Polly occupied the seat of honour at the end of the table opposite Dr. Winship, and was happier than a queen. She wore her new green cambric, with a bunch of leaves at her belt. She was sun-burned, but the freckles seemed to have disappeared mysteriously from her nose, and almost any one would have admired the rosy skin, the dancing eyes, and the graceful little auburn head, “sunning over with curls.”
When the last bit of dessert had been disposed of, and Dicky had gone to sleep in his mother’s lap, like an infant boa-constrictor after a hearty meal, the presentation of gifts and reading of poems took place; and Polly had to be on the alert to answer all the nonsensical jokes that were aimed at her.
Finally, Bell crowned the occasion by producing a song of Miss Mulock’s, which had come in the morning mail from some girl friend of Polly’s in the East, who had discovered that Polly’s name had appeared in poetry and song without her knowledge, and who thought she might be interested to hear the composition. With the aid of Bell’s guitar and Jack’s banjo the girls and boys soon caught the pretty air, and sung it in chorus.
At the end, Dr. Winship raised his glass of lemonade, and proposed to drink Miss Oliver’s health. This was done with enthusiasm, and Geoffrey immediately cried, “Speech, speech!”
“I can’t,” said Polly, blushing furiously.
“Speech!” sung Jack and Philip vociferously, pounding on the table with knife-handles to increase the furore.
“Speech!” demanded the genial doctor, going over to the majority, and smiling encouragingly at Polly, who was pushed to her feet before she knew very well what she was doing. “Oh, if Laura were not looking at me,” she thought, “I’d just like to speak right out, and tell them a little bit of what is in my heart. I don’t care—I will!”
“I know you are all in fun,” she said, looking bravely into the good doctor’s eyes, “and of course no one could make a proper speech with Jack grinning like a Cheshire cat, but I can’t help telling you that this is the happiest summer and the happiest birthday of my whole life, and that I scarcely remember nowadays that I have no father and no brothers and sisters, for I have never been alone or unhappy since you took me in among you and Bell chose me for her friend; and I think that if you knew how grateful I am for my beautiful summer, dear Dr. Paul and Aunt Truth, you would be glad that you gave it to me, and I love you all, dearly, dearly, dearly!” Whereupon the impulsive little creature finished her maiden speech by dashing round the table and giving Mrs. Winship one of her “bear hugs,” at which everybody laughed and rose from the table.