloudy was lovely,” said Adele, “and he behaved
beautifully. I told her how generous you offered to be, and she sent
her love to you.”

“What did Miss Eloise say?”

“She wasn’t there. Aunt Betty said she had gone somewhere, but she
didn’t say where. I asked Aunt Betty if she thought papa would bring me
a kitten from the city, and she said he was going to bring me a big dog
in place of Dapple Gray. I’d love a big dog.”

“But where is Dapple Gray?” asked Jessie.

“He’s been sent away,” said Adele in a low voice. “Papa said as long as
I couldn’t be trusted that I couldn’t have him to drive till I was old
enough to have common sense, and so he has sent him to my cousin till
my sense grows enough for me to have him again. Do you suppose common
sense does grow?”

“I think it must,” returned Jessie thoughtfully, “for all grown people
have it.”

“I don’t believe they do,” said Adele, “for I have heard papa say
ever so many times that So-and-So had not a grain of common sense, and
So-and-So would be a big man, too.”

“Well, maybe they get it and then lose it,” replied Jessie, “like some
persons do their hair. Some persons have a great deal, and others are
quite bald, you know, like Dr. Sadtler.”

This seemed a reasonable conclusion and Adele accepted it. “Well,” she
said, “I hope if I ever do get my common sense that it will be nice and
thick and long like Miss Eloise’s hair.”

“Is your cousin a little girl?” asked Jessie returning to her thoughts
of Dapple Gray.

“No, he is a little boy, and he has been very ill, so papa said it
would be a great comfort to him to have a little pony like that.”

“Is he a big boy?” asked Jessie.

“About as big as your brother Max.”

“He will hate to give Dapple Gray up?” said Jessie.

“Maybe he will be strong and well again by the time my common sense
gets here,” said Adele. “I hope that won’t be so very long.”

“I hope so, too,” replied Jessie, thinking more of Dapple Gray than of
Adele’s development.

“Cloudy is waking up,” said Adele. “I’d better send him back to you.”

“Tie the basket on very strongly,” said Jessie, “so it can’t fall in
the water.”

But though Adele tied the basket securely enough, she was not quite so
certain of her own footing, her useless arm causing her to lose her
balance, and in regaining it she allowed the pole to drop so far that
the basket was dipped into the water, though fortunately not so far
that Cloudy received more wetting than gave him two dripping paws.

“Oh, dear, I am so relieved,” said Adele. “I thought he was drowned.
Why am I always doing such dreadful things?”

“You couldn’t help it,” Jessie assured her. “You have only one arm, you
see, and it was very hard to manage that long pole.” She dried Cloudy’s
paws on her handkerchief and then cuddled him under her jacket. “I
think I shall have to carry him up to the house,” she said, “for he
might take cold. Besides, I am sure it must be nearly dinner time.”

“We have had a perfectly lovely time,” returned Adele. “I was so
miserable last night when I went to bed, and I cried myself to sleep.”

“What made you so miserable?”

“Why, you see Dapple Gray went away yesterday afternoon, and I felt
so lonely when I thought I couldn’t have you or him either. I am so
glad you came down to the brook this morning. Will you come again this
afternoon?”

“If mother says I may.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you have been playing with me all the morning.”

“Of course I shall tell her. I tell her everything, and you know we
have minded exactly, for neither one of us has crossed the brook.
Mother never said I couldn’t talk to you; she only said I was not to go
over to your place.”

“And Aunt Betty said I mustn’t go to your place, so we really have
minded them, haven’t we?”

“I should think we had,” replied Jessie. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” responded Adele. And both little girls went off feeling
very virtuous.

Jessie did not delay in telling her mother all about the morning’s
meeting. “Do you mind, mother?” she asked.

“No,” answered her mother. “I don’t think I do in the least. I see that
you both meant to be obedient, and I think the hard lesson Adele has
had promises to do her a great deal of good.”

“I feel so sorry for her, oh, so sorry,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “She
cried herself to sleep last night because she was so lonely. If she had
had you, mother, to tuck her up and kiss her good-night and to make her
feel comfortable inside, as you do me after I have been naughty, she
wouldn’t have felt so.”

“Poor little child,” said Mrs. Loomis compassionately.

“I think she loves me very much,” said Jessie, “and she did just as I
told her was right this morning. She never said one word about Polly
or Peter Pan, either. Don’t you think I can be friends with her again,
mother?”

“I think you can, for I am sure that you can do a great deal for her.
It is evident that she has never been used to giving her confidences
to her aunt, and so far, Miss Eloise has not been able to win them. I
think Miss Eloise will in time, and meanwhile we must do all we can.
Miss Eloise was here this morning, dearie.”

“Was she? Then that is why she was not at home when Adele took Cloudy
up to show her. What did she say, mother?”

“She said a great many things, and some things she said made me decide
to let you begin your lessons again, but I would rather you did not
spend too much time at the yellow house. If you go there in the
morning, that will be enough, and in the afternoon it will be better
for Adele to come here to play with you. I think it is getting too cold
to play by the brook, but there is the attic where you can be perfectly
safe. I will have one end cleared for you, and you can have all your
playthings up there.” Jessie threw her arms around her mother’s neck.
“You are just the dearest mother in the world,” she cried. “I wish
Adele had one exactly like you. May I just go down to the brook a few
minutes this afternoon and tell her, and may I bring her back with me?”

