"Ye'll not let the children go there, but if I might make so bold as to advise ye, 'm, I'd ask ye ter let the portrait go an' stay away from there. The place is jist haunted, and the demons might get ye, even in daylight!" Nora had shrieked that Aunt Lois might hear.

"Nora! Nora! Not a word of demons or haunting! You well know that I do not approve of any such foolish notions," Aunt Lois replied.

Nora went back to the kitchen and there expressed her belief to the cook, that studio place was "just full of old spooks!"



CHAPTER VII

AN UNEXPECTED GUEST

ON the day after the one at the studio, Rose and Polly sat on the terrace, their laps filled with flowers. Each was weaving a wreath for the other, and each was intent upon making a very beautiful one.

"Mine will be syringas and pink geraniums," said Rose, "and, Polly Sherwood, would you ever think shadows could be so horrid as they were last night?"

"No, I wouldn't," said Polly, "specially when we're out here in the sunlight. Now, just see what I'm doing. I'm making this wreath of pink rosebuds and mignonette. You'll look fine in it when it's done."

"So will you, Princess Polly, when you wear the wreath I'm making. You always look like a TRULY princess, but you'll look more like one than ever when you have this on. I put syringas in it because they're so sweet," said Rose.

"That's why I used mignonette," said Polly. "Look! Mine is half done."

"Oh, it's lovely!" cried Rose.

They surely were having a fine time. The gay colored boxes filled with bonbons that Aunt Lois had given them lay on the grass between them, and they were almost empty boxes, because busy little hands had paused so often to dip into them.

"Six left," said Rose; "three for you and three for me. Let's keep the boxes for paper dolls, they're such pretty ones."

"We will," agreed Polly, "and now, Rose, try on the wreath."

"Oh, it looks fine on your brown curls," she cried, as she placed the pretty wreath on Rose's head.

"And here's yours," said Rose, as she laid it lightly upon Polly's flaxen curls.

"Oh, my, it's just the right kind of a wreath for you!" she cried. "Let's go in and show them to Aunt Lois."

They sprang from the grass and turned toward the house just in time to meet Nora, the maid, as she was coming toward them.

"Yer Aunt Lois wants yer ter come right in, Miss Rose, an' bring Miss Polly with yer," she said.

"That's funny," said Rose, with a merry laugh in which Polly joined, "for we were just going to run in and let her see our wreaths."

"Well, now, ye look like fairies with the bright flowers on yer hair, an' do ye go right in, because there's someone has come that's wantin' ter see yer. Keep the flowers on yer heads an' go right in," said Nora.

"Who is it, Nora?" Rose asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Well, I do'no whether she'd want yer ter be surprised or let me tell yer, but—it's yer Uncle John!"

The smiles fled from their faces.

"Uncle John!" gasped Rose. "Oh, Nora, is he very old? Does he carry a cane? Is he deaf? Is he going to take me away from here?"

She had clasped her hands nervously, and stood waiting for Nora to answer her questions.

"Now, Miss Rose," said Nora, her eyes twinkling, "I think ye better go right in an' see him."

"But should you think he's over NINETY?" persisted Rose.

"Well I shouldn't say he was OVER that," Nora replied dryly.

"Come Polly," said Rose. "There's nothing else to do but to go in."

With lagging steps they walked along the path and turned toward the house. Then for the first time they saw the automobile in which the guest had arrived.

"Why, who drove him here?" said Rose. "Look! There's no man waiting in it, and if he's NINETY he wouldn't drive alone, would he?"

Polly shook her head.

"Perhaps he isn't QUITE that," she said.

It was the only bit of encouragement that she could offer.

"I think I'll wait here on the piazza," she said when they had reached the door.

"Why, don't you want to meet him?" Rose asked.

"Oh, yes," Polly answered, "but if he's—if he, oh, I don't quite know how I mean it. I just thought perhaps you'd like to know him a little, and then I'll come in, and I'LL know him, too."

Nora, just behind them, reached forward and touched Rose's shoulder.

"Run right in," she said, "the gentleman's waiting to see you."

For the moment she forgot Polly, and hastening across the great hall, lest Uncle John might guess that she did not wish to meet him, little Rose Atherton entered the long, cool parlor, and found herself face to face with a tall, handsome man, who rose to greet her. His waving hair was touched with gray, his brown eyes were merry.

"So this is little Rose," he said, "will you come and let me look at you? Why, who made the dainty wreath for you?"

He offered not one, but both his hands to her, and with a happy cry, she laid her little hands in his.

"Will you come for a few days and make me a visit?" he asked. "You will have a pleasant time, and we shall get acquainted. I think I can make you like me, little Rose."

"Oh, I do, I DO like you NOW!" she cried, and her little heart was filled with delight.

Here was a cheery, handsome young uncle, in place of the unattractive old uncle that she had supposed awaited her.

"Don't remove your wreath," he said, as she raised her hands toward the flowers, "because it is really very becoming. Were you playing alone when I arrived?"

"Oh, no," said Rose, "I was so glad when I saw you, because—" she hesitated.

"Because?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Because you aren't OLD. I thought my Uncle John MUST be 'most ninety," she said softly, so that Aunt Lois might not hear.

"And Polly, Princess Polly, was with me. She's my little guest. May I bring her now? She's so beautiful you'll just love to look at her."

"Oh, then, bring Miss Polly at once," he said.

Rose ran to the hall.

"Oh, come, come!" she said, in a whisper so loud that it reached Uncle John's ear and caused him to laugh softly.

"Come!" she repeated. "He's as handsome as a prince," and clasping Polly's hand, she returned to the parlor.

He greeted Polly as cordially as he had Rose, and Polly at once decided that Rose's Uncle John was the handsomest man, next to her dear papa, that she had ever seen.

"I have been asking Lois to loan Rose to me for a few days, and she has consented. Rose seems to think it might be enjoyable. I would not think, however, of taking her from you while you are her guest, Miss Polly, but if you will come with her, I shall be doubly happy. I have a lovely place at the shore. Will you come?"

"Oh, I'd love to," said Polly, "there's nothing finer than the shore."

"MAY we?" Rose asked, running to Aunt Lois.

"Why, certainly. I think the change will be pleasant for you. Nora must pack whatever you will need in your suit cases. Uncle John never did like to wait for anything, and he wishes to take you back with him."

Uncle John took a package from his pocket.

"I stopped on my way and purchased two veils. Men don't know much about such things, and when the clerk showed me a box full of them, I didn't know which to choose. I looked at a pink and a blue one, and because I'd no idea which you'd like best, I brought them both to you, Rose. You can loan one to Polly. You'll need your hats tied on securely on your ride to the shore."

"Oh, see the lovely, LOVELY VEILS!" cried Rose, when, having opened the parcel, the soft blue and pink gauze lay before them.

"No one could have found prettier ones," said Rose. "On, thank you for bringing them to me. I like to have gifts, but, oh, I LOVE to know folks care to give them to me. That's BEST of all."

"Dear little girl, you are right about that," Uncle John said heartily, "and now run and get your wraps, and we'll spin away to the shore."

"Oh, Polly, Princess Polly, Princess Polly! ISN'T he dear?" whispered Rose, when together they climbed the stairway to help Nora to choose what they would need for the visit.

"Oh, Nora!" cried Rose, "why didn't you tell me he wasn't old at all?"

"Sure, now," replied Nora, "if I'd said what I thought, I'd have said he looked like a noble lord, so he does."

"And I'm to go, too, Nora!" cried Polly, "and wasn't he kind to seem just as glad to have me as he was to have Rose. Of course, he wasn't TRULY, but he was SOME glad, and I wish he was my Uncle John, too."

"Well, now," said Nora, "do ye just PLAY he's yer own uncle, and go along with Rose, and himself ter have a fine visit."

Nora found it something of a task to pack the two suit cases, because the two little girls were so excited that they could hardly keep still long enough to choose what they wished to carry.

"Put my pink dress in, Nora, and Polly, you take your pink one, too," said Rose, "and, oh, come over here to the window and see how lovely the automobile looks from here!"

Away they ran to the window.

"It's a beauty," said Polly, "and I'd rather ride in a red one than—"

"Miss Polly, will I be puttin' yer pink frock in?" questioned Nora, "sure, he's waitin', an' we ought ter hurry the packin'!"

"Well we ought to hurry!" agreed Polly, "and, Rose, didn't his eyes just twinkle when he asked us to come!"

"And to think I EVER believed he was old!" said Rose.

"Hold still till I tie yer hats on with a veil. Now, which will ye wear, Miss Rose?"

"Pink, because it's ROSE color," cried Rose.

"No, no!" said Polly; "the blue is prettier!"

At last they were ready. They ran down the stairway, Nora following with the suit cases, and laughing because they hopped on every other stair.

"All ready? Why, what charming little ladies I have to take home! Those veils are really all right, and hugely becoming. Would you like to start now, or wait an hour or two?" As he asked the question his brown eyes were dancing.

