Part 60

And now they neared the big city, and everybody began to bustle around, and get ready to jump out, and the minute the train stopped, the crowd poured out from the cars, making way for the crowd pouring in, for this was a through train.

“All aboard!” sang the conductor. “Oh my senses!” springing to Polly; “I forgot you--here!”

But as quick as a flash he was pushed aside, and a bright, boyish figure dashed up.

“Oh, Polly!” he said in such a ringing voice! and in another second, Polly and her bag, and the bundle of cakes and apples that Grandma Bascom had put up for her, and Joel's box, were one and all bundled out upon the platform, and the train whizzed on, and there Mr. King was fuming up and down, berating the departing conductor, and speaking his mind in regard to all the railroad officials he could think of. He pulled himself up long enough to give Polly a hearty welcome; and then away again he flew in righteous indignation, while Jasper rushed off into the baggage room with Polly's check.

However, every now and then, turning to look down into the little rosy face beside him, the old gentleman would burst forth, “Bless me, child! I'm glad you're here, Polly!--how could the fellow forget when--”

“Oh well, you know,” said Polly, with a happy little wriggle under her brown coat, “I'm here now.”

“So you are! so you are!” laughed the old gentleman suddenly; “where can Jasper be so long.”

“They're all in the carriage,” answered the boy skipping back. “Now, father! now Polly!”

He was fairly bubbling over with joy and Mr. King forgot his dudgeon and joined in the general glee, which soon became so great that travellers gave many a glance at the merry trio who bundled away to Thomas and the waiting grays.

“You're sure you've got the right check?” asked Mr. King, nervously, getting into a handsome coach lined with dark green satin, and settling down among its ample cushions with a sigh of relief.

“Oh yes,” laughed Jasper; “Polly didn't have any one else's check, I guess.”

Over through the heart of the city, down narrow, noisy business streets, out into wide avenues, with handsome stately mansions on either side--they flew along.

“Oh,” said Polly; and then she stopped, and blushed very hard.

“What is it, my dear?” asked Mr. King, kindly.

Polly couldn't speak at first, but when Jasper stopped his merry chat and begged to know what it was, she turned on him, and burst out, “You live here?”

“Why, yes,” laughed the boy; “why not?”

“Oh!” said Polly again, her cheeks as red as two roses, “it's so lovely!”

And then the carriage turned in at a brown stone gateway, and winding up among some fine old trees, stopped before a large, stately residence that in Polly's eyes seemed like one of the castles of Ben's famous stories. And then Mr. King got out, and gallantly escorted Polly out, and up the steps, while Jasper followed with Polly's bag which he couldn't be persuaded to resign to Thomas. A stiff waiter held the door open--and then, the rest was only a pleasant, confused jumble of kind welcoming words, smiling faces, with a background of high spacious walls, bright pictures, and soft elegant hangings, everything and all inextricably mixed--till Polly herself seemed floating--away--away, fast to the Fairyland of her dreams; now, Mr. King was handing her around, like a precious parcel, from one to the other--now Jasper was bobbing in and out everywhere, introducing her on all sides, and then Prince was jumping up and trying to lick her face every minute--but best of all was, when a lovely face looked down into hers, and Jasper's sister bent to kiss her.

“I am very glad to have you here, little Polly.” The words were simple, but Polly, lifting up her clear brown eyes, looked straight into the heart of the speaker, and from that moment never ceased to love her.

“It was a good inspiraton,” thought Mrs. Whitney to herself; “this little girl is going to be a comfort, I know.” And then she set herself to conduct successfully her three boys into friendliness and good fellowship with Polly, for each of them was following his own sweet will in the capacity of host, and besides staring at her with all his might, was determined to do the whole of the entertaining, a state of things which might become unpleasant. However, Polly stood it like a veteran.

“This little girl must be very tired,” said Mrs. Whitney, at last with a bright smile. “Besides I am going to have her to myself now.”

“Oh, no, no,” cried little Dick in alarm; “why, she's just come; we want to see her.”

“For shame, Dick!” said Percy, the eldest, a boy of ten years, who took every opportunity to reprove Dick in public; “she's come a great ways, so she ought to rest, you know.”

“You wanted her to come out to the greenhouse yourself, you know you did,” put in Van, the next to Percy, who never would be reproved or patronized, “only she wouldn't go.”

“You'll come down to dinner,” said Percy, politely, ignoring Van. “Then you won't be tired, perhaps.”

“Oh, I'm not very tired now,” said Polly, brightly, with a merry little laugh, “only I've never been in the cars before, and--”

“Never been in the cars before!” exclaimed Van, crowding up, while Percy made a big round O with his mouth, and little Dick's eyes stretched to their widest extent.

“No,” said Polly simply, “never in all my life.”