Mrs. Loomis smiled down at the eager face as she gave her consent.

“Just one thing more,” said Jessie. “Do you mind if I stay long enough
to shut up Peter Pan’s house for the winter? It won’t take long.”

“No, Miss Wendy, I don’t mind, if you will promise to mind the tree
tops.”

Jessie laughed, and felt very thankful that she had such a mother.




_CHAPTER XI_

_Who Took the Spoons?_




_CHAPTER XI_

_Who Took the Spoons?_


Lessons began again the next day, and this time continued without
interruption until the holidays. It would not be quite true to say that
there were never any more tantrums, but it is a fact that they were
less violent, and occurred less frequently. Adele really was trying to
improve, and if Jessie herself once in a while had what Adele called
“the pouts” and always mocked and made fun of her, Jessie was ashamed
to continue them for very long, for she hated to be made fun of. The
two had their little quarrels, to be sure, and sometimes did not speak
for as much as a whole day, but night usually brought regret and the
next morning each would be eager to make up.

One day Jessie coming home from school found her mother counting the
silver. “Jessie,” she said, “do you remember taking any of these small
teaspoons at any time?”

“Why no, mother,” returned Jessie. “I always have a kitchen spoon, you
know, and I haven’t had one of those for a long time, not since that
day I had the marmalade down by the brook.”

“I don’t see where they can have gone,” said Mrs. Loomis. “There are
two missing, and I am sure they were all here last week. Minerva is
very careful and I don’t think she could possibly have thrown them
out. You are quite sure that you and Adele have not had them up in the
attic?”

“I am quite sure,” returned Jessie, “but I will go and look.”

“I wish you would,” said her mother.

Jessie trudged up to the attic and searched among the playthings, but
there were no spoons to be seen. She went back to her mother. “They
are not there,” she said. “Adele and I haven’t had anything but dolls’
parties up there, and then we used the spoons that belong to the play
tea-set.”

“I cannot think where they can be,” repeated Mrs. Loomis.

“Perhaps the boys had them down at the barn or somewhere,” suggested
Jessie.

“But I have counted them since they went back to school, and they were
all here. I have looked everywhere I can think of, and so has Minerva.
They are never taken to the kitchen except to be washed, and the only
person who has been along is that old peddler who comes with tins
sometimes. I have always thought him an honest old soul, as peddlers
go, but I can think of no one else.”

“I don’t believe it was the peddler,” said Jessie. “He has been coming
here for a long time, and he is always very nice and kind. He gave me
a ring with a blue set in it one day because he said he liked little
girls, and that he once had a little daughter about my age who died. I
am sure it couldn’t be the peddler.”

“It doesn’t seem to me so either,” returned Mrs. Loomis, “but where are
the spoons?”

Jessie shook her head, and the loss remained a mystery, for no amount
of searching brought them to light. It even became more and more
mystifying, for in a few days a little coffee-spoon was missing. It
was a souvenir spoon which had been sent to Mrs. Loomis by her sister,
and had been left on Mrs. Loomis’s dressing bureau after the box
containing it was opened.

“This is more and more perplexing,” said Mrs. Loomis, “for I know
positively that I left it in my room, and who in the world could go up
there without my knowledge?”

This was the last spoon taken, and although the matter was not
forgotten it was after a while dropped, all concluding that in some
unexplained way the spoons had fallen behind the surbase or through
a crack in the floor. This might explain the disappearance of the
teaspoons, for there was a large crack in the kitchen floor near the
fireplace, but it could not account for the coffee-spoon. “I’ll have
that board in the kitchen taken up in the spring,” said Mr. Loomis. “We
don’t want to take the stove down now, and no doubt you will find the
other in your room somewhere when the spring cleaning is done.” So the
matter rested.

When Jessie told Adele about the loss she declared that Playmate Polly
had taken them. It was her way to charge Playmate Polly with all sorts
of evil traits, and the two little girls quarreled upon this subject
oftener than any other, absurd as it was. If Adele wanted to tease
Jessie she had but to say something disagreeable about Playmate Polly,
and Jessie’s anger would rise, so that it finally became as a red rag
to a bull, and the more Adele teased the more Jessie resented it.

They seldom played by the brook now, but the attic was a great source
of pleasure. It was well heated by a register, so there was no danger
that the children should take cold. A set of shelves on one side made a
fine playhouse, and Sam had made a low table of just the proper height.
It was a rough sort of affair, but served its purpose. The legs of two
old chairs were sawed down to suit the children and a bit of old carpet
was spread upon the floor, so they considered that the playroom was
finely furnished. Minerva put up a little white curtain at the window,
and would always remember them on baking days with a little pie, a pan
of tiny rolls, or some small cakes, so that Saturday was feast day as
well as holiday.

One Saturday the two children were sitting at the table coloring some
pictures in a couple of old magazines. Mr. Hallett had brought them
each a small paint box the night before and they took this first
opportunity of trying their powers. Cloudy, attired in the long white
frock belonging to Jessie’s baby doll, was asleep in an improvised crib
made of a small stool turned upside down. He seemed perfectly satisfied
and was having a good nap. Charity sat by his side in the character of
nurse, and Peter Pan was sitting in a swing which hung from the rafters.