"Oh, now, NOW!" they cried.

He laughed, and stooping, lifted little Rose so that he could look straight into her eyes, eyes as brown as his own.

"Little Rose Atherton," he said softly, "you are like your father, and your mother, too, but most of all you are every inch an Atherton."

He kissed her gently and set her down, but the look in his eyes and the kiss had won her little heart, and she clung to his hand.

Aunt Rose and Aunt Lois had been all that was kind, but Uncle John! Ah, he would LOVE her!

She had always wanted someone to love her.

"Do be careful, John," said Aunt Lois "I can't seem to think those automobiles are as safe as my carriage is."

"I'll take the best of care of my precious little passengers," he said, "and Lois!" speaking loudly, that she might hear, "I remember a ride that I took with you years ago. The horse shied at a piece of old paper in the road, at a girl with a red parasol, and a half dozen other equally harmless things. I'll promise you the automobile won't act like that! If it does, I'll sell it and get another!"

At last they were off. They had waved their hands to Aunt Lois, and now, side by side, they were spinning over the road, Uncle John feeling very proud of his lovely little guests.

They laughed and chattered all the way, and Uncle John thought he never had heard merrier music.

It was when they had left the country town behind and caught the first glimpse of the sea that their cries of delight charmed him.

"See the sails! The sails way out there against the sky!" cried Rose.

"And the big gulls!" cried Polly. "See them fly way, way up high, and then down, down again to the waves."

It had been a long, sunny road, with seldom a turn, and only occasionally a glimpse of the sea, but suddenly the road curved, winding around behind a high bluff, and there, blue and glistening in the sunlight, lay the sea, the big blue sea!

"We're here at the shore!" cried Rose, "and oh, I've never been there before. I didn't know it was so lovely!"

"You're a real little sailor's lass, or rather, a sea-captain's lass, if you love the sea so well!" said Uncle John, well pleased with her excitement and delight.

He stopped that they might watch the incoming tide for a few moments, then off over the road they sped.

"Here we are!" he cried, when after a half hour's more ride, they turned in at the driveway of a fine shore villa.

"Welcome to 'The Cliffs'!" said Uncle John.

He lifted them down, and taking each by the hand, turned toward the broad piazza.

"Ah, Mrs. Wilton, you were looking for us!" he said, greeting the housekeeper, a stout, cheery looking woman, who took the suit cases and smiled, as if caring for two small girls were the one thing that delighted her.

"Yes, I was watching for you, and when you drove up to the house I said to myself:

"'Well, he's TWICE lucky, for he wanted Rose for a visitor, and he's found another child to bring with her!'"

She greeted the children cordially as they were introduced.

"Her name could be nothing but Atherton," she said, "why, sir, she looks like you enough to be your own child."

"She is my BORROWED little girl," Uncle John replied, "she's MINE while here."



CHAPTER VIII

AT THE SHORE

Three days had passed, and Uncle John Atherton had filled them full of pleasure.

They had bathed in the surf, they had taken long tramps along the beach when the tide was out, they had sailed in his yacht, "The Dolphin," they had been up at the great hotel, where a fine hop was enjoyed.

Was there any pleasure that he had not given them?

One morning he looked into the two bright little faces, as they sat at breakfast, and wondered what he would best choose for the day's chief event.

"I believe I'll ask you two little friends to choose your amusement for to-day. What shall we do first?" he asked.

"'The Dolphin!' A sail on 'The Dolphin!'" they cried without a moment's hesitation.

"Then get on those sailor frocks that you wore yesterday, and your big sailor hats, and we'll sail on the 'briny deep,' right after breakfast," was the quick reply.

He was well pleased, for they had chosen just that which he so loved to do.

They hurriedly finished their breakfast and ran up to their room to put on the pretty sailor suits that he had so admired.

"Rose!" called Uncle John.

"I'm almost ready," she answered.

"No hurry," he replied, "only when you, and Polly are ready, run right down to the boat. I've told Donald to take you for a row, and just as soon as I have finished some letters, I'll go with you for a sail."

"Oh, that will be fine!" cried Rose, "because while we are waiting for you we'll be on the water."

Uncle John returned to his letters, and soon Rose and Polly hurried down to the piazza and out onto the driveway.

It was a short run to the beach, where they found Donald, the little Scotch lad, waiting for them.

With a new knife he was whittling a bit of wood into the rude semblance of a boat.

He had intended to go fishing with another boy, and he was not pleased to be rowing two small girls, so much younger than himself; therefore he was sullen. True, he was well paid for rowing them, and he was glad of the money, but, ungrateful little lad that he was, he most unwillingly waited for Rose and Polly.

"I'd 'nough rather be fishing," he grumbled, but aloud he said:

"Come on!"

They followed him, clambered into the boat, and soon were out on the water, singing a pretty boating song that Uncle John had taught them:

"Floating, floating over the sea, Blithe of heart and gay are we. Riding lightly over the foam, O'er the sea 'tis joy to roam."

"I b'lieve I could row," said Rose.

"Huh! Girls can't do much," said Donald roughly.

"Girls CAN!" cried Polly, vexed that the boy should annoy Rose.

"Huh! Not MUCH!" he replied.

He was not in the least interested in their merry chatter. He felt sure that small girls were of no use.

He talked very loudly of lines, spars, windlass and davits. To be sure, he did not know one from the other, but then he knew that the little girls did not know, and he hoped to impress them.

"What ARE those things?" Polly asked, when he had been talking for some time, and constantly using names that they did not know.

"Oh, a man couldn't tell girls so they'd understand," said Donald, squaring his shoulders and trying to look as large as possible.

"A MAN!" cried Polly, and although neither had meant to do it, both laughed merrily.

Donald was angry, too angry to reply, but under his breath he muttered:

"Laugh if ye want ter, but I'll get even!"

It was in vain that Rose and Polly tried to talk with him.

He only glowered, and was too sullen to answer the questions that they asked, and for a time they were silent. Rose spoke first.

"Why are you rowing us back?" she cried. "We don't want to go back yet!"

"Got ter go back a minute," said the boy, "just for a arrant."

He rowed close to a short pile that was near the shore and in very shallow water. There was a huge iron ring attached to the pile, used for mooring small boats.

Donald, who had been watching the shore very closely, now, to hide his interest, bent all his energy in fastening the chain of the boat to the ring.

"There!" he said, "that's fast, an' you girls are safe if you sit still till I come back."

He sprang from the boat, and waded through the shallow water, then ran up on the beach, shouting:

"Jock! Jock! Wait a minute!"

"Donald! Don't stay long!" cried Rose, and Polly echoed her words, but Donald either did not, or would not hear!

They watched the two boys as they stood for a moment talking, then ran down the beach.

"I don't think he was very nice to go off and leave us here while he does errands," said Polly.

"He wasn't nice at all," said Rose, "and I'll tell Uncle John, if he gets here first."

"Is this chain VERY long?" Polly asked a moment later.

"I don't know," said Rose, looking over the side of the boat and down into the water.

"I don't see it," she said a moment later, "why did you ask that, Polly?"

"Oh, I was only wondering how far we could float before the chain would look tight. We've gone ever so far, and the boat doesn't tug at it yet!" Polly said.

"It will, though!" said Rose.

Still they floated, and for a time they were silent, contented to be out in the sunshine.

Then suddenly Rose looked up at Polly, quick terror in her eyes.

"Polly, Princess Polly!" she cried, "is there ANY chain on this boat?"

"Why of course!" said Polly, "didn't you see Donald fasten it to that big iron ring on the post?"

Rose leaned forward and looked into Polly's eyes.

"I saw him fasten ONE END of it, Polly, and so did you, but was the OTHER end fastened to this boat?'

"Why, yes, I—oh, Rose, you DON'T think we're—DRIFTING?" gasped Polly.

"You can't get up, and turn round," said Rose, "because Uncle John told us always to keep our seats in a boat, but can't you just twist round enough to see?"

With great care Polly turned, and saw just what she feared—the ring on the boat and NO CHAIN CONNECTED!

With a white little face Polly turned, and with parted lips looked at Rose.

"We ARE drifting—JUST DRIFTING!" she whispered hoarsely.

"Drifting!" cried Rose. "Oh, Polly, what SHALL we do?"

"Sit still," whispered Polly, "and wait—just WAIT!"

"What WILL Uncle John do? And where will he think we are?" said Rose.

"Oh, I don't know!" wailed Polly, "but I'm SURE we ought to do something. Just look how far we are from the shore, and we're going all the time!"

They looked in despair toward the beach. No one was in sight, and the dancing waves glistened in the sunlight, as if they laughed, feeling no pity for the two frightened children in the boat.

"Do you s'pose we could row?" questioned Polly.

"I don't know how," said Rose, "but it didn't look hard when Donald did it."

They reached for the oars, but found that neither was strong enough to lift one, and Rose's eyes filled with tears when she looked at Polly, while Polly's brave effort to cheer Rose with a smile failed, because her own lips were quivering.

