it was nearly four o’clock when sardis arrived. the family were on the veranda, each curious to see the cook whom the young man was to bring. as he appeared alone at the big birch-tree they gave him scant notice, their eyes passing from him to the place beyond where the new cook would first come into view. they watched in vain.
“she probably rode,” whispered lilith to polly; “but why didn’t he ride up with her?”
“i bet she wouldn’t come!” piped clementina.
“it would be a joke if she left him in the lurch,” smiled mrs. daybill.
polly stepped forward to greet the visitor, and dr. abbe lifting dolly in his arms went down the steps, saying, “here is a young lady who ‘can’t wait to kiss sardis.’”
there was a general laugh, and then clementina got in her word. “where’s the new cook?”
“she will be here presently,—as soon as i get washed up.”
polly’s heart “went down cellar,” as later she told lilith.
after a little non-essential talk sardis merrifield walked over to the study with dr. abbe.
[260] lilith drew polly inside and thence to the kitchen. “what does it mean?” she began. “not that the minister—?”
“yes,” frowned polly. “every boy who has fried bacon or made coffee at a camp thinks he is an accomplished cook.” she looked round the spotless kitchen over which she and lilith had spent the greater share of the forenoon, and sighed. if only benedicta would pop in and save the day!
“i’m glad i blacked the stove,” reflected lilith. “i thought first i’d leave it for the new cook!”
“he’ll never know whether it is black or red,” scorned polly. “in some respects men are all alike.”
nevertheless, the man that walked into the kitchen, unannounced, a few moments later did look different from any other that polly had ever known. very trim he was in his short white coat, a chef’s cap hiding his thick brown hair. his face wore the expression of one in love with his r?le.
“at your service, mademoiselle,” he said with a low bow.
lilith peeped in from the back piazza, then swiftly stole away with a silent chuckle. it was too funny! could he really cook?
“if you will allow me,” began the newcomer, “i should like to look round a bit, so that i may learn where things are. or perhaps you will be good enough to show me.”
“now, mr. merrifield,” began polly, “you[261] needn’t think you must do this to help out. we can get along. the truth is, miss brooks and i don’t know much about cooking, and we were afraid you wouldn’t like it very well; but if you can put up with—”
his hand stayed her apologies. “miss dudley,” he said, “i have come here to cook, and i don’t like to give up a job until i have had a chance at it. then if i don’t suit you, i will get out as quick and gracefully as i can.” he looked at her with mischievous eyes.
she laughed. “i suppose i’ll have to let you,” she replied, “and lilith and i will help all we can.”
“i think i shall not need any help,” he smiled. “i will agree to take care of the kitchen.”
“all but the dishes, then,” yielded polly.
“i always wash my own dishes,” he returned, with eyes that twinkled.
“you talk as if you were used to kitchen work,” laughed polly.
“i am.”
the girl looked incredulous, but said nothing. at once she began opening doors of pantry and storeroom and cupboards.
“everything appears to be very convenient,” he approved, as he examined the large ice-chest in the corner of the storeroom.
“we think so,” was the response. “mrs. gresham spared no money in remodeling this part of the house.”
[262] the talk passed to the donator’s beneficence, until, finally, they came back to the kitchen, where the clock told them that tea-time was not far away.
the new cook at once began preparations for the meal, and in the short time that polly remained she had to admit to herself that here was no green hand, and she left the room with a relief that she had not known since benedicta’s departure.
that first tea will always remain in the memory of those that sat at the table with sardis merrifield. bouillon, deliciously seasoned; small rolls—hot, light, tender, and crusted—as rolls should be; salad served on individual dishes, lettuce leaves beneath and sprays of parsley atop; a layer cake with filling of peaches and whipped cream;—that was all, but no one who shared the meal felt any lack.
“where did he get that salad dressing,” queried lilith of polly, while the new cook was washing the dishes. “there wasn’t a drop in the pantry, and he surely hadn’t time to make it; yet there it was, exactly in the middle of each slice of tomato—and wasn’t it good!”