“I think I shall put a red frock on my lady,” Adele said.

“I tried red,” said Jessie, “but it doesn’t go very well. It is kind of
thick and messy looking. I believe I will try this yellow.” They worked
away for a few moments, very much absorbed in their painting, but they
were interrupted by a faint mew from the crib. “The baby is waking up,”
said Jessie, “and he can’t walk about very well in that long frock. I
shall have to take it off, I suppose, so he can run about.”

“But he does look so cunning in it,” said Adele admiringly.

“I know he does, and I can put it on again after a while, but mother
says I have no right to make him uncomfortable, and to keep him from
playing when he wants to, so it will have to come off, and when he
gets sleepy I can put it on again. Oh, what’s that?”

Adele ran to the window and drew aside the curtain. “Why, it’s Eb,” she
exclaimed. “He is pecking at the window. He wants to come in. Shall I
open the window, Jessie?”

“Why, yes. It won’t do any harm to let him stay with us. I wonder how
he found his way. You might leave the window open, Adele. It is real
warm to-day and then he can go out when he wants to.”

“I see how he came,” said Adele looking out the window.

“He couldn’t fly as high as this with his wings clipped.”

“No, but he could fly as high as the smokehouse door. It is open, you
see, and then he could fly on the roof, and from there to the branch
of that big tree. He could walk along the branch, you see, and get up
here.”

“So he could, quite easily, and I suppose that is the way he came. It
is the first time he has found us. See how pleased he is,” for Eb was
walking about in the most insinuating manner, dipping and curtseying
and making enticing little sounds. “Don’t let him drink the paint
water, Adele; it might make him ill. No, Eb, you can’t have that,” for
Eb, attracted by the bright colors in the box, was trying to peck at
them. Jessie shut her box, and Adele did likewise. Then Eb spied the
kitten and sidled up to him. The girls watched the two in their funny
antics until they heard Minerva calling at the foot of the stairs.

Jessie ran down to her, and presently came back with a little apple pie
which she set on the table. “Doesn’t it look good?” she said. “Shall we
eat it now?”

“We might as well,” returned Adele.

“I brought up some milk for the kitten,” said Jessie, “so he can sit on
one side the table and Eb on the other. I have a stale crust up here
that I will soak in the milk and give to Eb. He will like that.” So
the funny company sat down together, the kitten perched on a high box
with a small saucer of milk before him, Eb with his soaked crust on a
piece of pasteboard, and the two girls, each with half a pie. Eb was
the first to finish his meal and then he flew down to see what other
entertainment the place afforded. He went prying around for a few
minutes before he spied Adele’s paint brush which she had neglected to
put away. The piece of bright metal at one end attracted him and in a
moment he was upon the window sill with the brush in his beak. Jessie
spied him just as he was about to take flight.

“Oh, see what Eb has!” she cried. “Shut the window quick!”

Adele, who was nearest, jumped up, but Eb was too quick for her and was
beyond reach before she could get to him. “He’s gone,” she cried. “He
has gone off with my brush. How shall we get it?”

“You stay here and watch him,” said Jessie, “and I will go down and see
if I can grab him before he gets away with it.”

She ran downstairs while Adele watched from the window. Still carrying
the brush, Eb walked across the roof to the limb of the tree which
overhung one side of the house. He took a short flight to the limb,
walked along it, flew to the smokehouse and stood there. The door,
however, was shut by now, and he was not sure that he could venture to
fly down from the roof. Now was Jessie’s time. She ran to the kitchen.

“Give me some dough or corn bread, or something, quick, Minerva,” she
said.

Minerva picked up a piece of corn bread from a plate and gave it to
her. “What in the world is the matter with the child?” she said as
Jessie scurried out. She followed the little girl to where she stood
crumbling the corn bread into one palm. “Well, I declare,” she said.
“What has he got now?”

“Adele’s paint brush,” Jessie told her. “Come, Eb. Come get some nice
supper.”

Eb cocked his head to one side, and regarded the outstretched hand for
a moment, then he dropped the paint brush and flew down to Jessie’s
shoulder. The paint brush rolled down from the roof to the ground.
Scattering the crumbs before him, Jessie set Eb down, and ran back,
stopping under the window from which Adele was looking and calling up
to her, “Here it is. I made him drop it.”

“I’ll come down and get it,” replied Adele.

“Bring Cloudy with you,” Jessie called back.

In a few minutes Adele appeared with Cloudy in her arms. “I shut the
window,” she said. “It is getting dark up there, and I suppose I shall
have Angelina coming for me in a few minutes. I am glad you were able
to make Eb give up the brush. What do you suppose he was going to do
with it? Isn’t he getting to be a thief?”

“He certainly is,” said Jessie. “I suppose he was going to hide it
somewhere.”

“I wonder where?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Where do you suppose he would hide things,
Minerva?”

“Bless me, I’m sure I can’t tell. Well, there, I shouldn’t be the least
surprised if he was the one that stole those spoons. It is a wonder
none of us thought of that. It’s only lately he’s taken to carrying off
things, though. He tried to get my thimble off my finger yesterday.”

“I’m going right in to tell mother about him,” said Jessie, “and maybe
we can find the spoons if he has hidden them.”