"Let's sit down in the bottom of the boat, it seems safer," said Rose.

They slipped from their seats, and each clung to the other.

"If only Uncle John knew!" wailed Rose.

"If only he knew!" echoed Polly, with a sob.

Still the little boat rocked lightly on the waves, and now they no longer tried to hide their fear, but cried, because they could not help it.

Out on a high bluff a tall, square-shouldered man leveled a powerful glass and looked out across the waves.

Evidently he saw what he was looking for, and hastily slinging the leather strap that held the glass over his shoulder, he strode down to the shore.

Completely tired, the two children lay sobbing and clinging to each other, no longer looking toward the shore, because now they were too far out to clearly see it.

A white gull circled near them, and the whirring of its wings made Polly open her eyes.

"A great gull!" she whispered, then, oh, the joy in her cry:

"'The Dolphin!' 'The Dolphin!'"

Rose scrambled to her knees.

"Oh, it is! It is! DEAR Uncle John!" she cried.

It was a quick turn from terror in the little boat to joy and safety in the big yacht, with Uncle John, big, brave Uncle John, to care for them.

"You must tell me all about this," he said, when they were once aboard the yacht, "but not a word until after we've had a wee lunch."

The steward brought dainty sandwiches, cakes, fruit and hot chocolate, and the happy little trio enjoyed it heartily, partly because it was a delicious spread, but far more because of their feeling of safety after their terror.

The children had been frightened, but bright, cheery Uncle John had suffered more than he would have admitted when, through his powerful glass, he had seen the two little occupants of the rowboat crouching close together, rocked at the will of the waves and going steadily out to the open sea.

He knew that it would take but a short time to reach them, but would they remember what he had so often told them?

If they should change places in the boat and thus capsize it, no yacht could reach them in time to save them!

Now, with Polly and Rose beside him, safe and sound, he felt as if a heavy cloud had lifted.

After the lunch had been enjoyed, Uncle John asked for the story of their plight, and together they told it, telling of the start with Donald, of his sullenness, his anger, and his muttered threat.

"I don't know SURELY, TRULY, what he said, but I thought he said:

"'I'll get even with them,' and Polly thought so, too," concluded Rose.

"And after he'd said that, he wouldn't talk at all," said Polly.

"And we thought he'd fastened the boat when we saw him hitching one end of the chain to the big ring," said Rose, "and he waded out to the shore, and ran off up the beach with another boy."

"We shouted to him, and told him not to stay long, but he didn't answer, and didn't look back, but just kept on running until he met another boy, and then they ran away together," said Polly.

"The other boy had a fishing pole," added Rose.

"Oh, he did, did he?" said Uncle John, "well, I wouldn't be surprised if young Donald had a fishing outfit tucked snugly away in some cranny in the rocks, where he doubtless found it after he left you."

"What WOULD have happened to us if you hadn't found us?" said Rose.

Uncle John Atherton's brown eyes were not twinkling as he turned to reply, and Polly thought she saw a tear on his lashes.

His arm tightened about Rose, and he drew her closer.

"I don't like to think what MIGHT have happened to you two little friends, alone on the open sea. I shall settle with Donald later," he said.

"What will you do?" questioned Rose, looking up into his face with eager, yet anxious eyes.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned.

"I wouldn't think to ask if you were smiling," said Rose, "but you look so stern—oh, I don't care if you scold him some, but 'tho he was mean, and naughty, don't make him feel TOO bad."

"You've a loving heart," was the quick reply, "and like all the Athertons, you are generous."

"Generous?" said Rose, in quick surprise, "I didn't say give him anything. I only said: 'Don't make him feel TOO bad!'"

"My dear little girl, there are other ways of being generous beside bestowing gifts. It is VERY generous of you, when Donald has treated you so cruelly, to ask mercy for him. I'll remember your tender pleading in his behalf, but Donald must be made to know, and fully understand that what he did was far worse than merely naughty, it was wicked!

"And now, for the time, we'll talk no more about Donald. You and Polly are safe and sound, the little boat is floating just behind us, all the sky is blue and cloudless. We are bounding over the sparkling waves, without a thought or care.

"I am master of the Dolphin, and you and Polly are two lovely little sea fairies that I have invited aboard to keep me company."



CHAPTER IX

PRINCESS POLLY RETURNS

THE days spent at the shore sped as if on golden wings, and Uncle John declared that the sunlight seemed brighter while Rose remained under the red roof of "The Cliffs."

He had given his little guests every pleasure, he had bought them a beautiful collection of shells, and a tiny ship for each to sail in the brook at Sherwood Hall. Was there anything that he had not done for their happiness, their delight while with him at the shore?

Now the day for their departure had arrived, and his genial face looked strangely quiet, and he forgot to laugh and joke with them.

He watched Rose closely, and once, when she looked up at him, she thought his eyes looked grieved.

She laid her hand on his arm, and spoke the thought that was troubling her.

"You don't want me to go?" she questioned. "You wish I was not going back to Aunt Rose?"

Uncle John sat down in his great arm chair, and lifted Rose to his knee.

Looking into her brown eyes that were so like his own, he gazed for a moment, then he spoke, and his voice was very gentle.

"I wanted you to come to me for this little visit, but I did not dream how hard it would be to let you go. I shall miss you, I think you know that, little Rose."

"I do, oh, I do, and I don't want to go. I wouldn't EVER be ready to leave you Uncle John!" she cried.

Quickly two strong arms were around her, holding her fast, as he whispered:

"WHY, little girl? Tell me WHY?"

"Because you love me," sobbed Rose. "Aunt Judith took care of me because she HAD to, but she always said it was a nuisance, and now Aunt Rose and Aunt Lois are kind and good to me, and they like to have me with them, but they never—"

The soft little voice paused.

"They'd never think to hold me if I felt badly, and sometimes I'm so lonely. Other little girls have mamas to care for them, and big, tall papas who love them, and truly aunts, real GOOD aunts aren't the same."

"How about uncles? Are THEY worth while?" questioned Uncle John.

She lifted her head, and seeing the twinkle in his fine eyes, she smiled through her tears.

"I've only one uncle," she said, "but he's the best one in the world!"

"He's scheming now to find a way to be with you at least a part of each year," was the quick reply.

"Oh, WILL you, CAN you do that?" cried Rose.

"I think so," he said, "and I cannot now tell you just how I shall manage it, but I am quite sure that I can do it, and until I am ready to talk with your Aunt Rose regarding it, you must promise to keep it for a little secret, a pleasant thing to think of when days are a bit dull."

"Oh, I will, I will!" cried Rose. "I won't say a word about it, but I'll think of it every day!"

Her tears had vanished, and when Polly came running in she did not dream that Rose had been crying.

"Only think," said Polly, "I have to say 'Good-bye' twice to-day, for I'm to leave here, and then I'm to leave Rose's house to go back to Sherwood Hall!"

"And we both knew that this was the day that Polly was to go home, but last night she got a letter," said Rose, "and her mama says that she's glad she's having such a lovely time, but that Sherwood Hall is so lonely without her, she can't spare her any longer.

"I do think it must be dreadful there with Princess Polly away, but I wish I didn't have to give her up."

"Well, now, suppose we make the trip as cheerful as possible," said Uncle John. "You have your suit cases, your boxes of shells, your little boats and two hand bags. Really, I think the automobile will be far more comfortable than the cars."

"Oh, yes, yes!" they cried in delight.

"And I'll drive you over to Aunt Rose's house. I'll stay while we lunch with her, and later in the afternoon we'll take Polly to Sherwood Hall, where I shall take the opportunity to tell Mrs. Sherwood how greatly I have enjoyed her little daughter as my guest."

"Oh, what fun!" cried Polly, "and mama will see you. I told her you were ALMOST as handsome as papa!"

"Oh, spare my blushes!" said Uncle John, "but all the same, I thank you, little Princess Polly, for your good opinion of me. I trust that Rose, and I may borrow you again some day."



"And I'll love to be borrowed!" cried Polly, "for this has been a fine visit. Just think how much I have to tell when I am at home, and Lena and Rob and Leslie and Harry come up and ask:

"'Did you have a nice time Polly? Where did you go? What did you do while you were away,' and I'll hardly know where to begin, because there's so much to tell."

They ran down to the beach "Just to say 'Good-bye' to the waves," Rose said.

"Look!" she cried. "The waves never danced prettier."

It was with a light heart that Rose let Uncle John help her into the automobile beside Polly. She was to have two long rides with him, and, oh, the secret that she had promised loyally to keep!

"He will fix it so he can be with me PART of the time, SOME of the time!" sang her happy little heart, and her eyes brightened and her cheeks grew pinker with the thought.

She laughed and chattered with Polly all the way, and the long ride seemed all too short, for before she dreamed that they were near the old Atherton house, they turned in at the driveway, and Nora, who had seen them coming, stood smiling a welcome from the doorway.

