Part 62

“Well, why don't she then?” said Percy, opening his eyes to their widest extent.

“Cause,” said Jasper, stopping on his way to the door to look him full in the face, “she's commenced to learn to play, and there won't anything stop her.”

“I'm going to try,” said Percy, gleefully. “I know lots of ways I can do to try, anyway.”

“See here, now,” said Jasper, turning back, “you let her alone! Do you hear?” he added, and there must have been something in his eye to command attention, for Percy instantly signified his intention not to tease this young music student in the least.

“Come on then, old fellow,” and Jasper swung his cap on his head, “Thomas will be like forty bears if we keep him waiting much longer.”

And Polly kept at it steadily day after day; getting through with the lessons in the schoolroom as quickly as possible to rush to her music, until presently the little Frenchman waxed enthusiastic to that degree that, as day after day progressed and swelled into weeks, and each lesson came to an end, he would skip away on the tips of his toes, his nose in the air, and the waxed ends of his moustache, fairly trembling with delight, “Ah, such patience as Mademoiselle Pep-paire has! I know no other such little Americane!”

“I think,” said Jasper one evening after dinner, when all the children were assembled as usual in their favorite place on the big rug in front of the fire in the library, Prince in the middle of the group, his head on his paws, watching everything in infinite satisfaction, “that Polly's getting on in music as I never saw anyone do; and that's a fact!”

“I mean to begin,” said Van, ambitiously, sitting up straight and staring at the glowing coals. “I guess I will to-morrow,” which announcement was received with a perfect shout--Van's taste being anything rather than of a musical nature.

“If you do,” said Jappy, when the merriment had a little subsided, “I shall go out of the house at every lesson; there won't anyone stay in it, Van.”

“I can bang all I want to, then,” said Van, noways disturbed by the reflection, and pulling one of Prince's long ears, “you think you're so big, Jappy, just because you're thirteen.”

“He's only three ahead of me, Van,” bristled Percy, who never could forgive Jappy for being his uncle, much less the still greater sin of having been born three years earlier than himself.

“Three's just as bad as four,” said Van.

“Let's tell stories,” began Polly, who never could remember such goings on in the little brown house; “we must each tell one,” she added with the greatest enthusiasm, “and see which will be the biggest and the best.”

“Oh, no,” said Van, who perfectly revelled in Polly's stories, and who now forgot his trials in the prospect of one, “You tell, Polly--you tell alone.”

“Yes, do, Polly,” said Jasper; “we'd rather.”

So Polly launched out into one of her gayest and finest; and soon they were in such a peal of laughter, and had reached such heights of enjoyment, that Mr. King popped his head in at the door, and then came in, and took a seat in a big rocking-chair in the corner to hear the fun go on.

“Oh, dear,” said Van, leaning back with a long sigh, and wiping his flushed face as Polly wound up with a triumphant flourish, 'how ever do you think of such things, Polly Pepper?

“That isn't anything,” said Jappy, bringing his handsome face out into the strong light; “why, it's just nothing to what she has told time and again in the little brown house in Badgertown;” and then he caught sight of Polly's face, which turned a little pale in the firelight as he spoke; and the brown eyes had such a pathetic droop in them that it went to the boy's very heart.

Was Polly homesick? and so soon!

POLLY IS COMFORTED

Yes, it must be confessed. Polly was homesick. All her imaginations of her mother's hard work, increased by her absence, loomed up before her, till she was almost ready to fly home without a minute's warning. At night, when no one knew it, the tears would come racing over the poor, forlorn little face, and would not be squeezed back. It got to be noticed finally; and one and all redoubled their exertions to make everything twice as pleasant as ever!

The only place, except in front of the grand piano, where Polly approached a state of comparative happiness, was in the greenhouse.

Here she would stay, comforted and soothed among the lovely plants and rich exotics, rejoicing the heart of Old Turner the gardener, who since Polly's first rapturous entrance, had taken her into his good graces for all time.

Every chance she could steal after practice hours were over, and after the clamorous demands of the boys upon her time were fully satisfied, was seized to fly on the wings of the wind, to the flowers.

But even with the music and flowers the dancing light in the eyes went down a little; and Polly, growing more silent and pale, moved around with a little droop to the small figure that had only been wont to fly through the wide halls and spacious rooms with gay and springing step.

“Polly don't like us,” at last said Van one day in despair. “Then, dear,” said Mrs. Whitney, “you must be kinder to her than ever; think what it would be for one of you to be away from home even among friends.”

“I'd like it first rate to be away from Percy,” said Van, reflectively; “I wouldn't come back in three, no, six weeks.”

“My son,” said his mamma, “just stop and think how badly you would feel, if you really couldn't see Percy.”