Minerva followed the two children into the sitting-room, where Mrs.
Loomis was told of the suspicion which rested upon Eb. “Well, I
declare,” she said. “I verily believe he is the thief. We must watch
him, and see where he goes. Keep your eyes open, children, and perhaps
we can trace him.”

However, Eb was much too sly to be discovered at once, and despite all
their efforts they could not find out where he made a hiding-place
for his treasures. He was even given the chance to carry away certain
articles, but as soon as he saw that he was followed he would drop
what he carried and would fly off with a caw of derision. “He is the
cleverest creature I ever saw,” declared Minerva. “There is no catching
him napping. I let him carry off a piece of my red worsted this
morning, and would you believe it, he dropped it on the step as soon as
I opened the door.”

“We’ll catch him unawares some time,” said Sam.

But as if he knew himself suspected, Eb continued to behave with such
secrecy that no one could say that he was really the thief, and finally
Jessie declared that she didn’t believe he was guilty at all, and she
told Adele so.

“No, I don’t believe it is he,” Adele answered with a gleam of mischief
in her eye. “I have always believed it is Polly. I saw Eb sitting on
her head whispering things in her ear one day, when I was coming to
your house, so maybe he puts her up to it.”

“You are so silly, Adele,” returned Jessie impatiently, and turning
away.

Adele ran after. “Don’t get mad, Jessie. Please don’t. I was only
fooling, but it is such fun to pretend things about Polly. If you won’t
get mad, I will tell you a secret; a very great secret. Say you aren’t
mad.”

“I’m not so very mad,” Jessie answered, the prospect of a secret being
more than she could withstand.

The children were in the attic snuggled near the heater, for it had
suddenly grown quite cold. “Guess who the secret is about,” said Adele.

“About us?”

“You and me, do you mean? Well, partly.”

“Is Dapple Gray coming home?”

Adele looked grave. “No, not yet, though papa said the other day that
he was very sure I could have him some time, if I kept on improving.
I’ll tell you who the secret is about and then you can guess some more.
It is about Miss Eloise.”

“Is she going away?” asked Jessie in alarm, for she had become very
fond of her teacher.

Adele shook her head. “No, at least she is and she isn’t.”

“I don’t see how that could be.”

“Don’t you? I do. She might be going away from our house but not from
the neighborhood.”

“Why should she do that? Oh, do tell me, Adele. I can’t possibly guess.”

“Well,” agreed Adele, “it is this way. Miss Eloise is engaged to be
married to a professor or teacher or something. He has been here to see
her, and, what do you think? If they can find a house big enough near
here they are going to take it and have a school next year, and I shall
go to it. Papa is so pleased, because he says he will never have to
send me away to school then.”

“Shall you like going to a man?” asked Jessie somewhat disturbed.

“Oh, the teachers won’t all be men,” said Adele, “and I like Mr. Davis
very much. So will you, for of course you will go, won’t you?”

“I don’t know. Where will the school be?”

“They can’t tell till they see what house they can get.”

Jessie was thoughtful for a moment, then presently she cried, “I know.
I know just the place. It isn’t very far from here. We can see it from
the window, now that the trees are bare. It is a great big white house
with ever so many rooms in it. Father knows all about it. It is this
side the railroad track, so I could go there.”

“Oh, come, let’s go tell Miss Eloise,” said Adele with an eagerness
which seemed to suggest that perhaps the house would disappear over
night. And the two sought Miss Eloise without delay.

“I’ve told Jessie your secret,” said Adele bursting in upon her
teacher, “and she knows exactly the house for you and Mr. Davis. Her
father can tell you all about it.”

Miss Eloise looked up from her embroidery, a little flush mounting to
her cheek. “What do you think of my secret, Jessie?” she asked drawing
the little girl to her side.

“I think it is a very nice one for Mr. Davis,” she answered.

Miss Eloise laughed, and Miss Betty said, “I must tell him that.”

“Why don’t you think it is nice for me?” Miss Eloise asked Jessie.

“Maybe I shall think it is nice if you live in ‘The Beeches,’” she said.

“Then we surely must see about it. Is the name of the place ‘The
Beeches,’ and is it near here?”

“It is just beyond our place,” Jessie told her, “but the house hasn’t
been lived in for a long time. The man who owns it has gone abroad and
wants to sell it. My father can tell you all about it, for we have the
keys at our house.”

“Then we must certainly see about it,” said Miss Eloise, turning to
Miss Betty. “That would just suit, Betty, and I should rather be on
this side the railroad, for then we should be between Appledore and
Fulton so we could control both. Thank you, Jessie, for coming to tell
me. Of course we shall not open our school till next fall, but if the
house is out of repair it will take some time to put it in order, and
one should be in plenty of time for such things. Must you go now?”

“Yes, it is getting late,” said Jessie, “and I mustn’t be out after
dark.”

“I hope you are bundled up warm,” said Miss Betty, “for it is getting
so cold.”

“I’ll run all the way,” said Jessie, “and that will keep me warm.” She
made her adieux and started off, her thoughts full of Miss Eloise and
her secret.