They made a happy party at lunch, and Aunt Rose was so evidently glad that Rose had returned that the little girl felt almost guilty when she thought of the secret that Uncle John had given her to keep.

"It isn't that I don't want to stay here; I mean it isn't JUST that. It's that I can stay here, and be happier because I have Uncle John now, and he loves me, and, oh, he's planning, just simply planning to—"

Just as she reached that point Uncle John commenced to tell a very funny story, and in the laughter that greeted it she, for the moment, forgot the secret.

Uncle John said nothing of his plan to Aunt Rose. Indeed, he was not quite ready to do that. He knew Aunt Rose Jerusha Atherton too well to tell a part of any plan to her. He knew that she wished her little namesake to be always with her, and he wisely intended to say nothing of his wish regarding Rose until his scheme was complete.

"Then," thought Uncle John, "I'll have my way. I usually do!" and he smiled as if the thought amused him.

Rose felt that the house seemed less gloomy than she had thought, but she knew that it was Uncle John and Princess Polly who helped to make it cheery.

And when, in the afternoon, they were once more speeding over the shady roads toward Sherwood Hall, it seemed as if every day since she had first met Uncle John had been a holiday.

It was Polly who interrupted her dreaming.

"Why, Rose Atherton!" she said, "I said 'Good-bye' to your two Aunts and to Nora and to Lester Jenks, but I never thought to say it to Evangeline! I didn't want to talk to her, but I did mean just to say 'Good-bye.'"

"Well, I guess you needn't mind," said Rose. "It may be you'd OUGHT to have said it, but she never'd let you go without writing an old poem, and p'raps it would have been a long one."

"Oh, dear," said Polly, "I'm ALMOST glad I forgot!"

It was a cordial welcome that awaited them at Sherwood Hall. Mrs. Sherwood could not wait until Polly should be beside her, but stood upon the broad piazza, watching until the big automobile appeared around the bend of the road.

"Ah, there they come!" she cried, "my own little Princess Polly is coming back to Sherwood Hall."

Up the broad driveway it came, and the moment it stopped Polly sprang out and into the arms that opened wide to receive her.

"Oh, it's lovely to be with Rose, and I've had a fine time, so why IS it so sweet to come home ?" she cried.

"We who have loving hearts can easily understand," said Mrs. Sherwood, "and Mr. Atherton doubtless remembers of days when, as a boy, he went on vacation trips that he enjoyed with all the ardent spirit of youth, yet when the day came for returning, his heart beat faster. Home, after all, seemed the dearest place!"

"That is exactly as I remember it, but there's one thing that you did not mention, and that was the tears that I had to hide," said Uncle John.

"I started on my camping trips with high spirits, yet a bit of regret at leaving home caused my eyes to fill. I could not let the other boys see the tears for fear of being laughed at, so I made all sorts of excuses for the moisture by talking of dust and cinders; that, however, never deceived my comrades for a moment. Therefore, they dubbed me 'Softy,' a name that I detested."

The sound of a firm tread on the gravel walk caused them to turn as Arthur Sherwood came to greet his guest, and to welcome his little daughter, Polly.

The older members of the party seated themselves on the broad piazza, and while they were pleasantly chatting, Polly and Rose found their little boats that Uncle John had purchased for them, and away they ran to the brook to try them.

"Mine has rubies and emeralds for cargo," said Rose, "and a few, just a FEW necklaces. What has yours, Polly?"

"Mine has diamonds and sapphires," said Polly, "and there are bracelets and bangles in the hold."

"Oh, see their sails!" cried Rose, "how fine, they look just like real ships, that have truly cargoes."

"And see them in the water!" said Polly. "The real boats floating, and the shadow boats down, down in the water. Which are finest, the TRULY boats or the shadow boats?"

"The truly boats are dearest, because Uncle John gave them to us, and they are real, but the shadow boats are beautiful and they look like fairy ships," said Rose.

"Push yours out into the brook away from the shore," said Polly, "and I'll lash the water with this switch."

"All right," said Rose, and she gave the tiny craft a gentle push.

Polly struck the water sharply with her switch.

"Look! Look!" she cried, "See the boats rocking on the waves! See the bubbles! Don't it look almost like foam?"

The boats rocked, and danced on the little waves that were only ripples on the surface, and Polly was about to use the switch harder in an attempt to make a hurricane when they heard Uncle John calling:

"Rose! Rose!"

"Oh, he's calling me," cried Rose, and lifting the little boats from the water they ran back to the driveway.

A few weeks earlier Rose would have found it hard to leave Polly, and she did regret it, but the fact that Uncle John would be with her on the way back to Aunt Rose made it easier.

Then there was his promise, that only he and her own little self knew about!

And later she was to visit Polly! Oh, these were pleasant things to think of!

The "Good-byes" were said, Mrs. Sherwood had urged Rose to come a little later to visit Polly, Uncle John had agreed to call whenever Rose was at Sherwood Hall, Mr. Sherwood had promised to drive over to call upon the master of "The Cliffs" and enjoy a sail on the Dolphin, and Rose, as they drove away, spoke the thought that told of her happiness.

"I feel as if they were my own relatives," she said, "and oh, Uncle John, isn't it different from the way it was when I lived here with Aunt Judith. Then I felt so very poor, because I had only one person that was really my own and SHE didn't,—need a little girl. Now I have Aunt Rose and Aunt Lois and you, and you ALL want me."

"We need you, dear little Rose, and especially do I need you."

"And you said perhaps, just PERHAPS, you could—" She paused.

"I said I should try to arrange things so that I could be with you a part of each year.

"I think I can manage it, little Rose, if you say nothing about it until I tell you that you may."

"I'll keep it," said Rose, "you'll see how I'll keep it!"

On the way down the avenue they stopped at Aunt Judith's cottage.

Repeated raps at the door brought no response, however, and just as they turned to go, Gyp, the ever present Gyp, howled a bit of news from his perch on the roof of the hen coop.

"Say! 'Taint no use ter pound on that 'ere door. She ain't to home, 'cause she's somewhere else! I seen her go out. She had a basket on her head, an' a bunnit on her arm! No, a bunnit on her, oh—pshaw! I do'no' how ter say it! Heigh-o-dingerty-dingty-dum!"

He had done the usual thing. Whenever embarrassed Gyp took to the woods.

Uncle John looked after the flying figure, and laughed when Gyp paused in the middle of the field to turn a somersault before disappearing in the woods.



CHAPTER X

GWEN CALLS UPON POLLY

Polly's return was hailed with delight, and it seemed as if every child in the neighborhood turned its steps to ward Sherwood Hall to greet her, and to hear all about her visit.

Lena Lindsey, with her brother Rob, Leslie Grafton, and Harry, Vivian Osborne, and, indeed, all of her little friends and playmates hastened to see her, to hear from Rose, and to tell all of the small neighborhood happenings that had occurred while she had been away.

"I've three white rabbits," said Rob, "and I want to show them to you, Polly."

"And mama has bought the dearest angora kitten for me. I wish you'd come down soon and see it," urged Leslie; "it's just a baby cat and you can't help loving her, she's so cunning."

"I haven't anything new to show you," said Vivian, laughing merrily. "I mean I've nothing of my own, but there's SOMETHING I'll show you, and I guess it's different from anything you ever saw!"

"Why, Vivian Osborne! What ARE you going to show Polly?" Harry Grafton asked.

Vivian's eyes were dancing as she whispered something in Harry's ear.

"Oh, THAT'S it, is it? Well, I guess Polly WILL look when you show it to her!"

"You just tell me this minute!" said Polly. "I'm wild to know what IT is!"

"IT," said Vivian, "is a girl, a very pretty little girl!"

"Then why is she a sight to see, and why DO you laugh?" Polly asked, completely puzzled.

"She LOOKS well enough," Vivian replied, "but she ACTS like—"

"The old SCRATCH!" said Rob.

"Oh, Rob!" cried Lena, "Mama told you not to say that!"

"I know it," Rob admitted, "but I couldn't think of any other name that would give Princess Polly an idea what she was like."

"But who is she? Where is she?" questioned Polly.

"Oh, she lives in the next house to us," said Vivian. "Her papa has bought that fine large house that has the big lawn, and the lovely garden at the back. She's very, VERY pretty, and if she didn't ACT so—"

"HOW does she act?" said Polly. "I tell you all truly, I'm wild to see her!"

"Rob told you how she acted," said Harry, with a laugh, "and old Scratch isn't half bad 'nough. Say! She wanted to have a wedding for her best doll the other day, and she cut a lace curtain off a yard from the floor to make a wedding veil for it!"

"'Twas a parlor curtain and I guess her mama didn't think that was cunning," said Lena.

"She tells lies—"

"Oh, Harry!" interrupted Leslie, "you mustn't."

"Well, she DOES, and they're too big to be called fibs," Harry said, stoutly.

"And the queerest thing is that Inez Varney plays with her all the time, and she doesn't ever play with any of us now. She hasn't been to my house since that new little girl came here to live," said Leslie.

