Part 1

_PLAYMATE POLLY_

[Illustration: Elizabeth Otis]

_PLAYMATE POLLY_

BY AMY E. BLANCHARD

_Author of “Little Miss Oddity,” “Little Miss Mouse,” “Little Sister Anne,” “Mistress May,” etc._

NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1909, by GEORGE W. JACOBS AND COMPANY _Published June, 1909_

_All rights reserved_ Printed in U. S. A.

_CONTENTS_

I. UP HILL AND DOWN 9

II. PLAYMATE POLLY 27

III. THE NEIGHBOR OF THE YELLOW HOUSE 43

IV. AUNT BETTY 61

V. A NEW PET 77

VI. A MYSTERY 93

VII. TAKING PILLS 111

VIII. DAPPLE GRAY 129

IX. THE GRAY KITTEN 149

X. ACROSS WATER 167

XI. WHO TOOK THE SPOONS? 185

XII. WHAT WAS FOUND OUT 203

_CHAPTER I_

_Up Hill and Down_

_CHAPTER I_

_Up Hill and Down_

When Jessie started out in the morning to school, she began at the gate to say to herself, “Bridge, Railroad, Hill,” and when she started home again if she came alone, it was “Hill, Railroad, Bridge.” Home was at one end of the journey; school at the other; Bridge, Railroad and Hill were the stations between, Jessie told herself. If she were reasonably early, she would stop on the bridge and peep over at the running water. At the railroad she seldom stopped except to say good-morning to Ezra Limpett who sat outside his little box of a house on sunny days, and inside it on rainy ones. He always held out the red flag to show the engineer, when the trains went whizzing by. Once, when the train was behind time, he had allowed Jessie to hold the fluttering flag, but that was on her way home, and he had said she must never cross till the train had passed. It was on account of Ezra that Jessie was allowed to go to the Hill school, for he never failed to be at his post watching for her, and Jessie’s father knew she would be perfectly safe in crossing the track because Ezra was there. Of course, it was pleasanter to come from school than to go to it, not only because it was down hill and home was at the far end of the way, but because Effie Hinsdale could come nearly as far as the railroad with her, and a companion always makes the distance seem shorter. Furthermore, there was time then to loiter, unless one felt very hungry, though loitering meant a talk with Ezra about the engines and the trains. The engines were always spoken of as _her_ and _she_ and were known by their numbers.

One day when Jessie was about to skip across the railroad ties, she heard Ezra call out: “Better wait a bit. 589 ain’t came along yet. She’s late to-day by ten minutes, and she’s due just about now.”

“Will you let me hold the flag?” said Jessie, turning aside.

Ezra nodded. “Hold her good and tight, and don’t stand too near. She’ll go kitin’ to-day because she’s behind time. Here, stand on this stone and I’ll hold on to ye. That’s her whistle now, so up with ye.”

Jessie scrambled upon the stone and gripped the flag tightly, while Ezra took a firm hold upon her. The train was in sight in a second, and almost before she could wink, it went flying by, scattering the dust and causing Jessie’s skirts to flutter in the breeze it made. It was very exciting, though it was something of a relief to see the tail end of the train disappear down the track.

“Wouldn’t like to be in her way, would ye?” said Ezra, helping the little girl down.

“Indeed, I wouldn’t,” replied Jessie decidedly. “Do you like better to be inside your funny little house, Ezra, or outside it?”

“That depends. Wet days I’m glad to be in; sorter cozy with a fire and my pipe going. ’Tain’t very big, but it’s fair enough shelter, and it ain’t as if I hadn’t a roomier place to actually live in. I don’t have it so very bad, for there ain’t no night trains and I can get home and have my night’s rest. I’m always in by nine, for there ain’t no trains after six. If this was a big trunk line now, the trains would be chugging by all night.”

“Then don’t the conductors and engineers ever sleep?”

“Some of ’em mighty little. There’s hard tales about how they’re worked. Folks all well?”

“Yes, thank you,” returned Jessie, picking up her books which she had dropped on the ground, and being reminded by Ezra’s remark that she must not stay too long. “I reckon I’d better be going now; mother might be worrying about me.”

Ezra nodded. “That’s right. Days gettin’ kinder short, too. You won’t get home much before sundown, come winter.”

“Won’t I?” Jessie had not thought of this. “I’ll always have to hurry then.”

“And you won’t find me settin’ out in the cold so over often,” said Ezra.

“Good-bye,” said Jessie.

Ezra nodded and waved a stubby hand as if to a departing train, while Jessie ran across the track and took up the last part of her accustomed chant. Hill and Railroad were passed, so there was only Bridge left. “Bridge, Bridge, Bridge, Bridge,” she whispered, keeping time to her pace, and very soon Bridge, too, was left behind and she was within sight of the lane, the house, the barn, and, last, her mother’s anxious face at the window.