“it was good, and he made the dressing,” answered polly.
“how do you know?” queried lilith in surprise.
“i asked him when i went out to offer my services as dish-wiper,” replied polly. “do you know what was in that salad?”
[263] “no, i couldn’t quite make out—tomatoes and cabbage for two things.”
“and macaroni!”
“i thought of that, but i couldn’t believe it was.”
“he found some in the refrigerator, so he chopped some cabbage to go with it; he says he often puts them together.”
“and wasn’t it arranged prettily? where in the world did he learn to do those things?”
polly shook her head. “i am going to find out.”
two days afterward she came upon the new cook in the kitchen scanning a small volume.
“i am hunting for a pudding recipe,” he told her.
“it is an imposition for us to let you do all this work,” she said apologetically.
“no, indeed,” he replied; “it is a real pleasure. besides, i was falling out of practice. i ought to remember how to make this pudding without consulting a recipe.”
polly looked at him curiously. “you talk—and cook—as if you were a professional,” she laughed.
“i am. this is the first summer for five years that i have not been concocting dishes for the table. i cooked my way through college, first at the commons, then at a new york restaurant. finally a yale boy rescued me, and for three summers i was chef at his father’s home up the hudson.”
[264] “isn’t that fine!” exclaimed polly, her eyes shining.
“some people don’t see it that way,” smiled the young man.
“why not?” polly returned in an astonished tone. “i think it is splendid to work one’s way through college; but i never should have thought of cooking.”
“it pays pretty well, and it was the money i was looking for,” he laughed.
“i knew a boy who took care of furnaces; but cooking is ever so much better. and you do know how to cook!” polly wagged her head in approval.
“it is well you think so,” he replied; “seeing you have to eat the cooking.”
“by the way,” he went on, “my sub-conscious mind has just notified me of a neglected duty. while you were down in overlook this forenoon mr. wheatley came to see his little granddaughter. he rode up with the grocer.”
“oh, did he!” cried polly. “rosalind must have been delighted.”
“yes, but you should have seen her grandfather. he was almost beside himself to find how much she had improved. is she really expected to walk at the end of two years?”
“father thinks she will.”
there was a moment of tense silence.
then the man asked, in lowered tone, “has[265] dr. dudley ever said whether there was any chance for dorothy?”
this was what polly had dreaded the first time he was at overlook; but he had not asked the question. now it had come. she could not bear to hurt him. her eyes misted, and she looked away.
“yes,” she answered slowly, “he told me that before he saw her he thought there might be help; afterwards—”
a tear escaped its bound, and her hand sought to hide it.
“of course, it couldn’t be,” he said quickly. “i didn’t need to ask.”
“oh, why must there be such hard things in the world!” broke out polly impulsively.
“even as it is, she is happier than most children.”
“i know, still—” she did not go on; and he spoke brightly.
“little miss rosalind ferne told me to-day that i was extravagant.”
“extravagant!” polly’s forehead wrinkled in perplexity.
“she asked me what i was going to have for dinner, and i told her i intended to fricassee three chickens. ‘dear me!’ she said, ‘fricassee means all cut up, doesn’t it?’ i told her it did. ‘well,’ she replied, ‘i’m sorry, for i do like to see a bird on the table, and i think you’re pretty extravagant with your ammunition.’”
polly laughed. “she does make droll speeches.”
[266] “yes, she has strange thoughts. this morning i overheard the children talking, and rosalind said, ‘what pretty hills those are—the ’way-off ones! i wish i knew who made them.’ dorothy spoke up. ‘why, rosalind, don’t you know? god made them.’—‘who made the sunshine?’—‘god made it,’ dorothy answered.—‘who made the stars?’ went on rosalind.—‘god. he made everything. he made the whole world.’ for a moment rosalind was silent; then she asked, in quite a now-i’ve-got-you tone, ‘well, who made god?’ but dorothy was ready. ‘nobody made him,’ she replied. ‘he has lived always. there never was a time when he didn’t live.’ they were quiet for a little. then rosalind responded in a rather weary tone, ‘my, he must be healthy!’