"And Leslie don't care," declared Harry, "because Inez was getting queerer and queerer, and she wasn't the pleasantest playmate, but now she's so gay you'd hardly think she was Inez Varney."

Polly was greatly interested.

"What's the new little girl's name?" she asked.

"Gwen Harcourt, and mama says that Mrs. Harcourt is lovely, and I must be kind to Gwen," said Lena, "and it would be hard, only I don't often see her. She's always with Inez."

Polly had been away but two weeks. She had gone to visit Rose Atherton, intending to remain but a single week. Then when she was at "The Cliffs" she had written for permission to stay "just a little longer," and Mrs. Sherwood had extended the time an extra week.

During that time the house next to the Osborne's had been purchased, the family had moved in and the little daughter of the family had become very intimate with Inez, her near neighbor.

A short time surely for so much to have been accomplished.

Perhaps the "new little girl," as the other children called her, found it easier to capture Inez, and hold her for her BEST friend, because Inez was very eager for a little "chum."

She had hoped to be chosen by Princess Polly, to take the place of Rose. Disappointed, and angry because Polly Sherwood did not prefer her, she would not try to choose a mate from her other playmates. Instead, she gave all of her time to the "new little girl," and never were two small girls more intimate.

A few days after Polly's return she was sitting on the stone wall near the entrance to the driveway.

A bright hued Japanese parasol kept the sun from her head and shoulders, and she sang a cheery melody, hitting her little heels against the wall to mark the time.

"Sunshine and showers, Bees in the flowers, Blue sky and floating clouds, Soft Summer air; Bright yellow butterfly, His gauzy wings to try, Floats like the thistledown, Without a care.

"Now, to the velvet rose, Off and away he goes, Far from all other blooms Roving so free; Flighty, and light of heart, Having of care no part, Gay yellow butterfly, Happy is he."

Inez Varney, with her new playmate, ran along the avenue. Inez was the only one of Polly's friends who had not been up to see her since her visit to Rose.

Now, in great haste, she clasped the hand of her little friend and ran to where Polly was sitting.

"This is Gwen Harcourt," said Inez, "and Gwen, this is Polly Sherwood, that all the children call 'Princess Polly.'"

"I won't!" said little Miss Harcourt, stoutly.

"You NEEDN'T," said Polly, coolly.

The new little girl was surprised. She had believed that Polly would be very angry. Indeed, she was quite disappointed that Polly seemed not in the least to care.

"Is that your house up there between the trees?" she asked.

"Yes," said Polly, but she did not say: "'Will you come in?'"

That did not trouble Gwen, however. She needed no invitation. She could invite herself, and she did.

"I'm coming over to see you some day," she said.

Inez giggled. She thought her new friend's pertness very smart.

"You don't say you'll be glad to see me, but I'm coming just the same," said Gwen; "and p'raps I'll come to-morrow, and p'raps it'll be next week, but I'm truly coming."

Polly felt that she had never seen a prettier child, nor could she think of another as rude as Gwen Harcourt.

She was always kind and polite, but what could she say to this rude little girl that would be courteous and at the same time truthful?

"I can't tell her I'll be glad to have her come, for I just KNOW I don't want her. She's very pretty, but, someway, I'm sure I'd be happier without her," thought Polly.

Gwen Harcourt, vexed that Polly Sherwood had not been at all excited at the thought of receiving a call from her little self, turned toward Inez. "Come," she said, "let's go out in the sunshine and have a run. It's awful dull here!"

"I guess we'll be going," said Inez. "Gwen is so very gay that most places seem dull to her. Come!"

She held out her hand, Gwen grasped it, and together they ran down the avenue.

They did not even say "Good-bye," but raced off as if every moment spent with Polly were too dull to be endured.

"I said I shouldn't call her 'Princess Polly' and I shan't," said Gwen, to which Inez replied:

"Well, you don't HAVE to, and I guess she didn't care much."

Polly, looking after them, spoke softly to herself.

"What pretty eyes she had, and her hair was fine, too." Then, after a moment's hesitation, she spoke again.

"She was lovely to look at, but she wasn't very polite.

"She said she was coming over here some day, but I do hope that she won't hurry about it. I'm sure I don't need her as much as Inez does. I don't mind how long it is before I see Gwen Harcourt!"

Gwen Harcourt had a most unlovely disposition and no one could guess what she at any time might do. If Princess Polly had urged her to come very soon to Sherwood Hall she would have waited a week at least before appearing there.

As she had received no urging, she decided to go on the following day.

Very early the next morning Polly sat in a big chair in the library, reading her favorite fairy book. A slight sound caused her to look up from the page.

"Why, there she is!" she whispered.

There, indeed, was Gwen Harcourt, perched upon the fence that enclosed the piazza. She was looking straight in at the window, her bold little eyes noting every object in the room.

"Come out! Come out!" she cried, beckoning so frantically that she nearly lost her balance.

Polly was annoyed. She was in the midst of an enchanting tale, and she so wished to finish reading it. Truly, she was not glad to see Gwen Harcourt.

She never treated anyone rudely, however, so she closed her book and went out to greet her early visitor.

"I guess you'd think I wanted to come up here if you knew HOW I came," said Gwen.

"How did you come?" Polly asked, not because she cared but in order to say SOMETHING. She could not say that she was glad to see her.

"Through the window and over our hedge," said Gwen. "Mama said that as I'd been horrid at the breakfast table I must stay in all the forenoon. I didn't think that was fair, because I wasn't VERY horrid. I put my foot on the table so I could tie my shoe ribbons. Papa said, 'Gwendolen!' and I took it down quick. Then I took some peanut shells from my pocket and sailed them in my cup of chocolate. They looked like little boats. My piece of melon had the stem on it and I said it was a music box. I wound the stem round and round, and sung 'Yankee Doodle.' Mama made the waitress take me away from the table and I just howled all the way! I don't think I need have stayed in for such little things as that! I DIDN'T stay in. I jumped out of the window, it's near the ground, and then, because it was the shortest way, I scrambled right over the hedge. Horrid old thing! It had thorns on it, and it scratched my knee."

Polly thought her a handsome little savage.

Gwen thought that she had made an impression upon Polly.

"There was just one reason why I acted so. Mama had guests, and she had just been telling them what a good child I was, and I thought it would be a joke to do some queer things at the table.

"I thought because she had company she wouldn't send me away, but she did," she concluded.

Her next remark was even more surprising than those that she had already made.

"Let's catch bugs!" she said.

"Oh, horrid!" cried Polly, "I couldn't do that!"

"I do," said Gwen, "and it's fun. I caught two big old beetles and tied threads on them for harnesses. Then I hitched them to a wee little paper box about an inch long and they made a good span. They dragged it all right 'til I dumped an old fuzzy caterpillar into the box, and then they tumbled over on their backs and squirmed and kicked like everything! If I could find one now I could show you how they kick."

"Oh, please don't," said Polly quickly, "I wouldn't like to see them wiggle."

"Then let's slide down your front steps," said Gwen. "Come on! Slide the way I do. I sit down on the top step and commence to slip. When I've slid over three steps I turn over and slide three that way. I get excited wondering whether I'll tear my frock, or only bump my knees. Sometimes it's both, and sometimes it's neither!"

Polly could not imagine why such antics could be amusing, and she knew that her mama would not like any such rough play.

"You don't seem to want to," said Gwen; "are you afraid of your clothes, or don't you dare to risk the bumps?"

"I don't think mama would like it," Polly said, gently, "but I'll play 'Hide-and-Seek' with you, or any game you like."

"Oh, I don't care for those old games," said Gwen, "so I'll tell you what we'll do. Come over to the stable and you get your coachman to let us have the horse and the cow. You ride the horse barebacked and I'll ride the cow. Come on! Don't be a fraidie cat!"

"Oh, dear," said Polly, "I know you won't like it, but I don't want to do that."

She saw Gwen's eyes snap, and knew that she was angry.

"I'll get my boat, and I'll let you sail it if you'd like to, in the brook," she said.

She did not enjoy her little guest, but she wished to be kind.

"I WOULDN'T like to," Gwen said, rudely, "sailing boats isn't lively. I guess as long as you don't want to play any jolly things I'll go home. I meant to shingle the cat's fur this morning, and I'll do that. I'm going to wet it sopping wet, part it in the middle from his head to his tail, and then shingle it all but his tail!"



CHAPTER XI

GWEN TELLS A STORY

Of course, Gwen told Inez that she had been up to Sherwood Hall and that she thought it very dull.

"I wouldn't care to have such a big, BIG house," she said, "'n I wouldn't want such a big garden."

It was a silly speech to make, because it was not true, and no one could believe it.

Her own house was fine, but no dwelling in the town could compare with grand, stately Sherwood Hall, and Gwen Harcourt knew that.

"Polly wouldn't play anything, so I came home," she said.

