Polly of Pebbly Pit Part 4

"Dear me, Nolla! You don't seem to care a fig about your appearance.

What will become of you when it is time for you to make your debut?"

sighed Mrs. Maynard, despondently.

"I'm not going to do anything so silly--I'm going into business when I grow up!"

"Oh!"

"Nolla!"

Mother and sister could hardly gasp the words as they turned shocked eyes in the direction of Mr. Maynard who had been writing out checks for his family. He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily at the independence of his youngest child.

"Frederick! Now you see what comes of your petting Nolla whenever she says or does anything dreadful!" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard.

"Is business so dreadful, then? Anne Stewart seems all right, and she is earning her living," ventured Eleanor.

"I wash my hands of you, after this, Eleanor! If you do anything so unheard of as you threaten, no one will keep up with you," declared Barbara, sternly.

"They'll have to travel mighty fast to keep up with me, Bob, once I am of age and start in business," laughed Eleanor.

"That will do, young lady! Remember you are only fourteen, and business is a long time off for you!" Mrs. Maynard remarked.

Then Eleanor hung over the back of her father's chair twisting the iron-gray hair into ridiculous points while her mother and Barbara forgot her presence and planned many fetching gowns for the summer campaign. Both were fair examples of modern society and its aims, and they sacrificed many worth-while plans and pleasures upon the altar of their fickle G.o.ddess. So it followed that the fas.h.i.+onable tailors, the modiste and the lingerie-maker st.i.tched and fitted and clipped, on beautiful materials and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, until everything was ready for Barbara's summer victory. Eleanor steadfastly refused to be annoyed by having new clothes made, so her trunk was packed with the wardrobe she already had on hand.

"Of course, Nolla's appearance is not of as much consequence as yours, Bob, as she still is so young and delicate. It is different with you, however, and I'm so glad you are sensible to appreciate what a difference clothes make," said Mrs. Maynard, resignedly, as the seven trunks were packed and waiting for the expressman.

"I'm glad your fussing is over at last. If you had much more to sew and fit we never _would_ get away!" grumbled Eleanor, watching the man stagger as he carried the heavy trunks downstairs.

"Well, I'll soon be reaping the benefit of my patience and _you'll_ be sorry you were so indifferent over your looks," retorted Barbara, turning away from the window once her five trunks were safely on the express wagon.

"Girls, you're sure everything that Celeste wrote down on the list is packed? Your complexion cream in case of freckles or tan--and the shampoo mixture for the hair-dresser to use? Tell him I never allow you to use ready-made preparations on your hair."

"Yes, mother, all the toilet articles are in the small trunk, and the few extra things were packed in Eleanor's trunk because she had a corner with nothing to fill in it," explained Barbara.

"Thank goodness we can eat dinner and go to bed to-night without being served styles and fits!" sighed Eleanor, not meaning to be irreverent at her mother's gospel.

Anne Stewart had not mentioned the need of mountain-shoes and good plain clothing in her letters to the Maynards, because Mr. Maynard particularly requested her to delete such items. Anne was bright at reading minds and smiled as she surmised the reason for the restriction. She knew Eleanor would glory in old clothes and a good time, but would _Barbara_ be so willing to visit Pebbly Pit farm if she knew the truth about the environment?

Anne's single steamer trunk was filled with sensible clothes and the toilet articles she knew she would need for the summer. Then she wired the Maynards to say all was waiting to hear from them. And Barbara wired back that they would meet her at the Denver Terminal Station at the day and time agreed upon.

Meantime, great preparations were under way at Pebbly Pit. John's room had to be cleaned and rearranged for the young ladies. While Polly and her mother planned the work, Mr. Brewster made a thorough search of the countryside in hopes of finding a suitable maid-servant for his wife and Polly.

Most ranchers need their daughters at home, and as there are no really poor or poverty-stricken families in those farming sections, the task of finding a servant was not an easy one. And Mr. Brewster realized what it meant, when he read in the papers how difficult a problem it was becoming--this servant-girl question!

At last, as he was about to despair of ever finding any one, he stopped in at the Oak Creek Post Office to see if there was any mail. Here he met a rancher-friend from the Yellow Jacket Pa.s.s region.