“i thought they’d laugh; but not a sound! so i peeped in. there they sat, solemn as little owls. nobody had seen anything funny about that!”
the days flew swiftly over sunrise chalet. sardis merrifield had been cook in the commodious kitchen for more than a week and had treated the family to an astonishing variety of fancy dishes and plain. at first the white nurse had worried for fear the children were having too rich food; but the cook assured her that the richness was mostly in the unfamiliar names, and as nobody became ill, she soon settled down, with everybody else, to the enjoyment of the novel viands with which the table greeted them, meal after meal.
[267] early one afternoon benedicta appeared at the kitchen door with grocer jack, and the welcome that she received would have turned any head which was not as well-balanced as hers.
“well, now stop talkin’, all of you,” she laughed finally, “and leave me the kitchen to myself! i can’t concoct cookies or doughnuts to such a tintinnabulation as this!”
“but you don’t need to,” cried lilith. “mr. merrifield keeps us beautifully cooked up.”
“oh!” scoffed benedicta, turning merry eyes towards the minister, “i know what a man’s cooking is—i’ve had it! it’s bacon and eggs, bacon and eggs, ham and griddles, and bacon and eggs—that’s what it is! i warrant you haven’t got a cooky or a doughnut in the house—have you, now?” her challenging eyes swept the group.
“show her into the storeroom, merrifield!” laughed dr. abbe.
“there’s fruit wheels and buttercups!” piped clementina.
“parrots and pans! what hifalutings are those?”
“oh, they’re little—” began the child; but two of her audience were disappearing in the hallway that led to the storeroom and she speeded after.
“well, i don’t see ’s i’m a requisite here,” laughed benedicta as she returned to the kitchen. “such things for a man to make!”
“we had white monkey for supper,” clementina informed her; “but they wouldn’t let me[268] have any. and then they ate it all up!” she ended plaintively.
“‘white monkey’!” repeated the housekeeper in a shocked tone.
“just a cheese dish,” explained lilith.
polly threw her arm around benedicta’s waist. “when are you coming back to stay?” she asked.
the woman looked at her tenderly.
“when you want me?” she queried.
“as soon as you can come. we’ve been lost without you.”
“huh, looks like it!” she returned. nevertheless, polly knew that she was pleased. “when’s your french cook goin’?” with a nod in the direction of sardis.
“he says he can’t be away beyond his two weeks.”
“i’ve got to stay with my sister over sunday,” was the reply, the word so unfamiliar to her lips slipping out smoothly. “after that, sereno thinks he and oscarlucy can get along. my, it’s amazin’ly marvelous the things that ten-year-old kid can do—and do as well as i could. she’s an extraordinary wonder. but, then, she has a mighty smart grandfather and grandmother. why, that house was like waxwork when i got there, the patient all fixed up in bed as nice as you please. i d’n’ know what i’d ’a’ done without oscarlucy when she was so sick. but the doctor says she’ll be all right in a little while—there! i forgot! i[269] sh’d think i was losin’ my mind! where’s my bag? oh, thanks! there’s a letter to pay you for it,” handing the thick missive across clementina’s head to sardis merrifield. “i thought i might as well bring up all the mail there was, seein’ i was comin’.”
she handed out the letters and papers, and then went upstairs with the girls.
the children were in bed, lilith and dr. abbe had gone for a moonlight walk, benedicta had “stepped down” to see “young ben,” mrs. daybill was sewing, and polly was alone on the veranda, when sardis came across from the study.
“want to walk about on ‘top o’ the world’ a few minutes?” he smiled.
polly ran down to him, and they went up the road together.
“i’d like a little advice,” he began.
“i’m afraid i shall not be very wise at that,” she returned; “but i will do my best.”