"Why, that's odd," said Inez, "she's always willing to play games."

"Oh, well, she wanted to play 'Hide-and-Seek' and that's too stupid. Let's play 'Tag' and see how hard we can run. You can make ever so much noise if you stamp your feet when you run on the asphalt. Le' me count!"

Inez did not dare to object.

"Eena, mena, mina, moot, Le'me catch you by the foot; Fill your eyes and mouth with soot, Pull a tree up by the root.

"Hit you with a speckled trout, Pull your hair to make it sprout; Though you grumble, also pout, One, two, three, and you are out."

"There!" said Gwen, "now you're it, so we'll begin to play."

"Why, how can I be 'it' when you said I was 'out?'" questioned Inez.

"'Cause I SAY so, that's all," said Gwen, coolly, and Inez dared not say a word. She knew if she did that Gwen would be provoked and would probably go home.

She was a little tyrant and anyone who wish to play with her must do as she said if she cared for peace.

"Run, now!" she cried. "Run! But you can't catch me!"

Truly, she was fleet footed.

Up the long driveway, around the house, past old Towser's kennel, pausing just long enough to kick it in order that he might growl, up the front steps and along the piazza, over its railing, across a bed of choice flowering plants, breaking some, and crushing many, around the summer house and through the grape arbor, shouting like a little wild Indian, she ran, and Inez could not get near enough to touch her.

"You're slow!" cried Gwen, "slower than an old cow! You can't run like anything, so we might as well sit down!"

In truth, she was tired but she would not say so. It pleased her far better to find fault with Inez.

"When YOU get rested," she said, "we might climb up onto your barn and crawl into the cupola."

"Ye'll not be doin' that, young lady," said the gardener, who, as he was passing, had heard what she had said. "It's not safe, an' I know Mr. Varney'd not allow it."

"Horrid old thing!" said Gwen. "Who do you mean?" Inez asked, sharply.

"The gardener, of course," snapped Gwen.

"I guess I'll go home," she said, a moment later, and although Inez coaxed her, she would not remain nor would she say why she had decided to go.

Whenever she wearied of a place she left it, refusing to remain or explain why she would not stay. Inez looked after the little flying figure.

"I hate to have her go, but I couldn't run every minute," she said.

One sunny afternoon, Lena and Rob, Leslie and Harry were sitting on the lawn, listening to Polly's story of floating in a little boat out to the open sea. Of how she and Rose did not dream how naughty the boy, Donald, had been until they were so far out that they could hardly see the beach.

The boys thought it very exciting, and this was not the first time that they had heard it. Indeed, they had often asked her to tell it, and each time they had found it as interesting as when they first had listened to it.

"Now tell us about the first moment that you saw the Dolphin," said Rob.

Gwen Harcourt, seeing the group on the lawn, wondered what they were talking about.

There was but one way to find out, and she chose to take it. She ran up the path that led to where the little group was sitting and dropped on the grass beside Harry Grafton.

She listened to the story, but she did not think it at all amusing.

Anyone who knew Gwen would know that it could not interest her. She cared for no story of which she was not the heroine.

When the tale was finished and the playmates were telling Polly how fine a story it was, Gwen, speaking very loudly, made herself heard; she usually did.

"Everybody listen while I tell a story that'll scare you 'till you most can't breathe. It's a true story, too!"

"Go ahead, Gwen," said Rob.

"Yes, tell it!" said Harry. "I don't mind being scared if you can do it!"

She needed no urging.

"One time when I was little—-" she commenced, but Harry interrupted.

"When was that?" he asked.

"Stop, Harry!" whispered Leslie.

"One time, when I was LITTLER than I am now, I went into our parlor all alone when it was almost dark, and looked at the pictures. Mama has ever so many, and some of them are landscapes and some of them are portraits.

"The one I liked to look at scared me every time I saw it. It was a big, tall lady dressed in yellow and she had a feather fan.

"When I saw her in the bright daylight I thought she moved SOME, but whenever I looked at her when it was almost dark she seemed to move MORE!"

Gwen paused to see if the other children were impressed, and looked up just in time to see Rob Lindsey "nudge" his sister. Her eyes flashed.

"Well, p'raps you don't believe it, Rob Lindsey, but I SAW it, and I guess I know!" she said.

"Go on, Gwen," said Rob, who was a great tease, "I only touched Lena's arm to let her know the 'scare' part of the yarn was coming."

Thus reassured, Gwen continued her story.

"Well, this time I'm telling 'bout, the lady in the yellow gown looked at me, and—WAVED her fan!"

"Hot day?" questioned Rob, but Gwen chose not to notice what he said.

"She waved her big feather fan slower and slower, and then—she walked RIGHT OUT OF THE PICTURE and came down on the floor!"

"Oh—o!" said Princess Polly, and "Oh—oo—oo!" said Lena, but Rob asked a question.

"Did your fine lady come down on the floor in a heap?"

"Did she BUST her feather fan?" questioned Harry Grafton.

"You're not nice to laugh when I'm telling a story," said Gwen, "and I guess you wouldn't have laughed if you'd BEEN there!"

"Why, what happened?" Lena asked, partly because she was curious and partly to be kind.

"I'll never know just what did truly happen, because just as she came toward me, I was so scared I fainted, and when I came to, the lady had vanished, but the big hole in the canvas showed JUST WHERE SHE'D STOOD!"

"Why Gwen Harcourt! You know that story's a fib story all the way through!" said Harry.

"'Tis NOT!" said Gwen, "and I guess I know!"

She sprang from the grass, and ran down the driveway.

"I guess when you see the big frame, and the picture with a big hole in it just the shape of the lady, that showed where she WAS, I guess you'll HAVE to b'lieve it," she said, and having said this to the boys that had teased her, she hurried down the avenue.

"Oh, what an awful story!" said Polly, "it made me feel like shivering, and I was glad the boys were with us."

"If Gwen Harcourt likes to tell such stories, she can," said Leslie, "but she needn't say they're true."

"Oh, but perhaps SOME of it—-" Polly stopped. She had meant to speak kindly, but what part of so silly a story could be true?

"You've been in her parlor, Leslie," said Harry, "did YOU see the picture with the big hole in it, just where the fine lady stepped out from the frame? Leslie, HAVE you?"

"Yes," admitted Leslie, "I've been there."

"WAS the big picture with the big hole in it hanging there?" he asked.

"N—NO!" said Leslie, "and I'll tell you all something. A lady that mama knows heard some of Gwen's stories, and she told Mrs. Harcourt what perfectly awful things Gwen was telling, and Mrs. Harcourt said that she was very glad, and thankful that Gwen had such great imagination, and said she wouldn't, for the world do anything to check it, because it's a SURE sign she'll be something fine some day.

"Mrs. Harcourt said it was just wonderful what a strong imagination Gwen had, and she said she thought she would be either an author, or a play writer, or something great."

"And papa, when he heard that, said he'd want to be careful lest she grow up to be an awful liar!" said Harry.

"Oh, hush!" said Leslie, "papa said falsifier or some name like that."

"Well, that's the same thing," said Harry.

The little friends talked of Gwen, and the stories that she told.

The boys thought them ridiculous, and laughed at the idea that she expected her playmates to believe them, but neither Polly, Lena, nor Leslie could see it that way.

"I wouldn't mind the stories," Polly said, "because anyone can make up stories just for fun, but I do hate to have her say they're TRUE."

"And she sticks to it," said Harry.

"That's it," said Lena, "she says they're true, and she dared us to come down to her house, and see the picture!"

Gwen was safe in daring them, for not one of the little friends liked her well enough to go to her home, none save Inez, and Inez had not heard the story about the picture.

One sunny morning Polly ran along the avenue to overtake Lena Lindsey.

"Lena! Lena!" she cried, "wait for me! I've a letter from Rose," she said, as she walked along with Lena.

"Which way are you going?" Lena asked, "I want to hear what she says."

"I wasn't going anywhere 'til I saw you," said Polly.

"Then come along the path through the grove," said Lena, "and we'll stop on the bridge, and enjoy the letter there."

They ran along the path together, the sunbeams making Jack-o-lanterns at their feet. Light branches swayed in the wind, and through the dancing leaves the sunlight sifted, making Lena's hair a brighter brown, and Polly's flaxen ringlets like pale gold.

They reached the little bridge, and paused to watch the clear, rippling brook, as it ran beneath it, and out through the tiny grove.

Humming a melody all its own, it made its zigzag way between birches, and alders, maples, and elderblow, carrying on its shining surface stray leaves, and water spiders that struggled to see which first should reach the sunlit meadow land beyond.

"Now, read the letter," said Lena, "and does she say when she's coming here?"

"Oh, you hark, while I read," said Polly, taking from its envelope, the letter that she had, already, read three times.

Lena listened with delight. It would be an event to have little Rose Atherton come to Avondale! She told of Uncle John's frequent visits, and of long drives enjoyed with him.

"And here's something that made me laugh," said Polly.

