Let Polly do it

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Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Under Way.11

II. Business Booms . . . .25

Chapter One

P olly,” said Miss Henrietta Stebbins, standing at the top of the steps under the portico, "'do you have to stay right out there in front? Couldn’t you clean that disreputable old car just as well somewhere at the back of the house?”

Polly Stebbins stepped around from the other side of the Ford. She wore a working blouse and slacks and a jaunty cap on her boyish bob, and she held a paint pot in her hand.

*Tm almost through, Aunt Retta,” she called. "Don’t come too near the edge of the steps, will

•\ j j

you?

Ever since Miss Henrietta had broken her hip last spring, Polly and Aunt Nell had been in constant terror lest she fall again, for Miss Henrietta had al¬ ii ways been active and independent, and never inclined to accept help. She was still stately, even on crutches, thought Polly, looking up at the tall, aristocratic fig¬ ure under the portico.

Miss Henrietta, on her part, eyed the slacks and the dingy Ford dubiously from the top of the steps. Nobody in the world but Polly could have made Miss Henrietta tolerate such things for a moment in front of the dignified old Stebbins mansion, but Polly, ever since the day nine years ago when she and her sister Debby had come to Bellport to live with their greataunts, had always known how to wheedle Aunt Retta.

"Has the mail come?” said Miss Henrietta, disre¬ garding the slacks for the time being.

"No, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, "HI bring it in when it does.”

As soon as she saw that Miss Henrietta was safely through the screen door again, Polly went around to the other side of the Ford, and recommenced touching up the rusty spots with the black paint. It really was a disreputable vehicle, admitted Polly to herself, but then, it had cost only ten dollars and it would serve her purpose nicely. She had already made five dollars since she bought it, and now she was going to enlarge her business. It was time, by the way, that Zab Eaton brought back those cards which he was printing for her. Polly looked up from her work long enough to glance in the direction of the Eatons’ house, which stood just beyond the Stebbins mansion. Zab, however, was nowhere to be seen. Then she heard approaching footsteps on the side¬ walk behind her and turned quickly. It was not Zab, however, but her tall cousin, George Jones, who was coming up the hill from the little town, very gay and debonair in faultless yachting clothes.

"Well, whatever blew you in here again?” called Polly cheerfully. "I thought you were at Bar Harbor by this time.”

'Tve been becalmed up the coast,” said George, "but there's a spanking breeze now, and I thought I’d just run back for a day. Want to go sailing?”

Polly, paint pot still in hand, regarded her hand¬ some cousin. George did have a wonderful eighteen-footer.

"No,” she said, after a moment’s consideration, "I can’t. I’ve got too much to do.” And she turned to the Ford again and resumed her painting.

"But look here, Polly,” said George earnestly, "I came all the way back from Rockland just to take you out.”

"Thanks a lot,” replied Polly promptly. "You al¬ ways were a goose. Besides, I told Ned Abbott I couldn’t go out in his motorboat today, and he might see us.” And she looked up long enough to grin at her cousin.

"Is that dumbbell hanging around again?” said George, frowning a little.

"Yes,” replied Polly indifferently.

Polly’s indifference was part of her charm, thought George, looking at his cousin. She certainly was not pretty, as Debby had been when she was seventeen. In the first place, Polly was too thin, including her face, with its ridiculous tip-tilted nose. Then her eyes were almost too black and sharp for comfort. What the deuce was it that made her so irresistible? Her teeth were fine, to be sure, when she smiled that funny little crooked smile of hers. Perhaps it was the smile, which was unlike any other that George had ever seen, and her zest for a good time with anybody —anybody, that was, who was not sentimental! Polly never would be sentimental.

"Oh, by the way,” she said, looking up suddenly from the Ford, "I almost forgot—I have that five dollars for you.”

r 7 don’t want the five dollars back,” asserted George at once.

"Well, you’re going to get it,” retorted Polly. "I’m awfully obliged for the loan, though. I couldn’t have paid the whole amount down on the Ford with¬ out it. But I’ve sold two kittens, and now I have the cash. Come on in and I’ll give it to you.” And she put down the paint pot, and walked around the Ford to the gate.