“suppose we go to the point at once,” he said; “then we will see. the letter that benedicta brought me was from a new york friend. he is a yale man and one of a number from the university that are planning what will doubtless be of untold benefit to one of the worst sections of the city. they have acquired the land already, sufficient for their purpose. the scheme is to put up a few buildings at first and if successful to add to them as needed. they are planning a church, a school,[270] a homey hotel for young women, a lodging-house and restaurant for men and boys, a club-house with gymnasium, and so on. they want me to help.”
“to be pastor of the church?” questioned polly eagerly.
“if they can get a congregation,” he nodded. “it would be my ideal life,” he went on; “though it would not be easy. for myself i should not mind the hardness, or the discouragement—which must be expected; but”—for an instant he paused—“if i should wish to marry, a woman well might hesitate to share the responsibilities of such a future.”
“why?” asked polly in a surprised tone. “you cannot know girls very well, if you think they must have velvet cushions and paths of roses.”
“you are right,” he responded; “i have known but few girls in all my life. still, i am very sure that those—nearly all, at least—would not be attracted by the great opportunities, they would not be willing to make the sacrifice.”
polly shook her head. “i think it is just the work that the right kind of woman would like. take my mother, for instance—you know she used to be a nurse before her marriage—why, she couldn’t be contented a day if she were not helping somebody somewhere. a life of pleasure cannot satisfy the earnest, thoughtful girl of to-day. she craves her share of the world’s work, she wants to[271] see some little spot grow better and happier under her hands.”
“then, you would advise me to accept the offer?”
“i should think you would not hesitate one moment, since you are sure that it is just what you would like best.”
“thank you; i wanted your opinion. this proposal is not wholly unexpected. last spring waite practically said that they should want me as soon as the church was finished; but the word came earlier than i looked for it. the building will not be ready before next summer, and i have one more year of study in new haven.”
the talk fell to other matters, and they walked on and on until they were near the bungalows on the other part of the mountain. a girl came out from the robinson house, and polly recognized sally.
“i thought it was you,” she said as they met. “father has just come up from overlook and brought your mail with ours. i was going to run over with it.”
“oh, a letter and paper from mother!” cried polly joyfully, scanning the superscriptions by the light of the moon. “thank you. benedicta brought some mail this afternoon, but nothing for me. i always miss mother’s letters if they don’t come on the regular days.”
the others were on the veranda when they returned,[272] and polly excused herself to read her letter. upstairs, standing by the lamp, she tore open the envelope.
as she read, her eyes widened and she dropped limply into the nearest chair. she reached for the newspaper which had slipped to the floor and slitted the wrapper with unsteady fingers. glancing hurriedly over it her eyes rested on a marked paragraph near the middle of the third page. quickly she read it through, and then read it again. she was still sitting there when she heard footfalls on the stairs.
“lilith!” she called, and the girl came in.
polly thrust the paper towards her, pointing to the article.
lilith glanced at polly first and was startled at her face. it was colorless with a dazed expression; but it told of neither grief nor trouble. her eyes came back to the printed page, and she read:—
mrs. marion winifred stuart, of richmond, virginia, announces the engagement of her daughter, valorie lynde stuart, to mr. david gresham collins, son of mrs. eva gresham collins, and grandnephew of david gresham, of fair harbor, connecticut.
polly smiled.
“do-don’t you—care?” whispered lilith.
“i want to shout ‘halleluiah!’ at the top of my voice!”
“polly dudley!”
[273] “i do! i feel so deliciously light—i may fly away!”
lilith looked into the sparkling eyes and believed her.
polly went to bed; but sleep did not come. that first exaltation had passed and left her heart quivering and sad. she reviewed her talk with sardis. why had he sought her opinion? what was it to him? questions clamored for answers. why should her path always lead through such tangles? there was lilith—she had come up to overlook, heart-free, untroubled; now she was radiantly happy with her new-found lover. patricia had had a little bitterness which lasted only long enough to make the joy that had followed it seem the sweeter. she was not envious of her friends—oh, no, not in the least degree. she rejoiced in their gladness; yet she could not resist comparing her way with theirs. during the later years they had been together david was but an unsatisfactory lover. she had felt trammeled by his watchful, jealous eyes. their love, if love it had really been, looked now but the shadow of the joyousness which she realized love might be. and only within a few hours she had practically told sardis merrifield that the really greatest happiness the right kind of woman could have was in her labor for others! what a hypocrite she was! when her heart was yearning, not for increased opportunity for work, but for the love that was not for[274] her! she scorned, she despised herself, and yet this new emotion was something beyond her power. hours dragged by with thoughts like these racing through her brain. finally weariness overcame her and she slept.
