"Why, you must be Polly?"

"Yes, sir, I am," said Polly, pleased to think he knew her. And then she told him how she'd forgotten Cherry's seed, and all about it. "And oh, sir," she said, and her voice began to tremble, "Mamsie'll be so frightened if I don't get there soon!"

"I'm going up there myself, so that it all happens very nicely," said the gentleman, commencing to start off briskly, and grasping her hand tighter. "Now, then, Polly."

So off they went at a very fast pace; she, skipping through the puddles that his long, even strides carried him safely over, chattered away by his side under the umbrella, and answered his many questions, and altogether got so very well acquainted that by the time they turned in at the old stone gateway, she felt as if she had known him for years.

And there, the first thing they either of them saw, down in a little corner back of the tall evergreens, was a small heap that rose as they splashed up the carriage-drive, and resolved itself into a very red dress and a very white ap.r.o.n, as it rushed impulsively up and flung itself into Polly's wet arms:

"And I was so tired waiting, Polly!"

"Oh dear me, Phronsie!" cried Polly, huddling her up from the dark, wet ground. "You'll catch your death! What will mamsie say!"

The stranger, amazed at this new stage of the proceedings, was vainly trying to hold the umbrella over both, till the procession could move on again.

"Oh!" cried Phronsie, shaking her yellow head decidedly, "they're all looking for you, Polly." She pointed one finger solemnly up to the big carved door as she spoke. At that Polly gathered her up close and began to walk with rapid footsteps up the path.

"Do let me carry you, little girl," said Polly's kind friend persuasively, bending down to the little face on Polly's neck.

"Oh, no, no, no!" said Phronsie, at each syllable grasping Polly around the throat in perfect terror, and waving him off with a very crumpled, mangy bit of paper, that had already done duty to wipe off the copious tears during her anxious watch. "Don't let him, Polly, don't!"

"There sha'n't anything hurt you," said Polly, kissing her rea.s.suringly, and stepping briskly off with her burden, just as the door burst open, and Joel flew out on the veranda steps, followed by the rest of the troop in the greatest state of excitement.

"Oh, whickety! she's come!" he shouted, springing up to her over the puddles, and crowding under the umbrella. "Where'd you get Phronsie?" he asked, standing quite still at sight of the little feet tucked up to get out of the rain. And without waiting for an answer he turned and shot back into the house proclaiming in stentorian tones, "Ma, Polly's come--an' she's got Phronsie--an' an awful big man--and they're out by the gate!"

"Phronsie!" said Mrs. Pepper, springing to her feet, "why, I thought she was up-stairs with Jane."

"Now, somebody," exclaimed old Mr. King, who sat by the library table vainly trying to read a newspaper, which he now threw down in extreme irritation as he rose quickly and went to the door to welcome the wanderers, "somebody ought to watch that poor child, whose business it is to know where she is! She's caught her death-cold, no doubt, no doubt!"

Outside, in the rain, the children revolved around and around Polly and Phronsie, hugging and kissing them, until n.o.body could do much more than breathe, not seeming to notice the stranger, who stood quietly waiting till such time as he could be heard.

At last, in a lull in the scramble, as they were dragging Polly and her burden up the steps, each wild for the honor of escorting her into the house, he cried out in laughing tones:

"Isn't anybody going to kiss me, I wonder!"

The two little Whitneys, who were eagerly clutching Polly's arms, turned around; and Percy rubbed his eyes in a puzzled way, as Joel said, stopping a minute to look up at the tall figure:

"We don't ever kiss strangers--mamsie's told us not to."

"For shame, Joey!" cried Polly, feeling her face grow dreadfully red in the darkness, "the gentleman's been so kind to me!"

"You're right, my boy," said the stranger, laughing and bending down to Joel's upturned, st.u.r.dy countenance, at the same instant that Mrs.

Pepper flung open the big door, and a bright, warm light fell straight across his handsome face. And then--well, then Percy gave a violent bound, and upsetting Joel as he did so, wriggled his way down the steps--at the same time that Van, on Polly's other side, rushed up to the gentleman:

"Papa--oh, papa!"

Polly, half way up the steps, turned around, and then, at the rush of feeling that gathered at her heart, sat right down on the wet slippery step.

"Why, Polly Pepper!" exclaimed Joel, not minding his own upset. "You're right in all the slush--mother won't like it, I tell you!"

"Hush!" cried Polly, catching his arm, "he's come--oh, Joel--he's come!"

"Who?" cried Joel, staring around blindly, "who, Polly?" Polly had just opened her lips to explain, when Mr. King's portly, handsome figure appeared in the doorway. "Do come in, children--why--good gracious, Mason!"

"Yes," cried the stranger, lightly, dropping his big bundle and umbrella as he pa.s.sed in the door, with his little sons clinging to him. "Where is Marian?"

"Why didn't you write?" asked the old gentleman, testily. "These surprises aren't the right sort of things," and he began to feel vigorously of his heart. "Here, Mrs. Pepper, be so good as to call Mrs.

Whitney."

"Pepper! Pepper!" repeated Mr. Whitney, perplexedly.

"She's coming--I hear her up-stairs," cried Van Whitney. "Oh, let me tell her!" He struggled to get down from his father's arms as he said this.

"No, I shall--I heard her first!" cried Percy. "Oh, dear me! Grandpapa's going to!"

Mr. King advanced to the foot of the staircase as his daughter, all unconscious, ran down with a light step, and a smile on her face.

"Has Polly come?" she asked, seeing only her father. "Yes," replied the old gentleman, shortly, "and she's brought a big bundle, Marian!"

"A big bundle?" she repeated wonderingly, and gazing at him.

"A very big bundle," he said, and taking hold of her shoulders he turned her around on--her husband.

So Polly and Phronsie crept in unnoticed after all.

"I wish Ben was here," said little Davie, capering around the Whitney group, "an' j.a.ppy, I do!"

"Where are they!" asked Polly.

"Don't know," said Joel, tugging at his shoe-string. "See--aren't these prime!" He held up a shining black shoe, fairly bristling with newness, for Polly to admire.

"Splendid," she cried heartily; "but where are the boys?"

"They went after you," said Davie, "after we came home with our shoes."

"No, they didn't," contradicted Joel, flatly; and sitting down on the floor he began to tie and untie his new possessions. "When we came home Ben drew us pictures--lots of 'em--don't you know?"

"Oh, yes," said Davie, nodding his head, "so he did; that was when we all cried 'cause you weren't home, Polly."

"He drawed me a be-yew-tiful one," cried Phronsie, holding up her mangy bit; "see, Polly, see!"

"That's the little brown house," said Davie, looking over her shoulder as Phronsie put it carefully into Polly's hand.

"It's all washed out," said Polly, smoothing it out, "when you staid out in the rain."

Phronsie's face grew very grave at that.

"Bad, naughty old rain," she said, and then she began to cry as hard as she could.