POLLY RETURNS TO AMERICA
Five girls were promenading the deck of one of our great Atlantic liners, on the last day of the trip. The report had gone out that they might expect to reach quarantine before five o’clock, but it would be too late to dock that night, therefore the captain had planned an evening’s entertainment for all on board.
“Miss Brewster! Miss Polly Brewster! Polly Brewster!” came a call from one of the young boys of the crew who was acting as messenger for the wireless operator.
“Polly, he is calling you! I wonder what it is?” cried Eleanor Maynard, Polly’s dearest friend.
“Here, boy! I am Polly Brewster,” called Polly, waving her hand to call his attention to herself.
“Miss Polly Brewster?” asked the uniformed attendant politely, lifting his cap.
“Yes.”
He handed her an envelope such as the wireless messages are delivered in, and bowed to take his leave of the group of girls. Polly gazed at the outside of the envelope but did not open it. Her friends laughed and Nancy Fabian, the oldest girl of the five, said teasingly:
“Isn’t it delicious to worry one’s self over who could have sent us a welcome, when we might know for certain, if we would but act prosaically and open the seal.”
The girls laughed, and Eleanor remarked, knowingly: “Oh, Polly knows who it is from! She just wants to enjoy a few extra thrills before she reads the message.”
“Nolla, I do not know, and you know it! You always make ‘a mountain from a mole-hill.’ I declare, you are actually growing to be childish in your old age!” retorted Polly, sarcastically.
Her latter remark drew forth a peal of laughter from the girls, Eleanor included. But Polly failed to join in the laugh. She cast a withering glance at Eleanor, and walked aside to open the envelope. The four interested girls watched her eagerly as she read the short message.
Polly would have given half of her mine on Grizzly Slide, to have controlled her expression. But the very knowledge that the four friends were critically eyeing her, made her flush uncomfortably as she folded up the paper again, and slipped it in her pocket.
“Ha! What did I tell you! It is from HIM!” declared Eleanor, laughingly.
Dorothy Alexander was duly impressed, for she had firmly believed, hitherto, that Polly was a man-hater. The manner in which she had scorned Jimmy Osgood on that tour of England would have led anyone to believe that such was the case. Now the tell-tale blush and Eleanor’s innuendo, caused Dorothy to reconsider her earlier judgment.
Polly curled her full red lip at Eleanor’s remark, and was about to speak of something of general interest, when Dorothy unexpectedly asked a (to her) pertinent question.
“Polly, has anyone ever proposed to you?”
Eleanor laughed softly to herself, and Polly sent poor Dodo a pitying glance. “Is that little head of yours entirely void of memory, Dodo?” said she.
Then, without waiting for a reply, Polly continued: “Did not Jimmy propose to me, as well as to every one of you girls?”
“Oh, but I didn’t mean that sort of an affair,” explained Dorothy. “I mean—were you ever in love with anyone who thought he loved you?”
“Oh, isn’t this a delightful conversation? I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world!” laughed Eleanor.
“Nolla,” rebuked Polly, seriously, “your head has been so turned since all those poor fortune-hunters in Europe flattered you, that I fear you will never succeed in business with me. I shall have to find someone else who will prove trustworthy and work.”
Polly’s threat did not appear to disturb Eleanor very much, for she laughed merrily and retorted: “Dodo, if I answer your question for Polly, what will you do for me, some day?”
“Nolla, you mind your own affairs!” exclaimed Polly, flushing again. “Dodo is such a tactless child that she never stops to consider whether her questions are too personal, or not. But you—well, you know better, and I forbid you to discuss me any further.”
“Come, come, girls! This little joke is really going too far, if Polly feels hurt about it. Let us drop the subject and talk about the dance the Captain is going to give us tonight,” suggested Nancy.
“I’m going to wear the new gown mother got in Paris,” announced Dorothy. “Ma says we can save duty on it if I wear it before it reaches shore.”
The other girls laughed, and Eleanor added: “That’s a good plan, Dodo. I guess I will follow your example. I’ve got so many dutiable things in my trunks, that I really ought to economise on something.”