"I told you about Evangeline Longfellow Jenks," she continued, "and she's written some more verses, and Rose copied this one. Just listen while I read it."

Polly took a slip of paper from the envelope, and read this absurd verse that was written upon it:



"I'm to be a poet when I get big, And I'll write a book that's bigger'n me. My poems I make now are to practice on, But when I'm big they'll be fine to see."

"Does she think THAT'S poetry?" said Lena, laughing because the verse was so absurd that she could not help it.

"If you think that one is funny, just listen to this," said Polly, turning the slip over, and reading from the other side.

"The sea is wet, and so is the brook; The earth swings round and round. The cat's asleep, and so are my feet, So I'll write no more till anon."

"Why, what DOES she mean?" said Lena, when she could stop laughing long enough to ask.

"I don't know," said Polly, laughing as heartily as Lena did, "and the funny thing is that Evangeline says anyone could write poetry that folks understand. She says it's just TWICE as bright to make verses that NOBODY could understand!

"I wouldn't want to have to play with her, and Rose says she runs away whenever she sees Evangeline coming," said Polly.

"I should think she would run," said Lena, "I would."

After the sweet little letter had been read, and Lena had asked for a second reading, Polly put it back into its envelope, and they talked of what Rose had written.

"Only think," said Polly, "her Aunt Rose doesn't wish her to be away from the house to go to school, so she's to have a private tutor at home, a music teacher, and a dancing teacher, and they're all to come to her house. She won't be in school with other little girls at all."

"I wouldn't like that," said Lena, "we have fine times together when school commences, and I don't believe I'd like teachers that came to my house. Well, I don't mean I wouldn't like the teachers, but I think it's more fun to go to school."

"I don't see how she's ever to get acquainted with other little girls," said Polly, "I think it sounds very lonesome!"

"So do I," said Lena, "but perhaps she doesn't. We'll know when she comes to your house, because I'm most sure she'll tell us."

"And we'll go to school the third week of next month," said Polly, "and Rose isn't to begin her lessons until two weeks later than that. She's coming to stay with me and spend the two weeks. Oh, won't we have fun?"

"Fun?" said Lena, "we'll do every fine thing we can think of. I'll tell Rob, and he'll help us make it jolly. He always does, and he likes Rose as well as we do."

"And who's Lester Jenks?" Lena asked, "is he the poetry girl's brother?"

"Oh, no, he's her cousin, and he's full of fun, and fine to play with," said Polly, "and he thinks Evangeline is pokey, and he laughs at her poetry. I didn't laugh at it, and I don't think he was nice to. I told him so, and he only laughed harder."

"He told Rose to tell me that he's going to send me a Valentine this year, and he says he's found a new place to get ice cream just a little way from where Rose lives. He says when I'm at her house the next time, he'll buy ice cream almost every day."

"Isn't he generous? And he says: 'Tell Princess Polly to hurry up and come,' and Rose says she can hardly wait 'til she sees me."

"Oh, Polly!" cried Lena, as a happy thought occurred to her, "if she's to be here when school has commenced, you can bring her to school. Teacher'll let us have guests.

"I'm glad you read the letter to me, because it makes it seem as if Rose was right here."

"And almost before you know it, she WILL be!" cried Polly, with a gay little laugh.

"I'll have to run along now," said Lena, "because Rob gave me this note to take to Harry Grafton, and I said I'd rush over there to give it to him. I forgot all about it when I stopped to hear Rose's letter. I guess I'd have stopped just the same, if I'd remembered Rob's note!" she said, and her brown eyes twinkled, as she looked over her shoulder on her way down the path.



CHAPTER XII

GYP RUNS AWAY

Polly stood on the little bridge and watched Lena until, at the opening between the trees, she turned and waved her hand, and then ran out upon the road.

"I'll find Sir Mortimer, and tell him Rose is coming to see us soon," she said.

She ran along the path, out onto the avenue, then up the broad driveway of Sherwood Hall.

As she passed the holly-hocks, she saw the big cat lying in front of them, basking in the sun.

"Oh, Mortimer darling, you'll tan in that hot sun," she said, "but she sat down beside him, as if the sun would have no effect upon her.

"See this letter?" she said, as she showed him the little envelope. Of course, Sir Mortimer promptly smelt of it.

"Oh, you don't need to see it so CLOSE, dear," said Polly, "you can surely look at it without putting your nose on it."

He stretched out his soft paw, and caught at the envelope, as if to play with it.

"Now, Mortimer, 't isn't any use for you to take the letter, because you know, dear, you couldn't read it, but I'll tell you the best thing in it, if you'll listen."

The big cat stared at her and blinked.

"Rose is coming to see us, and Mortimer, when I say US, that means you and me. Of course she wants to see her Aunt Judith, and everyone in this town, but MOST she really wants to see us, that TRULY is you and me. Aren't you glad?"

He arched his neck, and rubbed against her, purring as if to show his delight with the news she had told him.

Polly took him in her arms, and carrying him to the hammock, seated herself, and began to swing very gently.

At another time, Sir Mortimer might have objected, but just now he was rather drowsy, and instead of jumping from the hammock, he curled up in Polly's lap, and seemed to be preparing for a nap.

"I love little pussy," sang Princess Polly, gently patting his handsome head.

"Look at her, now," said the cook, peeping from the kitchen window, and pointing at Polly, "ain't she the dearest child in the world?"

"Ye've no need ter ask," said the big butler, "fer ye know my answer. Our little Miss Princess Polly is the finest child I ever saw."

"And did ye mind that wild little heathen that came up here the other day, a prancin' all over the place, here one minute, an' there another? Sure, I expected ter see her shin up the side of the stable, an' then jump from the ridge-pole. She'd make nothin' of that!" said the maid.

"I think it must be that little Harcourt monkey," said the butler, "and I'm told her ma likes her wild pranks. What is it she calls 'em? Oh, yes, I remember. She says as how her darling is very VERVASHUS! What that means I do'no, but one thing I'm SURE of. If her youngster is THAT, our Miss Polly just AIN'T!"

And while Polly petted big Sir Mortimer, she thought of the dear letter, and softly whispered to her pet:

"Lena is just as glad that Rose is coming as you, and I are, and she said Rob would be glad, too."

There were other little people beside Polly and Lena who were thinking of the first days of school, and of them all, not one was more interested than wee Dollie Burton.

Indeed, she was both interested, and grieved. Interested to hear all that her sister, Blanche, and the other children had to say, and grieved because she could not understand why she could not at once begin to be a little school girl.

In vain was she told that she was far too small to think of going to school. She insisted that she was not so VERY little, and that she so wished to go.

"Blanche did not go to school until she was much larger than you, dear," her mother had said, "and I think it would be far better for you to stay at home this Winter. You can play school at home, and you can be the teacher, and your two little kittens, and your dolls can be your pupils."

"But I could play it nicer if I had been to school just a little while," said Dollie, "'cause then I'd know just how."

The rustic bridge upon which Polly and Lena had stood spanned the brook that ran through the grove.

The grove was a wee bit of woodland so near to dwellings that it was quite safe for children to play there.

Dollie Burton was so very small, however, that she had always played in the lovely grounds that surrounded her home.

Whenever she had ventured farther, she had been with Blanche, but to-day she had left the garden, and for the first time in her little life she had run away!

It was something that Harry Grafton had said that had caused her to do it.

"Why, Dollie, you'd feel lost if you went to school," he had said, "'cause you've always played in your yard."

He had not meant it unkindly, but he had offended little Dollie.

"I WOULDN'T feel lost outside of our garden any more than you would, Harry Grafton, so now!" she had cried.

"Don't you mind, Dollie," the boy had answered, but Dollie DID mind very much.

She had no thought as to where she was going when she ran from the garden, and it was only chance that led her to the grove.

She ran to the bridge and stood watching the rippling brook, as it rushed beneath it.

Softly she crooned a little tune, for wee Dollie was never long unhappy. She had almost forgotten how vexed she had been, and she laughed as she saw small bubbles sailing, sailing away to the meadow. Softly she hummed, and then little words, describing what she saw, fitted quaintly into the droll melody—

"See the pretty bubbles, bubbles, Riding on the little brook; See the spiders try to catch them, And old Mr. Toady Frog sings 'Po-dunk!' and jumps down deep. Oh, green old Mr. Toady Frog—

There's Blanche's teacher! I'll ask her, and p'raps she'll say 'yes.'"

A slender young woman with a gentle, smiling face, came along the path, and stepped upon the bridge.

She wondered who the tiny girl might be, until Dollie turned, and gave her a sunny smile.

"Oh, I wanted to see you this very minute!" cried Dollie; "I want you to tell mama I'm big 'nough to go to school. Will you, please, Miss Sterling. I'll LOVE you, if you will!"

The young girl was tempted to laugh, until she saw the red lips quiver. Then she knew how much her answer meant to the little girl, and kneeling beside Dollie, she put her arm around her, drawing her close.

