Polly and the Princess Part 12

"But I can't wait! The woman thought I was going, and she's rented my room, and she won't let me stay another night! I haven't quite enough money to pay up, and she says she shall keep my trunk and furniture--oh, to think I have come to this!"

The little woman's distress was agonizing to Doodles.

"Now, don't you worry!" he pleaded. "You are coming straight home with me to stay at our house over Sunday, and next week we shall probably hear."

"No, no!--your mother--your mother won't want me!" she sobbed. "I can't go to make her all that trouble!"

"'T won't be a bit of trouble!" he insisted. "She will like to have you come! We all will! We'd better go right away, too. Is your trunk packed?"

"Pretty much; there are a few little things to put in." She found herself yielding to the stronger will of the boy. Going to the closet, she brought out some articles of clothing which she began to fold.

"Is all the furniture yours?" Doodles asked, looking around on the meager array.

She shook her head. "Only the rocking-chair and the couch and that little chair you're in and the oil heater and the pictures--" She ran her troubled eyes over the things enumerated, as if fearing to forget some of her few remaining possessions. "Oh, yes! there's my bookshelf! I mustn't leave that."

"Suppose I make a list of them," suggested Doodles. "I think maybe we'd better have them taken over to our house--Blue can come this afternoon and see about it. Blue's my brother, you know."

"But Mrs. Gugerty won't let me have them!"

"She will if you pay up."

"Yes, but I can't! I gave her the last cent I had!" Her voice quivered.

Doodles took out his purse and counted over his change.

"No, you're not going to pay it!" she cried. "I shan't let you!"

"I'm afraid I haven't enough," smiled the lad ruefully--"only sixty-seven cents."

"I owe a dollar and a quarter," she admitted.

"Blue can pay it when he comes for the things," returned the boy, dismissing with a careless "That's nothing!" the little woman's protest.

Miss Lily looked around for the last time with a cheerful smile.

"Somehow I can't feel as bad to go home with you as I know I ought to," she said, "only I hate to have you and your folks do so much for me--and I such a stranger, too!"

"No, you're a friend," Doodles corrected.

"Yes, I am--forever and ever!" She laughed tremulously. "I don't see why you're so good to me."

"You'll like my mother!" Doodles responded with some irrelevance.

"She's the best mother in the whole world!"

"I know I shall love her if she's any like her boy!" She gave him a caressing pat.

True to the word of Doodles, Miss Lily was welcomed to the little bungalow with such heartfelt hospitality that her sad, starving soul was filled with joy, and when Blue returned with her small stock of goods and put Mrs. Gugerty's receipt into her hand, her eyes overflowed with happy tears. With cheery Mrs. Stickney and merry Doodles and Blue for companions, she had little time to worry over the possible outcome of her application to the June Holiday Home, and Sunday was pa.s.sed in an utterly different way from that she had imagined a week before.

It was not until the next Wednesday that any news came from Mr.

Randolph. Then the letter-carrier brought a long, thin envelope addressed to "Miss Faith Lily," and the recipient turned so white when Doodles handed it to her that he feared she was going to faint.

"Shall I open it?" he asked.

She bowed her head. Words were far away.

He drew out the paper and gave it one hurried glance. Then he swung it over his head with a glad whoop.

"You're going! You're going! You're going!" he shouted.

"Doodles!" remonstrated his mother, for Miss Lily was weeping.

In a moment, however, tears had given way to joy, and Doodles must read to her every word of Mr. Randolph's friendly note as well as the wonderful doc.u.ment that was to admit her to the palatial June Holiday Home.

CHAPTER VII

ROSES--AND THORNS

Polly was in Miss Sterling's room when the box was brought up.

"Flowers!" she squealed as soon as the door had shut upon the matron's stout figure.

"Bos.h.!.+" retorted Miss Sterling. "More likely Cousin Sibyl has sent me some of her children's stockings to darn. She does that occasionally. I suppose she thinks--"

"0-o-h!" breathed Polly, for the speaker had disclosed a ma.s.s of pink--exquisite roses with long stems and big, cool green leaves.

"Now what do you think?" Polly exulted.

Miss Sterling stood regarding the roses, her face all pink and white, the color fluttering here and there like a shy bird.

"It's a mistake!" she said at last. "They can't be for me."

"Of course they're for you!" Polly pointed to the address on the cover. "Isn't there any card?" searching gently among the flowers.

"I guess Mr. Randolph forgot to put in his card!" Polly's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Polly Dudley, don't be silly'" The tone was almost impatient.

"It would be lovely for him to send them anyway!" defended Polly.

"And I almost know he did!" she insisted.

"You don't know any such thing!" Miss Sterling was taking the roses out. She brought them to her face and drew in their fragrance.

Then she held them at arm's length, gazing at them admiringly.

"Aren't they beautiful!" she said softly. "I wish I knew whom to thank."

"It looks like a man's handwriting," observed Polly.