_CHAPTER XII_

_What Was Found Out_




_CHAPTER XII_

_What Was Found Out_


That winter had really come was made apparent the next morning when a
light fall of snow covered the ground. Jessie looked out of her window
and saw that Playmate Polly wore a white hood and that a scarf of snow
hung down on one side of her. “I think it looks rather well,” said
Jessie to herself. “I wonder if mother will let me go where I can see
closer. I have never been to Polly’s in winter time. I wish it were
Saturday.”

She was so excited over the new snow that she could scarcely wait till
breakfast was over to go down the hill toward the brook. Mrs. Loomis
consented to her making a short call upon Playmate Polly. “For I do so
want to see her white hood,” said Jessie, “and I will wear my rubbers
so I shall not get my feet wet. If Adele comes tell her I will be back
in five minutes, or may I stay ten minutes, mother?”

“Not longer,” her mother told her.

She set off over the untrodden snow that lay between the house and the
fence, but beyond this she discovered that some one had been before
her, for there were footprints in the snow, queer little footprints
that went on for a short distance and then stopped beginning again
further on.

“Eb has been down to see Polly,” said Jessie to herself. She ran on
leaving her own footprints by the side of Eb’s and when she was within
a little distance of the row of willows, she saw that Eb was sitting
on Polly’s head, and was, as Adele said, whispering in her ear. Jessie
stood still for a moment to watch him, and while she was looking
suddenly he disappeared. Jessie was astonished. “Where in the world has
he gone?” she exclaimed. “I saw him and then I didn’t see him. I must
go right there and ask Polly about it.” She went on toward the tree and
presently discovered that which had the appearance of a hood when she
saw it from her window had now changed into a wreath upon Polly’s head.
“I think that is very funny,” said Jessie.

She went close to the tree and looked up, and while she was looking,
out popped Eb’s black head from the centre of the wreath of snow. At
sight of Jessie he began to scold and repeat his “Hallo” a great many
times. “I do believe there is a hole there,” said Jessie. “I never knew
that before, but then I am not tall enough to see over the top of your
head, Polly. That is why you have a wreath instead of a hood. I wish I
could see in.” She looked at Eb who was strutting uneasily about, and
an idea came to her. “I do believe, Ebony Loomis,” she exclaimed, “that
is where you hide things!”

Full of this discovery, she ran up to the barn where she saw Sam. “I
wish you would bring a ladder, Sam,” she said. “I want to see if there
is a hole in that little tree. I believe it is where Eb hides his
treasures.”

“You don’t say so,” said Sam. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw his tracks on the way down. First he would walk a little and
then he would fly, for there were spaces between the tracks. When I
got down there I saw him sitting on the tree, and I believe he had
something in his beak, though I couldn’t see exactly. All of a sudden
he wasn’t there, but in a minute I saw his head pop up from the top
of the tree.” Not for the world would she have divulged to Sam that
Playmate Polly was really a person. He would never understand how such
a thing could be.

“I shouldn’t wonder if you was right,” said Sam. “I can’t go down just
this minute, but after a while I will go and look.”

“I wish you could go now,” said Jessie, “for I have got to go to
school.”

“Wish I could,” Sam answered, “but I will go before you get back. I
reckon if there is anything there it will stay. He ain’t likely to move
it.” Jessie was obliged to be satisfied with this, and knowing it was
high time she was off to her lessons, she went up to the house for her
books, stopping to tell her mother of what she suspected Eb. But there
was not much time to discuss it then, for it was getting late and she
must hurry away.

She found Adele in a high state of excitement over the arrival of the
big dog her father had promised her. He was a beautiful collie, and
already had attached himself to his little mistress. It is safe to say
that lessons did not receive the attention they should that morning.
Moreover even Eb’s tricks were lost sight of in the presence of the new
pet. So Adele was not told of what Jessie had seen that morning.

Indeed it was not till after dinner that Jessie remembered that Sam was
going to investigate the top of Playmate Polly’s snow-wreathed head;
and she hunted him up to find out what he had discovered. He was not at
the barn where she first looked for him, but as she turned from there
she heard a chop-chopping from the direction of the brook. What was Sam
doing? She hurried toward the spot, and saw him with axe uplifted. She
uttered one cry of dismay and the next minute Polly toppled over and
lay prostrate on the ground. She ran toward the fallen figure of her
late companion. “Oh, poor Polly,” she whispered under her breath, her
eyes full of tears.

When she reached the place where Playmate Polly had stood Sam was
bending over a hollow stump. He looked up with a laugh. “You was
right,” he said. “Here’s that little black thief’s treasure.” He put
his hand into the stump and drew forth the three spoons, a brass
thimble, some shining bits of glass, several bright buttons, and, last
of all, Adele’s lost Peter Pan. “Well, I never!” exclaimed Sam.

Jessie drew a long sigh. “Oh, Sam,” she said tremulously, “why did you
have to cut it down?”

“It wasn’t no good,” said Sam. “Hollow all through. Your father said
it had best come down, and then we could see what that rascal had hid
there.”

“But I liked her,” said Jessie sadly, feeling that she had been the
cause of Playmate Polly’s downfall.

Sam looked at her curiously. “First time I ever heard a tree called
_her_,” he said.

Jessie looked at the chips scattered around, at Polly’s head from which
her wreath had fallen. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” she sighed.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sam. “Ain’t you glad to get your doll baby
back?”

