“Teeters and tongs!” ejaculated the housekeeper, “what in the universe are you up at five o’clock for? I calculated on havin’ the kitchen to myself for two hours longer.” She stood and viewed Polly dejectedly.
The girl laughed. “I’m going right away,” she said. “I won’t hinder you a minute. If I can help,” she added, “I’ll stay.”
Benedicta shook her head, as Polly turned to the piazza door. “Hold on!” she called in a hushed tone: “I might as well stop now and tell you. The cookies are baked, the bread’s goin’ all right, and the pies are ready—wait a minute and I’ll put the bread in.” She came from the oven, laid her holder on the only empty corner of the table, and glanced around. “Huh,” she muttered, “looks as if the Devil was havin’ an auction!” Then she sat down.
“I s’pose you know all about Sereno Wheatley and me.”
“No,” answered Polly.
Benedicta looked at her with her eyes narrowed. “Do you mean to say, Miss Polly, that you haven’t asked what anybody in town could communicate?”
“I have made no inquiries,” Polly replied. “I thought if there was anything that you wished me to know you would tell me.”
“Well, if you aren’t the nicest! The idea of your not askin’! I s’posed you knew the whole story from A to Z. Dear me, I must tell it quick, for I’ve got lots of bakin’ to do before breakfast.
“Sereno Wheatley is my half-brother. My mother married twice. Sereno was Wheatley’s child and I was a Clapperton. He’s considerable older ’n I am, but we were always chummy, some way—we liked each other, or did till he got married. We all s’posed he was goin’ to marry Isabel Lockwood, the prettiest girl in town; but if he didn’t go to Boston an’ get acquainted with Lily Starr, an’ before we knew anything about it he brought her home—married! We never liked her, not one of us. My father wouldn’t have ’em at home, so off they went, and I guess they had a hard time gettin’ along. She was pretty enough, but she’d been brought up different from what he had, and I s’pose I kept comparin’ her with Isabel Lockwood—Isabel was my chum. She died young. Lily was called a beauty, but she wasn’t a circumstance to Isabel. Anyway, she was a Democrat! That was enough for my father. But I d’n’ know. It looks different now from what it did then. I—I guess it’s partly that little Ferne kid an’ partly you, Miss Polly—anyway, I feel somehow different.
“An’ that makes me think of one thing more I’ve got to tell you. I didn’t lie when I broke your car and said I ran into my Miss Flora and Mr. Aimé. I did, but I didn’t make any remarks about what started my doin’ it. Oscarlucy was takin’ Rosalind to ride in her little cart—she was always peregrinatin’ round with that kid—and I turned the corner an’ come on them so sudden, I almost run ’em down! I was ’bout scared to death, and then I swung out so far I just scooted into my other folks! That’s the truth and every mite I’ve got to confess. Well, I heard las’ night that his wife’s sick—it’s a fever—and they can’t get a soul to come an’ help. So there they are, Sereno and that ten-year-old Oscarlucy. If she’s like most children she’s worse ’n nobody, an’ when it comes to nursin’, a man ain’t in it, no matter how good he is. So I’ve got to go! I said to myself ’t I couldn’t, ’t my place was here with you and the kids. And I went to bed. But then I got to thinkin’ till I ’most jumped up an’ started off. You see, I—well, I’d been prayin’ the Lord to give me an opportunity to kind o’ make up with Sereno, for I couldn’t just go walkin’ in there after all these years and say, ‘Brother Sereno and Sister Lily, I’ve come to be reconciled’! I couldn’t fire off such a thing at ’em, could I? Well, when it come to me that here was the opportunity I’d been prayin’ for, I made up my mind I’d better get down there as quick as I could. But I wasn’t goin’ to leave you in the lurch! So I set my alarm-clock and got up at half-past three—”