Polly of Pebbly Pit | Page 6

you pleasure, and you know
how glad he is to have young people visiting here, rather than having
you leave home to visit others," remarked Mrs. Brewster, slowly
drawing the yarn through a hole in a sock.
"While I washed the dishes, I wondered if he would say anything to
you about the extra work, the three girls will make?" said Polly, trying
to "feel" her mother out.
"That will be his main objection, I think. He had planned for me to visit

my old friends in Denver, this summer, but this new departure will
make it impossible for me to be away from here."
"Oh, Maw, if you want to go away, don't let these girls spoil your
plans!" cried Polly, contritely.
"I really had not thought of my own pleasure in visiting old friends at
Denver, Polly, but I had planned to see about your residence this winter
should you attend school there. I want you to board with a family that
can offer you the proper atmosphere. If this young teacher proves to be
nice, she will know all I needed to find out about the school and a
boarding house, and I will not have to leave my beloved home at all."
"Well, then, it all depends on what Daddy will say!" cried Polly,
joyously. "I do wish he'd hurry in."
"He must have known your wishes, Polly; I see him coming towards
the house," laughed Mrs. Brewster.
Polly leaned over the hand-rail of the porch to watch her father coming
nearer and nearer. Then, when she thought he was in hailing distance,
she shouted:
"Daddy! Do hurry and hear the news--came in my letter!" And the
missive was waved back and forth to urge the rancher to greater speed.
Mr. Brewster reached the porch and whipped off his wide sombrero to
mop his warm forehead. "Well, Maw, did Poll tell you about Noddy?
Ah tell you! Our Polly is some doctor, all right!"
As the rancher chuckled over his words, Polly felt she had been guilty
of neglect, for she had quite forgotten to ask how Noddy was. Mrs.
Brewster smiled as she continued her darning.
"Who's with Noddy now--did you give Jeb careful instructions, Paw?"
anxiously queried Polly.
"Noddy's sleeping as peacefully as a babe, so you-all needn't worry any

more. Now tell me all about the wonderful letter."
"Sam, do you remember that golden-haired young lady from Denver,
who took Miss Shalp's place at Bear Forks school for a few months?"
quickly asked Mrs. Brewster.
The note of anxiety in the query was not overlooked by the rancher, but
he answered indifferently--to all appearances:
"Shore thing, wife. Could any one forget such a nice girl in a hurry?"
"Well, Sam, the letter's from her--Anne Stewart is her name."
"Don't tell him what! Let me read it, Maw!" cried Polly.
So the letter was read again and the moment it was concluded Polly and
Mrs. Brewster looked fearfully at Mr. Brewster, for they both expected
violent objections from him.
But the rancher stood boring a hole with the toe of his boot down
through the soft grass sod, while he seemed to study the cobbler's
handiwork. After a few moments of tense silence, he looked up and
laughed heartily.
"Who'd have thought it, Mary? You, young looking enough to pass for
a blushing bride but having a son old enough to think of a sweet-heart.
And little Poll here, trying to bamboozle us to let her go away to school.
Ah, well!"
Polly gazed from father to mother and back again. "What has John got
to do with this letter? Gracious, he isn't thinking of a wife, I hope!"
Her parents laughed at her perplexity, and Mr. Brewster explained
satisfactorily to her question:
"I was thinking of the four pretty girls we'd have at the ranch all
summer, if John comes home to choose one of them."
"Oh, Daddy! Then you'll have them come?" cried Polly, at the same

time jumping at her father to throw her arms about his neck.
"On one condition--yes. That is: a gal to do the chores for Maw, so she
can look after such a handful of trouble as three new ready-made
daughters will make for her."
"A hired girl! Why, Sam, how you talk. What could I ever do with help
in such a small house? Besides, Anne Stewart says they will help with
the work," objected Mrs. Brewster.
"That's my only condition! You're not going to slave for a lot of city
girls if I know it. Why, they won't know how to hold a kitchen knife, let
alone cook for the family," replied Mr. Brewster.
"I'll agree at once, Sam, because I know there isn't a girl or woman to
hire within fifty miles of Oak Creek," laughed