“Well, I won’t wear one of my new dresses tonight for just that reason. If I want them badly enough, to bring them all the way from Paris where we get them so much cheaper than on this side, then I’m willing to pay Uncle Sam his revenue on them,” said Polly, loftily.
“Ho! I don’t believe it is duty you are saving, as much as indulging in perverseness by not donning one of your most fetching gowns,” declared Eleanor.
“Maybe it is,” said Polly, smiling tantalizingly at her chum. “Perhaps I want to keep the freshness of them for someone in New York, eh?”
“Certainly! He will be there to meet you, sure thing!” laughed Eleanor.
At that, Dorothy drew Eleanor aside and, when Polly was not looking, whispered eagerly: “Do tell me who he is?”
But Eleanor laughingly shook her head and whispered back: “I dare not! That is Polly’s secret!”
But she did not add for Dorothy’s edification, that try as she would, she (Eleanor) had never been able to make Polly confess whether she preferred one swain to another. As Eleanor considered this a weakness in her own powers of persuasion, she never allowed anyone to question her that far.
Had anyone of the four girls dreamed of who the sender of the wireless was, what a buzzing there would have been! Eleanor Maynard would have been so pleased at the possibility of a romance, that she would have acted even more tantalizing, in Polly’s opinion, than she had been of late months.
Perhaps you are not as well acquainted with Polly and her friends, however, as I am, and it would be unkind to continue their experiences for your entertainment, until after you are duly informed of how Polly happened to leave her home in Oak Creek and also what had passed during the Summer in Europe.
Polly Brewster was born and reared on a Rocky Mountain ranch, in Colorado, and had until her fourteenth year, never been farther from her home than Oak Creek, which was the railroad station and post office of the many ranchers of that section.
Eleanor Maynard, the younger daughter of Mr. Maynard who was a prosperous banker of Chicago, accompanied her sister Barbara and Anne Stewart, the teacher, when they spent a summer on the ranch. Their thrilling adventures during the first half of that summer are told in the book called “Polly of Pebbly Pit,” the first volume of this series.
After the discovery of the gold mine on Grizzly Slide, and the subsequent troubles with the claim-jumpers, Polly and her friends sent for John Brewster who was engaged to Anne Stewart, and Tom Latimer, John’s best friend, to leave their engineering work on some mines, for the time being, and hasten to Pebbly Pit to advise about the gold mine, and to take action to protect the girls. These experiences are told in the second volume of this series.
Success being assured in the mining plans of the gold vein on Grizzly Slide, and the valuable lava cliffs located on Pebbly Pit ranch also finding a market as brilliant gems for use in jewelry, Polly and Eleanor decided to accompany Anne Stewart to New York, where she was going to teach in an exclusive school for young ladies.
In the third book, Polly and Eleanor’s adventures in New York are told. Their school experiences; the amateur theatricals at which Polly saved a girl from the fire, and thus found some splendid friends; and the new acquaintance, Ruth Ashby, who was the only child of the Ashbys. They also met Mr. Fabian in a most unusual manner, and through him, they became interested in Interior Decorating, to study it as a profession. When the school-year ended, all these friends invited the two girls to join their party that was planned to tour Europe and visit noted places where antiques are exhibited.
The following fourth book describes the amusing incidents of the three girls on board the steamer, after they meet the Alexanders. Mrs. Alexander, the gorgeously-plumed ranch-woman; Dorothy, always known as “Dodo,” the restive girl of Polly’s own age; and little Ebeneezer Alexander, too meek and self-effacing to deny his spouse anything, but always providing the funds for her caprices. This present caprice, of rushing to Europe to find a “title” for Dodo to marry, was the latest and hardest of all for him to agree to.
Because of Mrs. Alexander’s whim, the ludicrous experiences that came upon the innocent heads of Polly and her friends, in the tour of England in two motor cars, decided them to escape from that lady, and run away to Paris. Before they could sigh in relief at their freedom, however, the Alexanders loomed again on their horizon.
