“We haven’t been there yet,” Polly said, her dark eyes full of sympathy, as she held the flowers that Aunt Cynthy clipped steadily while she talked.
“Haven’t you? It’s real int’restin’,” answered the old lady cheerily. “I like it better, somehow, than the new one down by the church. That was built recently, thirty years ago, wasn’t it, Tom? The old one goes back long before that, and I want to lie there, even if the graves be half sunken, and some of the stones lopsided. I guess they sleep the long sleep just as well. I had father and the children buried sorter opposite from the way other folks do. I didn’t p’int them to the east and the sunrise. I p’inted them due west, so they can look straight out over the bay from the east shore of the channel. I know that’s the way they would have liked it best. These here tea roses are real sweet and friendly, don’t you think so? and lasting, too.”
“I think the whole garden is lovely,” cried Polly. “I just wish I could reach out and hug them all. Seems as if I never saw such a garden before.”
“Well, flowers are like children and friends. Give ’em love and care, and plenty of fresh water, and they’ll love you back a hundred-fold. Stop in any time, girls. Tom and Nancy are over every day or so, and they always come to see me. I was born to mother something, and as long as the dear Lord saw fit to gather my babies in his arms, I have to mother the roses, and all the other babies, little and big, that come to my garden, don’t you see?”
“Isn’t she a darling?” exclaimed Ruth, when they finally left the little white cottage, and started over to the depot. Polly had coaxed and coaxed until she had prevailed, and Mrs. Bardwell had promised to go back with them to watch the races. The carry-all and its capacity had been argued over, until Polly said the Admiral could get one of the village teams and take Kate and Ruth with him.
Polly buried her nose in her bouquet, and just smiled and sighed all at once.
“I’m too full for utterance, as Crullers says after dinner,” she laughed. “But there’s one thing certain. I am coming back to that white cottage again. Wait till we see Aunty Welcome’s face when she smells these late roses. She was saying only yesterday that the only thing she was homesick for were the roses at Glenwood. Listen. Oh, girls, there’s the train whistle!”
She forgot everything except the dear grandfather who was on that train, and before the rest could catch up with her, she started on a run towards the little red station. It was an excursion train from Portland, one that connected with the southern expresses and came up to Eastport in honor of the regatta. Polly stood up on a wooden box near the express office, and watched the outpouring of the crowds, men, women, and children, all bearing lunch boxes, and all dressed in holiday and outing clothes. But she could not see the Admiral anywhere. Finally, somebody put an arm around her very quietly, and she turned to find the Admiral smiling down on her.
“Oh, you dear, you precious old dear,” cried Polly, as she nearly strangled him with her strong, young embrace. “I never even saw you leave the train and I watched everyone.”
“Didn’t you see me riding on the engine so I’d be the first one off?” the Admiral asked, teasingly, as he pinched her cheek. “I was up forward in the smoker, mate. Where did you collect those freckles? Where are all the other girls?”