“You’re late, dear,” said Mrs. Loomis, as the little girl came into the sitting-room.

“Yes,” returned Jessie. “589 was behind time and Ezra wouldn’t let me come till she had passed. He let me hold the flag. I like the train to be late for it is exciting to have her go by so fast it almost takes your breath.”

“I don’t like it to be late,” replied Mrs. Loomis, “for I always feel anxious about you till you get home. If Ezra were not there, and if I didn’t know we could absolutely depend upon him to watch out for you, I don’t know what we should do.”

“What do you think you would do?” asked Jessie. “Would you or father have to come for me? Would you have to do that?”

“No, we couldn’t do that very well. We should have to send for you, probably, or else keep you from school altogether.”

“I’d like that,” said Jessie in a satisfied tone.

“You’d like to grow up a silly little dunce?” returned her mother, “and not know how to read or write? Would you like Max and Walter to come home from school and be ashamed of their little sister?”

“Oh, no,” Jessie was quite sure she would not. “But,” she said after a moment’s thought, “everybody doesn’t have to go to school. Cousin Lillian does not. I could have a governess.”

“That is what you would have to have, though it would be rather expensive. The boys have to go away to school and it costs a good deal for them. But we’ll not bother over the question while Ezra is on hand, for now it is perfectly safe for you to go to the Hill school.”

“Suppose something should happen to Ezra,” said Jessie, persistently following up the subject. “I should hate anything to happen to him, but if it should, and another man were to take his place, then would I have to stop going to school?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, child. We won’t discuss it now. It will be time enough when such a thing happens.” And Mrs. Loomis went out, leaving Jessie standing by the window.

Jessie stood for a few minutes looking out and then she, too, left the room. It was time to feed the chickens and after that her father would be coming in. The corn had been harvested and stood stacked in the fields. Jessie thought the stacks looked very much like Indian wigwams and she pictured to herself her terror if they really were such. However, the terror was not very keen and was soon forgotten when she reached the spot where the fowls were jostling one another and pecking eagerly at the corn Minerva was scattering on the ground. Minerva was the servant who had lived in the family ever since she was a little girl. She was very fond of Jessie and the two often had long talks about the chickens, the pigeons, the ducks and the turkeys.

“There’s two young turkeys missing,” said Minerva as Jessie appeared. “After I get through here you can go ’long with me if you like and look ’em up. You’re a right good hand for spying ’em out and they do beat everything for wandering.”

“I believe I know where they are,” Jessie told her. “I shouldn’t wonder if they were over there where the mountain cherries grow. I’ve seen them there lots of times.”

“Then that’s where we’ll look for ’em,” said Minerva, scattering another handful of corn. “They’re big enough now not to care much about being with the old ones, and I have to keep an eye on ’em.”

“Have you fed the young chickens yet?” asked Jessie. “How fast they do eat, Minerva. Look at that great piggy rooster driving away that smaller one. I never did like that old yellow fellow, anyhow.”

“He is kind of greedy,” agreed Minerva. “No, I haven’t fed the young chickens. You can mix the meal if you like. Don’t make it too wet like you did last time. Mrs. Speckle is a little droopy; she don’t take her food well at all. She’s such a good layer, I hope there’s nothing wrong with her.”

Jessie moved away to get the meal. Two measures of it she carefully piled up in the tin box which she found in the bin. This she emptied into a pan and then she poured in a little water at a time, stirring it with a spoon at first, and then with her whole hand. She liked the operation, and was so interested in squeezing the wet meal that Minerva finally had to call her.

“If you’re going to help me hunt those turkeys, you’d better hurry with that meal,” she said.

Jessie carried the tin pan to the enclosure where the young chickens were making a great fuss, poking their heads between the slats and peeping anxiously. But their peeping soon stopped as Jessie scattered little dabs of the food on the ground. “Don’t gather the eggs till I come,” she called to Minerva whom she saw searching the nests.

“Obliged to,” returned Minerva, “or there’ll be no time to look up the turkeys. It gets dark so much sooner these days, you know.”

With one swoop of the wooden spoon Jessie swept the rest of the meal into a pile on the ground, set down the pan and joined Minerva. “How many are there to-day?” she asked.

“Ten, so far.”

Jessie climbed upon a box and peered into a corner. “There are two more here,” she said. “Shall I take them?”

“If you’re careful not to break them,” Minerva told her.

Jessie gently lifted one egg at a time and put it in the basket Minerva carried. “That makes a dozen,” she said.

“And here’s another in this nest,” Minerva went on. “Old Posy is laying again, I expect.”