Plan as they would, the badgered tourists found that Mrs. Alexander had annexed herself permanently to them. They resigned themselves to the inevitable. But that carried with it more ridiculous affairs, when Mrs. Alexander plotted for the titles found dangling before her, in various places on the Continent.
One good result came from this association with the Alexanders: Dodo found how fascinating the work of collecting really was, and decided to study decorating as an art. Hence she spurned her mother’s ambitions for her, and announced her plan of remaining in New York with the girls, upon their return to America, to follow in their line of study.
Mrs. Alexander felt quite satisfied to live in New York for a season, as she fancied it an easy matter to forge a way into good society there. But her spouse detested large cities and longed for his mining life once more, but agreed to it because Dodo was delighted with the opportunity opened before her, in the profession of decorator.
Polly’s party on board the steamer consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Ashby and Ruth; Mr. and Mrs. Fabian and Nancy; Mr. and Mrs. Alexander and Dodo; and lastly, Polly Brewster and Eleanor Maynard.
Just a word about the last two girls: Polly knew that Eleanor was fond of Paul Stewart since she met him a few years before. And Eleanor wondered if Polly preferred Tom Latimer to any other young man she knew; but Polly always declared that she was married to her profession and had no time to spare for beaus. Hence Tom Latimer sighed and hoped that she might change her mind some day.
Meantime, Tom lost no good opportunity to show how he appreciated Polly and, whenever possible, he managed to perform the little deeds that mean so much to a woman—especially if that woman is young and impressionable. Thus he actually made better headway in his silent campaign for Polly, by never broaching the subject of love—from which she would have fled instantly and then barred the doors of her heart.
The wireless received by Polly was from Tom who had been anxiously awaiting the time when he could communicate with the vessel. The contents of the message could have been read to all the world without exciting comment—it was so brotherly. But Polly felt that it was a private welcome to her and so it was not to be shared with others.
The wireless said that Tom and Polly’s dear friends who were in New York, had been invited on board Mr. Dalken’s yacht, to visit the quarantined steamer that evening. That they would arrive about eight o’clock, having secured passes from the Inspector at Quarantine.
Although this explanation about Polly and her associates took time for us, it did not interrupt the lively banter between the five girls. Dorothy was now certain that Polly had a real beau, somewhere, and being so very candid and talkative herself, she admired the reticence displayed by Polly in keeping the affairs of her heart to herself.
Dodo whispered back to Eleanor: “Dear me! I hope he is worthy of her. She ought to have the finest husband in the world.”
Eleanor laughed. “Don’t worry, Dodo. She will. If he was not meant for Polly, I’d try and get him for myself—that is how much I admire him.”
“Oh my! Won’t you tell me something about him, Nolla?” asked Dorothy, eagerly.
“I really don’t dare, Dodo,” returned Eleanor, assuming a wise expression. “Polly would drop me forever, if she thought I confided in anyone about her love-affairs. Besides, you can find out everything for yourself, now that you are going to remain with us, this winter. Still, I would love to know just who that wireless came from.” Eleanor added the latter remark after a moment’s deep consideration.
“I’ll tell you what we can do,” ventured Dorothy, in a whisper. “We have often visited the wireless room; let’s you and I go there again, and start a friendly chat with the operator. Maybe he will speak of the message.”
Without stopping to think whether this method would be principled or not, Eleanor eagerly agreed to Dorothy’s plan. While Polly and Nancy were discussing the beautiful hazy picture made by New York’s sky-line as seen from the Harbor at Quarantine, Dorothy and Eleanor hurried to the wireless room.
The young man had often been entertained by the girls during the trip from Europe, so this visit was not suspected of having a secret motive back of it. He chatted pleasantly with his callers and, after a time, spoke of the very topic they wished to hear about.
“I suppose you girls will all be on the qui vive this evening?”
“Yes, it is awfully nice of the captain, isn’t it?” said Eleanor, referring to the dance and thinking that the operator also meant that event.