"How-thar, Sam!" called Jim Sattler, heartily.

"How-do yourself, Jim!" returned Mr. Brewster, catching hold of Jim's hardened hand and shaking it back and forth.

"You-all air a sight for sore eyes, Sam! Hain't seen hide nor hair of any one of you for nigh onto a year! Be'n keepin' pritty busy, Sam?"

said Jim, in a voice that rolled forth like deep thunder.

"Mighty busy, Jim! John's away to college, you know, and now my leetle chick thinks she can scratch for herself, too. She's bound to go to school, in Denver, this coming fall."

"Sam, nuthin' like it, these days! A man or woman has to have ddication to ra.s.sle with livin'! Let her go to it, says Ah! It won't be long afore my boys'll be goin' away, too!"

"That's what brings me here to-day. Ah have been hunting for some kind of a gal to help the missus this summer and to have her broken in by the time Polly leaves home," explained Sam Brewster.

"Git one?"

"Not yet! It seems they're as scarce as hen's teeth. Ah never dreamed it would be such a job to hunt one up, or Ah doubt if Ah'd have consented to have those girls come and summer with us."

"See har, Sam! Ah bet Ah knows just the woman for you-all, ef you-all ain't lookin' for a young gal with a figger like a wisp of hay."

"Polly's wisp enough for one ranch! So Ah'm not looking for style but stock. Do you-all know one, Jim?"

"Ah do that! Sary Dodd's her name. You know Bill Dodd, don't yuh--he never 'mounted to much as a rancher."

"Seems to me Ah do! The name's familiar, anyway. Did he come from Yellow Jacket Pa.s.s way?" asked Mr. Brewster, scratching his neck, thoughtfully.

"The same! Wall, he died an' left Sary with nothing but funeral costs.

She had to sell that measly ranch that Bill held a quarter interest in to pay bills, and now she hain't got nawthin' but her health. Better see Sary, Sam."

It was the dawn of hope for Mr. Brewster. Since starting on his self-appointed search, he had been growing more and more despondent of success. Now he urged his horse towards Yellow Jacket Pa.s.s to find Sary Dodd.

After seeking at various ranches for the elusive Sary, he located her.

But she was not elusive looking. She was six feet in height and would tip the scales easily at two hundred pounds.

"Are you widow Dodd? Jim Sattler sent me to see if you-all would like a place to live out? We-all have company for the summer and my wife needs help," explained Sam Brewster.

Sary beamed and exchanged polite introductions. "You-all tuk me clar off my feet, Mr. Brewster. Yes, Ah did think some of goin' in a reel good fam'ly to wuk, but nawthin' come up fer me, so Ah'm visitin' the neighbors. Do you-all want me immijit?"

The rancher saw that Sary was over-anxious to accept his offer of a place, but he was not the man to take advantage of her in financial matters. So he replied:

"Ah s'pose we ought to fix the wage, but Mrs. Brewster wants some one at once, and you-all can settle salary when you-all get there."

"Ah've heerd tell what a square man you-all was, Mr. Brewster, an' now Ah knows it!" Suspicious moisture filled Sary's eyes as she spoke.

"Ah've won a way by being honest in all my dealings, for it pays in the end. But tell me--can you come along?"

"Ef you-all kin wait, Ah'll tie up my bundle in a minit!" agreed Sary, anxiously.

"All right! But don't waste any time packing your ball-gowns, Sary,"

laughed Mr. Brewster, facetiously, as the load of trouble rolled from his heart. Sary was soon perched beside the rancher on the high spring seat of the lumbering ranch-wagon, tenderly holding a half-dead rubber plant. On that drive, her host heard more of every family history of the ranchers for miles around than he had ever dreamed of knowing even if he lived to be a hundred.

Sary Dodd arrived at the ranch-house the day before the visitors were expected. Mrs. Brewster and Polly were in the midst of a light house-cleaning as the strangers must not find a speck of dust anywhere!

"Maw, here's Sary Dodd! Ah got her to help!" shouted Sam Brewster, pulling up his horse by the side of the porch.