This was the last egg found, and the two left the hen-house. Minerva carried the basket into the house and then she and Jessie started off toward a corner near the garden where the mountain cherries grew, and where many other wild things made a close thicket, so that it was hard to penetrate the middle of the place. But Jessie had been there many a time. It was one of her favorite spots in summer. So now she pressed her body through the tangle of blackberry vines, pokeweed, sumach and laurel bushes to a less crowded part of the thicket. There was a dogwood tree here, and upon its lower branches sat the two turkeys entirely satisfied with the roost they had selected for the night.

“Here they are,” sang out Jessie.

Minerva followed the little girl. “Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “It takes you to find ’em. I believe you know every foot of this place.” She grabbed first one turkey, then another. They set up protesting cries which were of no use whatever, for Minerva held them firmly and carried them home triumphantly under each arm. “It’s too cold for you to be out,” she said, addressing the turkeys. “I should think you’d have better sense. I shouldn’t wonder if we were to have frost to-night, and then where would your toes be?”

“Why, they’d be under them all covered up with feathers,” put in Jessie.

Minerva laughed. “You know more about it than I do, it seems. Well, anyhow, they’d better be in where it’s safe and warm. Young turkeys are delicate. Besides, some crittur might catch them.”

This was not to be denied as Jessie informed the turkeys. “You’re much safer in the hen-house, you two silly things,” she said, “so you ought to be much obliged to us for getting you. I’m sure I shouldn’t want to stay out in the cold and dark all night and have wild beasts get after me. Minerva, that yellow house just this side the bridge must be taken, for there are people living in it. I saw a cat sitting on the porch and there was a little rocking-chair in the garden. Do you suppose it belonged to a little girl?”

“It might. I should say it was very likely to. Little boys don’t usually care for rocking-chairs.”

“I hope it is a nice little girl and that I shall get acquainted with her,” returned Jessie. “Effie Hinsdale is my nearest girl friend and neighbor and she lives across the railroad track. Mother says twice a day is as often as she likes to think of my crossing the track, but when Ezra is there I shouldn’t think she’d mind.”

“I should think she would mind,” said Minerva. “Don’t you see enough of the girls at school?”

“Ye-es,” said Jessie doubtfully, “I suppose I do, but it’s only at recess, you know, for I always hurry home. I was late to-day because 589 was behind time.”

“That’s the four o’clock, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but Ezra always calls her 589.”

“And that’s why you do. I suppose that’s a fairly good reason. There’s your father and Sam coming up the lane. I’ll put up the turkeys and you can open the gate for them.”

Jessie ran down the long avenue of trees which led up to the house, opened the gate and stood there while her father drove in.

“Climb up, Puss,” he said, “and I’ll take you around to the barn. Been a good girl to-day? Missed any lessons?”

“I didn’t know how to spell ‘conscientious,’” Jessie told him, “and two examples weren’t quite right.”

“That’s not so bad. A good many people don’t know how to spell ‘conscientious,’” said her father with a little laugh. “Any demerits?”

“One,” said Jessie a little shamefacedly and quickly changing the subject. “I held the flag for 589,” she said. “Ezra let me.”

“The train was late, I know,” said Mr. Loomis. “I heard the whistle and hoped you were safe across.”

“I wasn’t. Ezra wouldn’t let me go, though there was plenty of time. He said suppose I should fall.”

Her father nodded. “He’s right. Nice old chap, Ezra is. Well, here we are. Run in and tell Minerva that Sam has a basket of peaches in the wagon. They’re the last we’ll get this year.”

“Where did you get them, father?”

“From that tree over in the south field; it’s a late variety, but they will be pretty good for preserves.”

“I’m going to have one before that happens,” said Jessie, running into the kitchen and meeting Sam just as he was bringing in the peaches.

“Work for you to-morrow, Minervy,” he said as he set down the basket.

“That’s so,” returned Minerva. “Well, I don’t mind. Them white peaches makes fine preserves and we haven’t any too many peaches put up this year. Hungry, Sam?”

“You bet,” he replied. “Always am. Seems to me I don’t more’n get one meal down than I’m ready for another.”

“It ain’t quite as bad as that,” returned Minerva. “I’ll have your supper ready in the shake of a sheep’s tail. By the time you’ve done milking, anyway.”

Sam went out with the milk-buckets and Jessie returned to the sitting-room. Her father was at his desk, setting down some accounts; her mother was watering the plants which had lately been brought in and put in the south windows. Jessie stood looking out into the gathering twilight. Everything showed forth duskily. Many of the trees were shedding their leaves. Down by the brook a row of willows looked fantastically like people with big heads and wild hair, Jessie thought. There was one quite small, which seemed very human. Jessie regarded it interestedly for some time before she turned and said, “Mother, what is the little tree down by the brook? the one with a funny head. What’s its name?”

“Pollard Willow,” replied her mother, glancing out of the window toward the place Jessie pointed out.

“Polly Willow,” whispered Jessie to herself. “Polly Willow! What a funny name.”

