Polly | Page 2

far as human life was concerned; and although the smoke did ascend straight up from the kitchen chimney, a vagrant or a tramp might have been tempted to enter the house by the open hall door, were it not protected by the lazy dogs.
Up, however, by the hedge, at the other side of the kitchen garden, could be heard just then the crackle of a bough, the rustle of a dress, and a short, smothered, impatient exclamation. And had anyone peered very close they would have seen lying flat in the long grasses a tall, slender, half-grown girl, with dark eyes and rosy cheeks, and tangled curly rebellious locks. She had one arm raised, and was drawing herself deliberately an inch at a time along the smooth grass. Several birds had taken refuge in this fragrant hedge of hawthorn and wild roses. They were talking to one another, keeping up a perpetual chatter; but whenever the girl stirred a twig, or disturbed a branch, they stopped, looking around them in alarm, but none of them as yet seeing the prone, slim figure, which was, indeed, almost covered by the grasses. Perfect stillness once more--the birds resumed their conversation, and the girl made another slight movement forward. This time she disturbed no twig, and interrupted none of the bird gossip. She was near, very near, a tempting green bough, and on the bough sat two full-grown lovely thrushes; they were not singing, but were holding a very gentle and affectionate conversation, sitting close together, and looking at one another out of their bright eyes, and now and then kissing each other with that loving little peck which means a great deal in bird life.
The girl felt her heart beating with excitement--the birds were within a few inches of her--she could see their breasts heaving as they talked. Her own eyes were as bright as theirs with excitement; she got quite under them, made a sudden upward, dexterous movement, and laid a warm, detaining hand on each thrush. The deed was done--the little prisoners were secured. She gave a low laugh of ecstasy, and sitting upright in the long grass, began gently to fondle her prey, cooing as she talked to them, and trying to coax the terrified little prisoners to accept some kisses from her dainty red lips.
"Poll! Where's Polly Parrot?--Poll--Poll--Poll!" came a chorus of voices. "Poll, you're wanted at the house this minute. Where are you hiding?--You're wanted at home this minute! Polly Parrot--where are you, Polly?"
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed the girl under her breath; "then I must let you go, darlings, and I never, never had two of you in my arms at the same moment before. It's always so. I'm always interrupted when I'm enjoying ecstasy. Well, good-by, sweets. Be happy--bless you, darlings!"
She blew a kiss to the released and delighted thrushes, and stood upright, looking very lanky and cross and disreputable, with bits of grass and twig sticking in her hair, and messing and staining her faded, washed cotton frock.
"Now, what are you up to, you scamps?--can't you let a body be?"
"Oh, Polly!"
Two little figures came tumbling down the gravel walk at the other side of the wire fence. They were hot and panting, and both destitute of hats.
"Polly, you're wanted at the house. Helen says so; there's a b-b-baby come. Polly Perkins--Poll Parrot, you'd better come home at once, there's a new b-b-baby just come!"
"A what?" said Polly. She vaulted the dyke, cleared the fence, and kneeling on the ground beside her two excited, panting little brothers, flung a hot, detaining arm round each.
"A baby! it isn't true, Bunny? it isn't true, Bob? A real live baby? Not a doll! a baby that will scream and wriggle up its face! But it can't be. Oh, heavenly! oh, delicious! But it can't be true, it can't! You're always making up stories, Bunny!"
"Not this time," said Bunny. "You tell her, Bob--she'll believe you. I heard it yelling--oh, didn't it yell, just! And Helen came, and said to send Polly in. Helen was crying, I don't know what about, and she said you were to go in at once. Why, what is the matter, Poll Parrot?"
"Nothing," said Polly, "only you might have told me about Helen crying before. Helen never cries unless there's something perfectly awful going to happen. Stay out in the garden, you two boys--make yourselves sick with gooseberries, if you like, only don't come near the house, and don't make the tiniest bit of noise. A new baby--and Helen crying! But mother--I'll find out what it means from mother!"
Polly had long legs, and they bore her quickly in a swift race or canter to the house. When she approached the porch the dogs all got up in a body to meet her; there were seven or eight