"But I say,” protested George, making no move to follow Polly, "I don’t want that money. I think it’s bully of you to start in to-”

"Sh!” said Polly, looking quickly behind her. ' You’re not to breathe a word of that aloud, you know. I’m sorry now that I let you in on it. Nobody is to know a thing about it until next fall.”

"All right,” said George, "Fm mum. But all the same I-”

"If you’re so interested in the business, come on in and see the kittens,” said Polly, holding open the gate. And quite against his will, George followed Polly up the walk and into the house.

No one, not even the happy-go-lucky George, ever came into the Stebbins mansion without feel¬ ing a sense of its beauty and dignity. The Sheratons and Heppelwhites and Chippendales that filled the high-studded old rooms, the treasures on wall and shelf and cabinet, that long ago had come straight from the Orient in Great-grandfather Stebbins’ clip¬ per ship—all contributed to make the Stebbins man¬ sion seem, what in truth it was, the most stately and rich of all the fine old houses of Bellport.

But today George, as he followed Polly into the hall, gave slight attention to the beauties of the house. He was hoping that he should not meet Aunt Retta. Aunt Retta had a way of admonishing George when¬ ever she saw him, and George had been thoroughly admonished less than a week ago. He glanced a little nervously into the drawing-room as they went by, but the only face to be seen was that of beautiful

Great-grandmother Stebbins in the portrait over the mantel, who had for so many years looked down on the old room and filled it with a lovely presence. Rarely did one of her descendants go by the door of the drawing-room without glancing in for a mo¬ ment at Great-grandmother.

Polly, however, looked neither to the right nor the left as she led the way through the hall and the big empty kitchen to the shed, stopping only long enough to pick up a pan of milk from the kitchen table.

"I have quite a lot of them,” she said, opening the door, "and I know where I can get three more.”

"Great guns!” said George, for as soon as they stepped into the shed a whirlwind of fluffy kittens came rushing from every direction, their fuzzy little pointed tails sticking straight up in the air. Polly, it seemed, was also irresistible to cats. Putting the pan of milk on the floor, she knelt down among the crowd¬ ing kittens, helping the smaller ones to find a place at the edge, and restraining the greedy from getting into the pan.

"I never could have collected so many without the Ford,” said Polly, regarding them with satisfaction. "There are heaps of tourists around this summer. I shall put a sign on the front gate, saying Angora Kittens for Sale ”

"What about Aunt Retta?” suggested George, doubtfully.

"Oh, I’ll manage her,” Polly answered easily.

*'Besides, I don’t see how you’ll make enough money to amount to much, even if you sell all the cats,” said George.

"I’m going to do other things too, Wet Blanket,” Polly was crushing. "All the things in Bellport that people hate to do for themselves.”

"What do you mean?” George asked.

"Oh, everybody has something to do that gives them the fidgets. But I shan’t mind it if they’ll pay me.”

"For instance?” George insisted.

"Well*” Polly explained, "old Mrs. Brown out on the Thomaston road has a big bagful of worsted that she needs to have untangled. And Alice Crane has to play cribbage every day with her grandfather and let him beat, and she gets awfully tired of it.”

While she was speaking Polly had walked across the shed, and taken down a broken bean-pot from a dusty shelf. Out of it she drew a five dollar bill.

"Do you keep your cash lying around loose like that for anybody to pick up?” said George.

"Nobody would ever look for money in a shed, and it says 'EXPLOSIVE’ on it.” Polly turned the bean-pot around, so that George could see the label, as she put it back on the shelf. "Besides,” she added, her black eyes on her cousin, "it’s better to keep money *wywhere than to spend every cent you’ve got on yachting caps and flannels. Come, take your five dollars, Good-for-Nothing. I’m awfully obliged, but you’ll need it yourself before long.” Then, as George still hesitated, "If you don’t, I shall call Aunt Retta, and tell her you are here!”

It certainly beat the Dutch, thought George, as he reluctantly put the bill in his pocket, how Polly al¬ ways guessed just what was in your mind.