"Dear, can't you love me, whatever I say?" she asked.

"Yes," said Dollie, "because you're so handsome."

"Oh, you are truly an artful baby," the young teacher said, with a laugh.

"But WILL you?" urged Dollie, "I do know SOMETHING. I can spell 'c-a-t, cat,' and I know that isn't kitten, and I can spell 'b-e, be,' and that isn't the bumble kind, so can I come to school?"

"Dollie, dear, you couldn't be in my class if you started this year, so I cannot give you permission. You would begin your schooldays in Miss Primson's room," was the reply.

"Why, she's the cross-looking teacher, with black eyes that look like this!"

Dollie touched the fore-finger of each hand with its thumb, thus making rings through which she peeped, in imitation of spectacles, and frowned as darkly as her baby face would permit.

Miss Sterling knew that she should not laugh at the grimace, but it was so very funny that she could not help it.

"Miss Primson is to teach in another town next season, so if you wait 'til next year you will have a new teacher to commence with, and you can work very hard, so as to get into my room as soon as possible," she said.

The child's face lighted with a happy smile.

"Oh, then, I don't want to go THIS year!" she cried, "I'll stay at home, as mama said, and keep school with my dolls and the kittens, but will you come sometimes, and see if I teach them right?"

"I certainly will," Miss Sterling said, kindly, "and I do hope your little class will behave nicely."

"The dolls will," said Dollie, hopefully, "but the kittens' manners are—awful!"

"Then that shows how much they need a teacher," Miss Sterling said, and Dollie felt sure that it must be right for her to remain at home, that those kittens might not be neglected.

"They run away 'thout asking to be s'cused, and they walk right into the saucer of milk. I don't s'pect them to use spoons, but they needn't sit down in it. How'd I look, if I sat down in MY plate when I was eating?"

There was no one near to answer her question, and the little girl hurried home, convinced that there must be no delay in educating the kittens.

There was one small person in the town who feared the opening of school, and that was Gyp.

During vacation days he was care free, but as it neared the time when all the children of Avondale would be, for the greater part of the day, in school, he began to watch any person who passed the shanty that he called "home," and to view with terror the blue coat of a policeman.

"They shan't ketch me!" he muttered, "I WON'T go to school!"

His mother, as ignorant as himself, enjoyed using him as a wood gatherer, and thus insisted that he was not old enough to go to school, when questioned by a member of the school committee.

"Not OLD enough!" cried the man in disgust, "why, woman, any child five years old can go to school."

"Gyp ain't five yet!" the woman had answered, stolidly.

"It's no use talking that way," was the quick reply, "he's NINE if he's a day. I think it's more likely that he's ten. Ye can't keep a child out of school unless he's less'n five, or over fourteen."

"Then he's OVER fourteen!" cried the woman.

"Less'n five one minute, and over fourteen the next!" said the man in disgust. "Grows kinder fast, don't he?"

"Well, he AIN'T goin' ter school!" the woman insisted, and the officer went his way.

Gyp, however, did not believe that he would long remain away from the shanty.

He determined to take no chances, and it seemed to him that the safest thing for him to do, was to keep well away from home.

At twilight he surprised his family by appearing with a huge bundle of fagots that he had gathered in the woods. He gave them yet another surprise by packing the wood upon the old wood pile behind the house, and running off again for more.

He returned with a larger bundle than the first.

"Kind 'o busy, ain't yer?" questioned his mother, but Gyp made no reply. She watched him, as he hastily piled the wood.

It certainly was unusual to see the boy work like that!

When asked to do a task, it was Gyp's habit to do it as slowly as possible, and to do as little as he dared.

Now, without waiting to be asked, he was working as if he had not a moment to spare!

Yet more amazing, on the next day, before any of his family was stirring, he was again at work, and soon a huge heap of fagots rose in the little back yard.

"What AILS ye, Gyp?" his mother asked, "Be ye sick?"

Gyp never answered unless he chose, and this was surely one of the times when he did not choose.

"Ornary critter!" said the woman, as she picked up her broom, and went in, closing the door behind her.

"NOW, I'll go!" said Gyp, and he ran off across the fields.

He could take care of himself, and he always managed, when away from home, to steal enough so that he was well fed. He knew that, if wood were needed, his mother would hunt for him, but with the big pile of firewood behind the shanty, she would not search for him. She would be glad that for a time she need not feed him!

Gyp had been shrewd when he had made that woodpile!

He found, when he had crossed the fields, that he was on a country road, and near a large farmhouse, whose big barn-door stood invitingly open.

In front of the house stood a baker's cart, and Gyp looked about to see if the driver were in sight.

"He's in that house!" whispered Gyp, in great excitement.

In haste, lest the man return, and catch him, he pulled out a draw, snatched some buns, and a pie, and darted with them into the barn, and up on the hay in the loft, where he hugely enjoyed his treat.

He heard the man run out to the cart, push the draw to, and then drive off.

"I've had a fine treat, an' he ain't missed what I took, so that's all right," he said, with a laugh, "an' I guess I'll see who's got some fruit in his garden. That's what I want now!"

He went down the ladder like a monkey, ran from the barn, and a little farther up the road, found a fine blackberry patch, just over the wall.

Of these he ate until he cared for no more, and then, like a full- fledged tramp, strode down the dusty road.

"I ain't goin' ter be ketched 'fore their old school begins, fer if I AM ketched, they'll make me begin with the others, an' I ain't a goin' ter, but after its goin' on two weeks, then I'll be safe. They won't bother me then, an' I'll hang around the schoolhouse an' make things lively!"

He smiled as he muttered this threat, and his black eyes twinkled. Oh, yes, he would be delighted to play any outrageous trick that might startle both teacher and pupils.

He did not know that during all the season, those who intended that every child in town should be educated, strove with the same vigilance as at the beginning of the year.

"Gyp's run away!"

"Why, Harry Grafton, he's always running away from somewhere, or from someone," said Leslie.

"Oh, that's when he's been stealing things," said Harry, "but this time it's different. He ran away from the shanty, and I know, because I heard his mother asking a policeman to find him, and she said he'd been gone a week!"

"Wherever he is, he won't stay long," said Leslie, "he'll come running home."

"Why will he?" questioned Harry. "If he's run away, it's because he's tired of that old shanty, and I should think he would be!"

"WE'D be tired of it," said Leslie, "but he's used to it, and he'll come back, just because it's his home."

"P'raps he will," agreed Harry, "but I wouldn't think that place would seem like home even to Gyp!"

"I'm going up to play with Princess Polly," said Leslie, "and I'll tell her about Gyp. She's afraid of him, and I know she wouldn't want him to run away, but she may feel safer because he has."

"He wouldn't dare harm her," said Harry, with flashing eyes, "for he knows we boys wouldn't stand that. We'd fight for Princess Polly!"

"And she's the only thing I'd want to see you fight for. Mama says that boys who quarrel are vulgar, but it would be right to do ANYTHING for Princess Polly. She's the dearest girl in the world," said Leslie, "and Rose Atherton is next!"

"Yes," said Harry, "Rose is next."

Quite unaware that any of her playmates were near, Polly ran out into the sunshine, and taking a long bit of trailing vine for a skipping rope, tripped along the driveway.

"Oh, you're not a very nice rope," she said, "but you're a pretty make- believe rope. Here, Mortimer! You can have this for a string."

She ran along, dragging the vine, and Sir Mortimer, glad of a playmate, raced after it, as much excited as if he had been a kitten.

"We'll dance and play The livelong day; Ah, happy friends are we. With summer flowers And shady bowers And young hearts light and free,"

sang Polly, and Leslie and Harry from their seat on the top of the stone wall, near the gate-way, echoed the last line;

"And young hearts light and free."

"Oh, I was singing to Sir Mortimer, and I didn't know anyone was near to hear me," said Polly, laughing gaily, as the two who had been her little audience sprang from the wall, and ran up the driveway to the garden.

Polly tossed the vine upon the grass, where Sir Mortimer promptly snatched it, and rolling over, became entangled in it.

"You'll want to take him to school with you," said Leslie, with a laugh, "but Mortimer will have to stay at home."

"They won't let even Princess Polly bring a cat to school," said Harry, "tho' I would if I was the teacher."

"Then I wish you were the teacher, Harry," said Polly, "but I know I shall like school here at Avondale, and I shall have fine times, even if Sir Mortimer has to stay at home."

"Gwen Harcourt will be funny in whatever class they place her," said Harry, "because she says she doesn't want to go to school, and she means to act so that the teacher'll be GLAD to send her home!"

"And Rob Lindsey says there's ever so many new pupils coming this year, so the classes will be full, and there'll be just CROWDS of children to play with," declared Leslie.

Oh, there were merry days in store for the little playmates, and those who have learned to love Princess Polly, and would like to meet her again, to know what happened to Rose, and of the gay times at school, and at Sherwood Hall, may read of all this in

"PRINCESS POLLY AT SCHOOL"

THE END