_CHAPTER II_

_Playmate Polly_

_CHAPTER II_

_Playmate Polly_

It was some time after this that Jessie made the acquaintance of Polly Willow and it came about in a way that Jessie had not expected. It was due in the beginning to 589 which seemed of late to be getting into a habit of tardiness. One morning when Jessie was going to school she missed her good friend Ezra at the door of his little house. A stranger was there, a gruff sort of somebody who cried out sharply: “Get over there quick, sissy. You ain’t no business crossing tracks when trains is coming.”

“There isn’t any train coming,” said Jessie. “I know all about the trains. There isn’t any after the 803 when 411 comes along. The next train is at twelve and the one after at four.”

“Much you know,” replied the man. “I suppose the president of the road has sent you a special message saying he’s just changed the fall schedule. I had my information from Ezra, but I reckon he don’t know. He told me to look out for a train at 8:35.”

“There wasn’t any such train on Friday,” said Jessie.

“Fall schedule hadn’t come into effect. Time changes to-day.”

“Where is Ezra?” asked Jessie, still unbelieving, but by this time safely across the track.

“Took down with rheumatiz. Been bothering him on and off for some time. Now he’s laid up in bed.”

“Dear me, but I am sorry,” said Jessie.

“That don’t cure his aches and pains,” returned the man. “You’d better hustle along, sis. I’ve got to signal to this here train and I can’t stand here all day talking to you.”

Jessie turned away indignantly. Ezra would have asked if she didn’t want to hold the flag when the train went by, and he would not have told her in that rude way to “go along.” She did not like this man at all. She wondered if Ezra would be ill all winter, and then suddenly she thought of what her mother had said; that if anything happened to Ezra, her parents would not feel that they could allow Jessie to take the walk to the Hill School.

However, Ezra and the trains were forgotten when the little girl reached school, for there were several interesting things to take up her thoughts that morning. In the first place, there was a new scholar named Anna Sharp. She had come to live with her aunt in the neighborhood and was going to attend the Hill School. Next Effie Hinsdale whispered that there were four dear new kittens in the barn and that Jessie could have one if she liked. Effie had been given a demerit for whispering, and that had so disturbed Jessie that she missed her geography lesson and had to recite it after school, so altogether there was quite enough to put Ezra out of her mind.

She remembered him before she reached the railroad, and then she determined that she would not pay the least attention to the flagman who was taking Ezra’s place, but that she would run across the tracks without turning her head. She had not resisted the temptation to stop at Effie’s long enough to see the new kittens, and had chosen the gray one, so that it was later than usual when she reached the railroad. Of course 589 must have gone by, for it was the express and was due at four o’clock. There could not be the least danger, thought Jessie. She saw that the flagman had his back to her and was standing looking up the track. She made haste to cross before he could see her, and, in her hurry, she tripped over the rail and her books were scattered in every direction. She picked herself up and was about to gather her books together when she heard the shrill whistle of an approaching train, while from up the track she saw the express rapidly advancing upon her. For a second she stood, numb with fright, and then she leaped across the rails, her heart beating fast. Another moment and the train went flying by. She was safe if her books were not. She saw her geography go careering down the road, her arithmetic lying some distance away, and her reader nowhere to be seen. But books were of no account just then. The child’s whole thought was to get home as quickly as possible. Without looking back once she sped along as fast as she could run, tears coursing down her cheeks and herself so shaken that when she reached home she burst into the sitting-room and flung herself, sobbing, into her mother’s arms.

“Why, my darling, what is the matter?” asked Mrs. Loomis anxiously.

“589 was late and Ezra has the rheumatism and they have changed the time and I tripped on a rail and lost my books. There was a horrid man there, too, and he called me ‘sis.’”

In this rather mixed-up speech her mother recognized that something alarming had really happened. “Never mind, dearie,” she said soothingly. “Wait till you can stop crying and then tell me all about it. Mother has you safe anyhow, hasn’t she?” She cuddled the little girl closely in her lap and in a few minutes Jessie was able to give a better account of what had occurred.

Mrs. Loomis looked very grave as she shook her head. “Thank heaven,” she said, “that you were not so bewildered as to stand still. We didn’t know the winter schedule was in effect. Ezra would have sent us word if he had not been ill. Oh, my child!” She hugged Jessie suddenly to her and after a moment continued, “It is clear to me that it is not safe for you to go to school by yourself. I will see if we can arrange to have Sam take you, and I might be able to spare Minerva to bring you home. You could go as far as the Hinsdales and wait there for her. I should never have an easy moment if you were to go over that road alone. Try to forget this afternoon’s fright, dear child, and go talk to Minerva. I see your father coming.”

Jessie went to Minerva and helped her feed the chickens, almost forgetting in this task, that she had been so frightened. But after supper her father took her on his knee and questioned her about the matter.