Read Ebook: Princess Polly At Play by Brooks Amy

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Ebook has 1061 lines and 33993 words, and 22 pages

Gwen Harcourt had not spoken truthfully when she had said that she would not wish to go to Cliffmore. Indeed, that very morning she had used her unpleasant method in an effort to coax her mother to go to Cliffmore, and for the first time in her little life, it had not worked.

She had heard from Polly, Rose, and Sprite of the pleasure that they had enjoyed there, and she had at once decided that no other place could be as delightful.

"I guess I can go there as well as they can," she had whispered to herself, and then, running up to the big living room she had first asked, then coaxed, and there, as a final effort, had screamed for a half hour. Mrs. Harcourt would, as usual, have quickly agreed at once to spend the Summer as Gwen wished, but it happened that other plans already made, rendered it impossible. The silly woman offered everything that she could think of to pacify Gwen, but Gwen declared that nothing would make up to her for the refusal to go to Cliffmore.

Then when she found her screaming wholly useless, she dried her eyes, and rushed out and down the avenue to tell Polly and Rose that she would not care to go there.

If she had waited a day longer to tell them it would have been as well, because Mrs. Harcourt, lest the disappointment might be too hard for Gwen, had, at great inconvenience, changed her plans, and on the following day she told Gwen that Cliffmore would be their summer home.

Gwen did not rush out this time to tell the news.

Had she not just said that she would not care to go there?

"I'll say nothing about it, and when they get to Cliffmore, they'll be s'prised to find me there, but I'll act as if I'd known all along that I'd be there," thought Gwen.

Mrs. Harcourt and Gwen went the next day, and thus it happened that when the "Dolphin" sailed up to the pier, the first person that Rose and Polly saw was Gwen, sitting high on the top of a tall post! It was a most successful surprise.

"Hello!" she cried, with impish laughter, "I got here 'fore you did!"

"Why so you did," Polly replied. "When did you come?"

"Oh, I've been here some time," she said, laughing again.

"Well, you've not been here a month, Gwen Harcourt!" said Rose. "It was only three days ago that you were in Avondale, and you said then that you'd not care to go to Cliffmore!"

Of course Sprite had come to meet them, and as the three walked up the pier they saw that Gwen made no attempt to follow.

She wished them to know that she was at Cliffmore, but having enjoyed their look of surprise, she preferred to keep her position on the post.

It was so conspicuous that she knew that everyone coming up from the boats would surely see her, and beside that pleasure, she could stare at all the arrivals. Oh yes, her perch on the post delighted her.

Not satisfied with staring at the people, she commenced to make remarks about them as they passed. As her remarks were largely directed at their clothes, they were not much pleased.

"Oh, what big feet!" she said, when a big woman passed her, and to another she said: "What a funny hat."

A fat man turned to frown at her when she said: "My! He must weigh a ton," and a girl with long red braids blushed hotly when Gwen cried:

"Red! Red! Fire! Fire!"

Her mother would have thought any other child uncouth and ill-bred, if she did any one of the many outrageous things that Gwen was always doing. In Gwen she thought it bright and smart, and Gwen held the same opinion, but a young sailor, happening along just in time to hear her say something about a Jack Tar, that was not quite pleasing, stopped for an instant, and looked into her bold, blue eyes.

"Do you know what you need, you little Monkey?" he cried. "You need to have someone give you a big ducking, and then you'd learn not to be so smart."

Gwen was too frightened to speak. She thought the sailor meant to give her the ducking that he said she needed, and she turned so pale that he let go his hold upon her, leaving her still sitting upon the post, but as he turned to go he shook his finger at her.

"Not another word, sissy, or someone'll duck you, if I don't," he said.

A long time she sat motionless upon the post until not only the sailor, but all of the people had left the pier. Then, looking cautiously around to learn if anyone was near, she slipped to the ground, and ran at top speed toward the hotel where she told a most remarkable tale of the sailor's rudeness to her, winding up by telling that he had been so mean as to duck her.

"My dear little Gwen!" said her fond mamma.

"Her serge frock seems rather dry for one that has just been plunged into the water," said a lady who sat near them on the piazza.

"Oh, look at her shoes! They're dry too!" cried a small boy. "Say! When did you get your ducking?"

"You stop laughing, Max Deland!" cried Gwen. "I guess I could tell whether he ducked me or not better than you could, for you weren't there!"

Mrs. Harcourt rose quickly, and taking Gwen by the hand, left the piazza, and went up to her room.

"Strange that any woman would be so foolish as to credit a yarn like that even if it is her own child that tells it," said the lady who had spoken of the dry frock that Gwen declared had just been plunged into water.

"Yes, it is strange, but I've known other women who were nearly as blind to their children's faults," her friend replied.

"The child is really pretty, but so bold, and pert that although she arrived less than a week ago, there is not a guest at this hotel who does not feel relieved when she leaves the piazza. Only think," the lady continued, "she was out here this morning, sitting in that big chair that old Mr. Pendleton likes to have. He's ill, and Gwen knew that he came out expecting to sit in it, but she looked up at him, and did not stir. 'Gwen, dear,' Mrs. Harcourt said; 'I think Mr. Pendleton would like that chair.' 'Well, I like it, and I'm going to keep it,' Gwen said, swinging her legs, and settling back in the chair. 'You really musn't mind her,' Mrs. Harcourt said.

"'I don't intend to,' he said, and Mrs. Harcourt looked as if she wondered what he meant."

WHO WAS IT

Captain Seaford sitting in the sun, and mending nets, was aware that something was causing great, and unusual excitement in his house.

He sat just outside the door, but the sound of hurried footsteps, of eager conversation, of furniture being moved about, betokened something disturbing in the atmosphere.

"Comp'ny coming, or some kind o' storm brewing!" he muttered with a knowing wink, although no one was near to see the comical grimace.

Mrs. Seaford, usually calm and cheerful, now appeared in the doorway, a frown puckering her forehead, and a troubled look in her eyes.

"I've been over to the village," she said, "and while I've been gone, someone has been through the house, opened every drawer, pulled out the contents and strewn them on the floor, and made a general mess that I've worked an hour to clear up. Have you noticed anyone around the place?"

"Haven't seen a soul," declared the Captain, "and I've been busy right here since before you went out.

"Seems to me I did hear someone moving about at one time, but I'm not even sure of that."

"Well, whoever it was managed to move about enough to make work for me to clear up," Mrs. Seaford said.

"There's only one door to this house so how could anyone get out without passing me? You must surely be mistaken."

"The person, whoever it was, didn't care to pass you coming in, or going out of the house, so climbed through the window. On his way out, he knocked some plants from the window-sill. Nothing has been stolen, so I can't see the object in ransacking the house."

"'Taint poss'ble you're nervous, and imagine someone's been in, is it?" he asked, anxiously scanning her face.

"Imagine?" Mrs. Seaford said. "Well, come in, and see what you think. I've cleared the worst of it, but here's enough left to convince you."

He dropped the net on the sand, and went in. One look was enough.

It remained a mystery. Who would care to disturb the contents of the odd dwelling of the Seafords? Not a thief, surely, for it was well known that while the genial Captain had, at one time, been well to do, he had, for the past few years, had a struggle for existence. The old ship's hulk, inverted, and furnished for a home, held but one treasure, love, and that, priceless as it was, could not be stolen.

Who was the intruder? How had he come, and how had he vanished?

Dwellers at Cliffmore talked of it, at their homes, at church, and on the beach, but no one could give the slightest clue that might help in detecting the intruder.

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