“Oh, I do not think the captain had as much to do with the invitation as had the Inspector General of the Quarantine. Of course we have a clean bill for the ship or no one would have been allowed to step on board tonight; but at the same time your friends must have had a good hard time to get the invitation from the authorities. Only a New Yorker who understands the ropes, could have managed the matter so quickly.”
Dorothy was about to ask what he was talking about, when Eleanor pinched her arm for silence. Then the latter spoke: “Oh yes! He is a wonder—we think!”
Dorothy gasped at Eleanor, and the smiling girl winked secretly at her. The operator had not seen the pinch nor the wink, but he continued guilelessly: “Well, from what I’ve seen of Miss Polly, only a ‘wonder’ would cause her to notice him at all!”
He laughed at his own words and Eleanor joined him, even though she failed to see a joke. Then she said: “Polly could have so many admirers, but she never looks at a man. Perhaps that is why all you males sigh so broken-heartedly at her heels.”
The young man laughed softly to himself. “Maybe! But this ‘Tom’ seems to feel assured of a ‘look’ from her.”
Now it was Dorothy’s turn to pinch Eleanor, and she did so with great gusto. Eleanor winced but dared not express herself in any other manner, just then. She was too keen on the trail of learning what she could, to signify any sense of having felt that pinch.
“Oh—Tom! He is an old family friend, you know. He was Polly’s brother’s college-chum for four years while both boys studied at the University of Chicago. I am from Chicago, and I knew those boys when they used to come to my home with my brother, who also attended the engineering classes. There was a fourth boy—Paul Stewart, who was from Denver. Anne Stewart was his sister and she married John Brewster, this Spring. So you see, we are all old friends together. I suppose the whole family crowd will come out on the yacht, tonight.”
Dorothy listened in sheer amazement, as Eleanor spoke with all the assurance possible. But Dorothy was not aware of Eleanor’s lifelong training in the home of a social leader of Chicago’s exclusive set. That such a home-training made a girl precocious and subtle, was not strange, and Eleanor had had fourteen years of such a life before she went to Pebbly Pit and met Polly. Habits so well-engrounded are not easily broken, or forgotten.
“Then the sender ought to have sent his message to one of the adults of the party. Even I misjudged the matter, because I thought this ‘Tom’ must be a faithful admirer of Miss Polly’s to get through to visit the steamer tonight,” explained the operator.
“But he isn’t coming alone—didn’t you stop to consider that?” asked Eleanor, eagerly. “Seeing that most of the friends are Polly’s personal ones, the wire was sent to her, you know.”
“I see.”
“The only thing that hurt me, was that no one sent me a message. Tom is as dear to me as to Polly, and I wonder he did not wire me.”
“Perhaps this Tom thought you would have scores of eager messages the moment your beaus knew you were near enough to get them,” laughed the young officer.
“Well, they didn’t! But I want you to do something for me—will you?” asked Eleanor, quite unexpectedly.
“I will if I can,” agreed the officer.
“Write off a fake message for me and sign some make-believe name to it, so I can hold my head up with Polly. She will never let me rest if she thinks she got a line, and I didn’t!”
“Oh, that is easy to do. As long as we know it will never come out, and that I wrote a line to you, it will be a good joke.”
“All right!” laughed Eleanor, delightedly. “Now write:——” She stopped suddenly, then thought for a moment before she said: “Why not copy the exact words sent to Polly, but sign another name?”
“I’ll write one, as much like the original as possible without actually duplicating that information,” chuckled the officer.
Then he took up a slip of paper and wrote: “Miss Eleanor Maynard. We will join you this evening, on steamer. Yacht will arrive about eight.” He looked up laughingly and asked: “Now what name shall we sign to this?”
“Oh—let me see! Sign ‘Paul.’ I know he is in New York, now, so I am not taking chances of making a mistake,” laughed Eleanor.
The name “Paul” was added to the message and the paper placed in an envelope. This was addressed to Eleanor Maynard and her stateroom number written down upon it. Then it was handed to the gratified girl.
The young man was thanked with unwarranted warmth, and the two girls hastened away.