CHAPTER XI
WHAT HAPPENED TO POLLY
Priscilla’s spirits rose with every mile that brought her nearer home. Her mother and Hannah watched her shining eyes with satisfaction and listened to the rare sound of her merry chatter as if it had been the sweetest of music. They were as grateful for the change in her as sparrows are when, after a long succession of stormy days, the sun comes out again.
One question rather puzzled and disturbed her mother.
What was to be done about Polly after their return? Priscilla seemed to have forgiven and forgotten their quarrel and was ready and anxious to make up and be friends once more, as Hannah had foretold she would be, but Mrs. Duer could not help remembering that Polly had raised her hand against her darling and, she felt that no one could blame her if she were not willing to trust the child with her again. Priscilla had so tender and compassionate a little heart that she could never harbor ill-will against anybody, but she had barely escaped a dreadful calamity and her mother felt that it would be worse than reckless to run the risk of repeating a danger for which, plainly, Polly was responsible. No; Polly must go, that was clear, and Priscilla would doubtless soon cease to miss her, once she was at home again.
But as they drew nearer and nearer their journey’s end it was easy to see for whom Priscilla’s heart had been longing, and for what she had been homesick. She thought and talked of nothing but Polly and her usually silent little tongue fairly ran over with eager, anxious chatter.
“S’posing Polly were to be at the station to meet them!” “S’posing Polly didn’t know they were coming and would be so surprised she’d jump right up and down with gladness!” There seemed to be no end to the delightful things Priscilla amused herself by “s’posing.”
“When we get home I want to speak to Polly the first thing,” she confided to Hannah. “I have something I very p’rtic’larly want to say to her.”
But when the train at last drew up beside the station and the travelers stepped out upon the platform, Priscilla’s happy smile faded to a wistful shadow of itself, for no Polly was awaiting her anywhere about, as she had fondly encouraged herself to “s’pose” might be the case. However, in the pleasant excitement of feeling she was really at home at last, she recovered her good spirits and was as gay and light-hearted as ever during the brisk drive from the depot.
“I guess Polly will be waiting for us at the gate,” she managed to whisper eagerly in Hannah’s ear, between quick little peerings this way and that in the hope of spying her nearer at hand. But the carriage rolled through the gate and up the shady avenue without bringing any waiting Polly into view. Again Priscilla’s expectant smile grew wistful.