The days dragged slowly by; hot, sultry, lonely days. There was nothing much for a little girl to do in the great empty house, and Polly wandered about rather disconsolately at first, missing good Hannah and Priscilla at every turn and learning anew how dear they had become to her. There was not much fun in playing with her doll when there was no one to join in the game. She visited Oh-my in his stable and found the greatest consolation in telling him her secrets and feeling that he understood and sympathized with her.
“You see, pony,” she explained, “I haven’t got anybody to talk to now but you, and it makes me feel lonesome. Theresa has the charge of me, but she stays down-stairs mostly and doesn’t pay very much attention. Besides, James told me she doesn’t like little girls, and I guess it’s true, for sometimes her voice isn’t very pleasant when she says things to me and I’d rather not bother her unless I have to, because it makes her nervous.”
And Oh-my put his head down and nosed Polly’s hand in the friendliest, manner possible, as if to say: “I understand perfectly, my dear. I’ve gone through the same thing myself, so I know precisely how you feel.”
But one thunder-stormy day Polly happened to stroll into the library down-stairs, because the nursery seemed so far off when the lightning was flashing and the great, crashing peals made one’s breath clutch at one’s throat, and as it happened, that was the last of her loneliness, for how could one possibly feel solitary with such a multitude of delightful friends as she found in those well-filled book-shelves? She forgot the storm, forgot the heat, forgot everything, in fact, but the new world she had found and that proved so full of endless delights and surprises.
She did not venture to take any of the volumes very far from their shelves, but she discovered it was thoroughly comfortable, as well as convenient, to cuddle back of the library curtains on the wide window-sill, and, in this hidden nook with her new-found treasures to keep her company, she was entirely happy and remained lost to the world for hours at a time. So long as she appeared promptly at meal-time Theresa did not care where she was, so Polly got through the days much bettor than could have been expected and before she realized it, it was drawing near the time when the travelers should return.
Meanwhile, Priscilla was causing her mother and Hannah no end of disappointment and worry. The railroad journeys tired and bored her since there was no lively Polly across the aisle to invent new plays for her or take the lead in the old ones. She sat upon the beach at the seashore and could not be induced to stir from Hannah’s side. Once or twice, some sociable child, anxious to make friends, would venture up and ask if she did not want to come and play, but Priscilla always turned away her head shyly and refused to be neighborly.
“Why don’t you go and play with that nice little girl, Priscilla?” Hannah urged. “She’s a real little lady. I’ve watched her ever since we came on the sands and I’ve never seen her cross or selfish. Go along, dear! You’ll have lots of fun.”
But Priscilla shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she murmured wistfully. “She doesn’t play the right way. Not—not—the way Polly does. Polly plays the best way. If Polly were here I’d play.”
The fresh sea-air brought the color back to her cheeks and she grew thoroughly strong and well again, but she was languid and restless and nothing appeared to please her.