it was late when she awoke. she rose and dressed quickly, suddenly remembering that she was to take benedicta down to overlook and had planned to start early.
sardis was hanging up the dishpans as polly came into the kitchen.
“suppose you ride down to overlook with us,” she said. “i’m going to take two or three of the children, and dolly will enjoy it better if you are with her.”
“thank you,” he smiled; “i shall be glad to go. i need some supplies, and the grocer won’t be here until to-morrow; so i was thinking i’d beg your car and run down and get them. this makes it all right.”
“i didn’t know you could drive,” polly looked surprised.
“yes. i learned last summer. the car was a grant six, similar to yours. i have not touched one this year, but i think i have not forgotten.”
“then you don’t need me, and you can take more children.”
he looked at her earnestly, almost questioningly. for an instant polly was afraid that he was offended at her suggestion.
[275] “yes,” he said slowly, “i do need you—i think i have always needed you. i only wish that you needed me.”
he was still looking steadily across the corner of the kitchen table into the brown eyes. they widened a bit with astonishment, and then flashed with incredulous joy. her cheeks paled and flushed.
she had the poise of a startled bird just ready to take wing.
“miss dudley, do you—need me? do you?” he bent towards her, and involuntarily she drew back.
“no, don’t!” he pleaded. “i’m not coming—unless you want me.”
her lips moved, but with no word. she looked up into his eyes, a sweet, tremulous smile on the lips that would not speak.
“bless you, little girl!” he breathed, and took a quick step round the table.
“teeters and tongs!” ejaculated benedicta from the back piazza, “what in the universe are you doin’? ain’t you ready yet? i’ve been sittin’ there in the chariot for an hour or less. i thought we were goin’ to overlook!”
“yes, benedicta, i’ll be out in a minute!” polly’s lips had spoken.
there was a knock, and then the inner door crept open, lilith calling out, “anybody here?—oh, i beg your pardon!”
[276] “what is it, lilith?” polly said hurriedly. she flung the door wide.
“i thought there was nobody there,” she apologized. “i was afraid you were waiting. the children are all ready.”
“i was asking mr. merrifield to go with us, and just found out that he could drive,” explained polly, somewhat lamely, as the girls went upstairs together.
“say, miss polly,” called benedicta.
polly came to the head of the flight.
“do you mind if i drive the chariot down? i was dyin’ to get my hands on that wheel, and i’ve been holdin’ ’em on it for the longest time, waitin’ for you folks. it did feel amazin’ly rapturous.”
“why, certainly you can drive,” polly assured her.
“just as lief as not?” was the anxious inquiry.
“surely, benedicta, and i’ll be down directly.”
“how lovely you look!” beamed lilith innocently. “your eyes are even brighter than they were last night. i wish david collins had got engaged a year ago if it is going to make you look this way.”
“thank you,” replied polly. “i am glad he is all right; now i can be happy with a clear conscience.”
the horn was honking as they went out. “hurry up!” called benedicta. “we shan’t arrive till noon.”
“miss polly is going to walk down with me,” sardis merrifield answered.
“teeters and tongs!” she replied, “you’ll be totally exhausted by the time you reach the foot.”
“oh, no,” laughed polly, “one couldn’t be tired. look over there—fringes of purple and gold as far as you can see! it is a royal road to overlook to-day.”
“teeters and tongs!” floated out to them as the doors clicked together. “’course it’s a ‘royal road’ ... but ’tain’t the goldenrod and asters!... god bless ’em!”
