John and Anne found so much to say to each other before the separation came, that they were not to be seen all that day. Polly felt sure she would find them seated on the Imps at the Cliffs, if she wanted to take the trouble to walk there. But she didn't.
Mrs. Brewster and Eleanor were together, talking over many pleasant secrets, or at least Polly thought they must be pleasant from the smiling countenance on her friend. Now and then she caught such words as "you know all about such things, Nolla," or Eleanor might say "she will be on top of the heap, if I know it, Mrs. Brewster," so it was evident that she, Polly, was the subject of their conversation. But Polly herself, felt little concern about it all, as she saw the forlorn expression on her father's face as he went about his ranch-duties. Finally she decided upon taking a radical step.
She went to the room where she found her meager wardrobe displayed in every country-like detail. So this was what Eleanor was planning—a conquest made with fine clothes such as she had!
"Mother," she began; "I have changed my mind about going to school. I have decided to remain here with father and you."
"Oh, Poll! You just can't!" cried Eleanor.
"Why this sad countenance, daughter, if you believe you will be happier here than away?" countered Mrs. Brewster.
"Because I am as miserable as Daddy about leaving."
Mrs. Brewster laughed merrily, albeit she felt no joy in her soul. "Then the sooner we dispel this gloom by packing you off, the better. I haven't the slightest doubt but that you will wonder at your present attitude, the moment John and Tom have gone. Once let every young person leave us here all alone for the long solitary winter, and you will eat your heart out to think that you could have been so mistaken as to refuse this wonderful opportunity to make something of yourself and your wealth."
Polly knew in her heart that her mother spoke the truth, but she never dreamed what it cost that mother to speak cheerily as she did about her only girl's going—in fact, almost persuading her to go. For that wise mother had heard the yearnings in Polly's voice the day she spoke so daringly of all her ambitions and of her future. And she understood that this transitory spell of regret was merely the contagion of Mr. Brewster's woe-be-gone thoughts and behavior.
"I'll get after Sam, and that good and plenty!" thought Mrs. Brewster to herself, as she watched Polly with keen understanding.