“It isn’t mine; it’s Adele’s,” said Jessie. “Yes, I am very glad to
get that. Oh, Sam!” she cried in alarm as she saw him with axe again
uplifted, “you’re not going to chop her to pieces!”

Sam lowered the axe. “I thought I might as well,” he said. “Make a
little fire-wood.”

“Please don’t! Please don’t!” she cried.

“Well, you’re a funny one all right,” said Sam shouldering his axe.
“Settle it with your father; ’tain’t no odds to me.”

Jessie stood for a moment looking at the prostrate Polly and then she
turned and walked slowly to the house, carrying with her the three
spoons and the little scarlet-coated Peter Pan. She went into the
sitting-room and laid the things on the table. “Mother,” she said
solemnly, “Playmate Polly is dead.”

Mrs. Loomis looked up from her sewing. “What on earth do you mean,
daughter?” she said.

Jessie picked up the things she had laid on the table. “Sam has felled
her to the earth,” she said, “and he found these.”

Mrs. Loomis tried to hide a smile at Jessie’s tragic manner. “What did
he find?” she asked.

Jessie handed her the spoons and the doll.

“Then the crow did hide them, and it was you who found him out.”

“Yes, I did it,” returned Jessie. “Poor Polly! I did it.”

“My dear little girl,” said Mrs. Loomis, “you mustn’t feel badly about
an old hollow tree. I suppose Sam had to cut it down in order to get at
the things.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” returned Jessie, “but I did like her so much. Will
she have to be chopped up for fire-wood, mother? Sam was going to do
it, but I stopped him, and he said I must settle it with father. Do you
suppose he will care if she isn’t?”

“I don’t imagine he will care at all, for a little old tree like that
would be small loss.”

“Will you ask him not to?”

“Why, yes, if you like; but why not ask him yourself?”

“I don’t like to talk to any one but you about Polly,” said Jessie
after a pause. “Even Adele never could understand.”

Mrs. Loomis kissed the rather woe-be-gone little face. “Then, my
darling,” she said, “I am very sorry you have lost your Polly, and you
may rest assured that she shall stay just as she lies as long as you
wish. I am very glad to get back the spoons, though I am sorry they
could not have been discovered in another place.”

“I am glad to get back Adele’s doll, too. Here she comes now, mother,
and she has her lovely dog with her.”

Adele came in with a rush, her dog, which she had named Rob, frisking
after her. “Go out, Rob,” cried Adele. “Aunt Betty said I could bring
him if I promised he shouldn’t come in the house. His feet are all
wet.” She closed the door after Rob, shutting him out on the porch,
where he lay down to wait for her. “Why, where did you find my Peter
Pan?” asked Adele whose quick eyes spied the doll first thing.

“Sam found it and the spoons in a hollow tree. It was Eb who took it
and the spoons, too. He hid them with some other things.”

“I knew it was Polly,” said Adele with a laugh. “I always said she had
them.”

“Oh, Adele, don’t talk that way,” returned Jessie in a distressed
voice. “Polly is dead.”

Adele looked at her for a minute to see if she really were in earnest.
“What do you mean?” she said.

“Sam had to chop her down to get at the things. They were down so deep
he couldn’t reach them.”

“Oh,” said Adele, “I am sorry, Jessie, I truly am, and I wish I had
never said mean things about her. I shall never, never, never, be so
horrid again.”

Playmate Polly was allowed to lie where she had fallen, and in time the
green grass and flowering weeds grew up all around her and quite hid
her from view. And the next year there was no thievish crow to hide
away his spoils in hollow trees. For with the spring came visitors of
his own kind, among them such a charming young lady crow as caused
Eb to forsake his old friends, and he flew away with the flock to
live a wild life. Once Jessie passing along through the orchard heard
something above her head cry out: “Hallo!” and she believed the black
wings which she saw among the branches must belong to her old pet, and
the next winter a pair of crows came often, when the snow was on the
ground, to feed with the chickens. Minerva never drove them away, for
she believed it was Eb and his mate who had returned to his familiar
haunts, counting upon receiving hospitality.

Thus Jessie lost two of her companions, but as time went on she and
Adele became closer friends, who were happy with Rob, Cloudy and the
dolls. Before it was time to open the grotto again, Adele had renamed
her doll of the scarlet coat. “I shall call him Reddy,” she said to
Jessie, who understood that on account of Playmate Polly and the old
quarrel, Adele wanted to be generous.

So Peter Pan had it all his own way, though he often went to see Reddy
in a fine cave that Jessie helped Adele make for him.

Early in June Miss Eloise left the yellow house to be married, and one
day, a couple of weeks after, there was a great stir and bustle at
“The Beeches.” Mrs. Loomis, Miss Betty, Dr. and Mrs. Sadtler were all
on hand to welcome home the bride and groom. Jessie and Adele were on
the watch for the carriage as it drove from the station. Adele was the
first to spy it coming up the road. “There they are!” she cried.

“There they are,” echoed Jessie. “Let’s run and get the dears.”

The two stood on the porch as Mr. and Mrs. Davis alighted. Adele was
the first to rush forward and thrust something into Mr. Davis’s arms.
“This is for you,” she cried.

“And this is for you.” Jessie turned to Mrs. Davis and deposited in her
arms a small black kitten.

Mr. Davis accepted the roly-poly puppy that Adele had given him and
turning to his wife, he said, “You know all along, Eloise, I have
declared we must have a dog.”

“And I said no home could be complete without a cat,” returned his wife
laughing. “You are two dear children to supply our wants so soon,” she
said to the little girls.

“We think it is going to be lovely here,” said Adele eagerly.

“Max and Walter are coming here to school,” Jessie announced. “Are you
glad to be our neighbors, Miss Eloise?”

“My dear, I am delighted. I didn’t realize what a charming old place
this really was. What have you all been doing to it?” She looked around
upon a well ordered garden, upon a smoothly cut lawn, upon a freshly
painted porch where boxes of flowers stood, and then she caught sight
of the group within doors who were standing to welcome her. “You dear
people,” she said holding out her hands. “How good you are to us, and
how the whole place is changed. What fairy work is this?”

“You must ask these little girls,” said Mrs. Loomis, smiling down at
Jessie and Adele. “They put it into our heads, and said it was a shame
for you to come home to a dingy old house, to a neglected lawn and a
flowerless garden, and so we thought, too. Therefore we have all taken
turns in seeing that things were done as they should be. And now come
in to supper.”

“Supper?” Mrs. Davis looked at her husband. “And we looked forward to
an empty house with a still emptier larder. We said we should have to
picnic for days till we could get the house in running order.” Still
holding the kitten, she put her free arm around both little girls, and
they wondered why her eyes should be full of tears. “We shall never
feel like strangers here, Fred,” she said to Mr. Davis.

“Indeed, I should say not,” he replied. “This is a true home-coming.”

All summer long work went on in the big white house till fall found
it ready with classrooms, with a new gymnasium, with pretty sleeping
rooms for the boarding pupils. And every room was filled, while the day
scholars were not a few.

Jessie and Adele started off together. Max and Walter had already gone
on ahead. Adele was unusually thoughtful on the way. “What are you
thinking of?” Jessie asked her. “You are so quiet.”

“I was thinking about a lot of things,” was the reply. “I was thinking
suppose papa had not found the yellow house for us to live in, then I
should never have known you, Miss Eloise would never have found ‘The
Beeches,’ and I might have been far away somewhere, just as lonely as I
was before.”

“But you did come to the yellow house, you see,” said Jessie, “and now
we are friends and are always going to the same school.”

“And after we grow up we shall still be friends. Say we shall, Jessie.”

“Of course,” returned Jessie.

Max ahead of them called over his shoulder, “You two had better hurry
up. We don’t want to be late the first day.”

The two girls increased their lagging pace. “We’re coming,” Jessie
called.




HURST & COMPANY’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE


_A Volume of Cheerfulness in Rhyme and Picture_

KINDERGARTEN LIMERICKS

By FLORENCE E. SCOTT

_Pictures by Arthur O. Scott with a Foreword by Lucy Wheelock_

[Illustration]

The book contains a rhyme for every letter of the alphabet, each
illustrated by a full page picture in colors. The verses appeal to
the child’s sense of humor without being foolish or sensational, and
will be welcomed by kindergartners for teaching rhythm in a most
entertaining manner.

_Beautifully printed and bound. In attractive box. Price, Postpaid One
Dollar._




NEW BOOKS FOR GIRLS

TUCKER TWINS BOOKS

By NELL SPEED

Author of the Molly Brown Books.

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price 60c. per volume.


At Boarding School with the Tucker Twins

[Illustration]

There are no jollier girls in boarding-school fiction than Dum and Dee
Tucker. The room-mate of such a lively pair has an endless variety of
surprising experiences--as Page Allison will tell you.


Vacation with the Tucker Twins

This volume is alive with experiences of these fascinating girls. Girls
who enjoyed the Molly Brown Books by the same author will be eager for
this volume.

The scene of these charming stories is laid in the State of Virginia
and has the true Southern flavor. Girls will like them.

_We will send any title upon receipt of 60 cents per volume, or both of
them for $1.10._




NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE AND OLD PEOPLE WHO FEEL YOUNG

PAUL AND PEGGY BOOKS

By FLORENCE E. SCOTT

Illustrated by ARTHUR O. SCOTT

_Cloth Bound. Price 60c. per vol., postpaid_

[Illustration]

  _Here and There with Paul and Peggy_
  _Across the Continent with Paul and Peggy_
  _Through the Yellowstone with Paul and Peggy_

These are delightfully written stories of a vivacious pair of twins
whose dearest ambition is to travel. How they find the opportunity,
where they go, what their eager eyes discover is told in such an
enthusiastic way that the reader is carried with the travellers into
many charming places and situations.

Written primarily for girls, her brothers can read these charming
stories of School Life and Travel with equal admiration and interest.

_We will mail promptly any book for 60 cents, or all three for $1.60._




STORIES OF COLLEGE LIFE FOR GIRLS

MOLLY BROWN SERIES

By NELL SPEED

Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume


_Molly Brown’s Freshman Days_

[Illustration]

Would you like to admit to your circle of friends the most charming of
college girls? Then seek an introduction to Molly Brown. You will find
the baggagemaster, the cook, the Professor of English Literature and
the College President in the same company.


_Molly Brown’s Sophomore Days_

What is more delightful than a reunion of college girls after
the summer vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes it in their
experience--at least, if all class-mates are as happy together as the
Wellington girls of this story. Among Molly’s interesting friends of
the second year is a young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her “humbly”
self into everybody’s affections.


_Molly Brown’s Junior Days_

Financial stumbling-blocks are not the only thing that hinder the
ease and increase the strength of college girls. Their troubles and
their triumphs are their own, often peculiar to their environment. How
Wellington students meet the experiences outside the classrooms is
worth the doing, the telling and the reading.


_Molly Brown’s Senior Days_

This book tells of another year of glad college life, bringing the
girls to the days of diplomas and farewells, and introducing new
friends to complicate old friendships.


_Molly Brown’s Post Graduate Days_

“Book I” of this volume is devoted to incidents that happen in Molly’s
Kentucky home, and “Book II” is filled with the interests pertaining to
Wellington College and the reunions of a post graduate year.


_Molly Brown’s Orchard Home_

Molly’s romance culminates in Paris--the Paris of art, of music, of
light-hearted gaiety--after a glad, sad, mad year for Molly and her
friends.

If you do not know Molly Brown of Kentucky, you are missing an
opportunity to become acquainted with the most enchanting girl in
college fiction.


_Any book sent prepaid for 60 cents, or the six for $3.50._




Latest Books by Mrs. L T. Meade

NEW COPYRIGHT EDITIONS PUBLISHED EXCLUSIVELY BY US

Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume.

[Illustration]

These beautiful volumes represent Mrs. Meade’s latest writings. They
are juvenile in character, especially written for young folks. By
arrangement with her English publishers, we have obtained the exclusive
American rights, and these books cannot be procured in any other
edition. Each volume handsomely bound with individual designs; each
containing four original drawings. Those familiar with Mrs. Meade know
her reputation for clean, wholesome stories, and these books should
be in every home library. The titles named below comprise her latest
Juveniles.

  Oceana’s Girlhood
  A Wild Irish Girl
  The Girls of Merton College
  For Dear Dad
  Kitty O’Donovan
  Peggy from Kerry
  The Queen of Joy
  The Chesterton Girl Graduates
  The Girls of King’s Royal
  The Lady of Jerry Boy’s Dreams
  A Plucky Girl
  The Daughter of a Soldier
  A Girl of High Adventure
  Jill, the Irresistible

Mrs. Meade requires no introduction to her many admirers and readers,
and these volumes will be a welcome addition to the book-shelves in any
home.

_We will send any title selected upon receipt of 60 cents, or any six
books for $3.50._




MOTOR MAIDS SERIES

By KATHARINE STOKES

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c per vol., postpaid


THE MOTOR MAIDS’ SCHOOL DAYS

[Illustration]

Billie Campbell was just the type of straightforward, athletic girl to
be successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she did
her class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they have
all together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many an
unexpected turning.


THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE

Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these were
companionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interesting
place full of unique adventures.


THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT

It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertaining
to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore,
that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first
’cross-country run.


THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND THISTLE

South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education
by travel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance
with their own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction
to the British Isles. How they made their polite American how and
how they were received on the other side is a tale of interest and
inspiration.


THE MOTOR MAIDS IN FAIR JAPAN

In a picturesque villa among picturesque surroundings the Motor Maids
spend a happy vacation. The charm of Japan,--her cherry blossoms, her
temples, her quaint customs, her polite people,--is reflected in all
their delightful experiences.


THE MOTOR MAIDS AT SUNRISE CAMP

Most interesting of all interesting events recorded about the Motor
Maids are these relating to their summer in a mountain camp. The new
friends introduced in this book add the final touch of romance.

Charmingly written books which will delight all girls who are fond of
outdoor life--and most girls are. The trips taken by these Motor Maids
would envy any girl, yet you can have all pleasant experiences by
reading the stories.

_We will send any book upon receipt of 50 cents, or all six for $2.50._




GIRL AVIATORS SERIES

By MARGARET BURNHAM

Cloth. Illustrated. 50c. Each


_The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship_

[Illustration]

Roy Prescott was fortunate in having a sister so clever and devoted
to him and his interests that they would share work and play with
mutual pleasure and to mutual advantage. This proved especially true
in relation to the manufacture and manipulation of their aeroplane,
and Peggy won well deserved fame for her skill and good sense as an
aviator. There were many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path,
but they soared above them all to ultimate success.


_The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings_

That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that wins and holds
girls enthusiasts as well as boys is proved by this tale. On golden
wings the girl aviators rose for many an exciting flight, and met
strange and unexpected experiences.


_The Girl Aviators’ Sky Cruise_

To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure. How much
more perilous an adventure a “sky cruise” might be is suggested by the
title and proved by the story itself.


_The Girl Aviators’ Motor Butterfly_

The delicacy of flight suggested by the word “butterfly,” the
mechanical power implied by “motor,” the ability to control assured in
the title “aviator,” all combined with the personality and enthusiasm
of girls themselves, make this story one for any girl or other reader
“to go crazy over.”

Aviation is not confined to the sterner sex as has been shown by the
flights made by Harriet Quimby and other daring young women. Girls who
are fond of adventure will thoroughly enjoy reading these books, which
are wholesome and free from sensationalism.

_Price, postpaid, 50 cents per copy or the four books for $1.75._


HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.





*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYMATE POLLY ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.