"Come on,” she said, pushing away the kittens, who had finished the milk and wanted to follow her. And she opened the door just wide enough for George and herself to slip through.

"What’s that?” asked George, as they stepped from the kitchen into the hall.

Polly grinned. There was the unmistakable sound of crutches upon the stair, and in a moment Miss Henrietta came around the newel post, attended by little Aunt Nell, who never allowed her sister to go up and down stairs alone.

"Why, George!” said Aunt Retta, standing still in the hall, and looking in astonishment from under her level brows. "Where did you come from? We thought you were on the way to Frenchman’s Bay.” Then she turned toward the drawing-room, with Aunt Nell still at her side. "Come in here,” she admonished George, "I want to talk to you.”

George looked around at Polly with a wry face over his shoulder, as he followed his aunts through the drawing-room door, and beckoned to her with pleading finger behind his back. But Polly only laughed.

"I’ve got too much to do, Georgy-Porgy,” she said. "See you later.”

Once outside, Polly stood for a moment under the portico, and looked across at the Eatons’. She fan¬ cied that she had caught sight of Zab’s blue overalls disappearing into the garage. Poor Zab, he had cer¬ tainly had a stroke of ill luck, and Polly was genu¬ inely sorry for her old playmate. He had wanted so much to go to the agricultural school, and had tried so hard for that scholarship. Polly could not get out of her mind how his funny freckled face had looked last week when he told her that he had missed out on the scholarship. He did not say that he would have to give up going to the school, but Polly had guessed it, for she knew that the Eatons had recently lost a good deal of money. She caught her breath a little as she thought of how she would feel if she had to give up her plans for the fall. Whatever would she do, if she found that she could not go to college in September! Polly had graduated from the Acad¬ emy in June, and was looking forward to college, and the chance to get out into the world, with an almost fierce desire. It seemed to her that she could hardly wait for the fall to come, and the great adven¬ ture to begin. Life at the Stebbins mansion with the aunts was not zestful, and Polly was without question, full of zest.

As she stood under the portico, looking off through the elms over the little town below, with the familiar river and woods and meadows beyond, all the quiet beauty of the scene was lost upon Polly, and she wished for a moment that she could throw a stone at the view and smash it. What would she not give to be Debby—away from it all, in Florence, Naples, Rome? Debby—it always made Polly a bit wistful to think of her sister, for the warmest place in Pol¬ ly’s heart was still kept for Debby, although it was four years since she and Eric had been married and had sailed away, to the work which had kept Eric so closely in Italy. More than once they had hoped and planned to come back for a visit, but always some¬ thing had interfered, and now, with little Eleanor, traveling was even more of a problem. But at last they were really coming home for a whole winter at the Stebbins mansion, where Eric would do some writ¬ ing, and Debby would keep Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell company while Polly went away to college. It might even be a little hard to go, when the time came, thought Polly, if Debby were there. But Sanbornville was only thirty miles away and there would be week-ends.

They were looking daily now for the letter that should tell the date of sailing. How good it would be not to have to depend upon letters any more! For months writing to Debby had been difficult, be¬ cause there was so much that could not be mentioned, for Aunt Retta had decided that, since Debby was so soon to come home, it would be best not to worry her about the broken hip, or the doctor’s warning to Aunt Nell that she must go up and down the long stairs as little as possible. Sometimes her aunts seemed to her so frail that Polly was a little fright¬ ened, but Debby would be here in a few weeks, and then at last they could talk it all over.

Polly’s rare mood of thought was interrupted by the reappearance of the blue overalls at the door of the Eatons’ garage. She whistled the particular call which she and Zab had used ever since they were children, and the figure in the overalls turned at once, and with a wave of the hand came loping across the lawn, taking the low hedge at a bound. For nine years, ever since Polly had first come to Bellport to live, Zab had seldom failed to respond faithfully to that whistle, or to do Polly’s bidding, whatever it might be. She walked slowly down the path, and by the time she reached the car, Zab was there before her, lanky and awkward, his red hair erect and rum¬ pled, his freckled face moist with his hurry.

"Have you done the cards?” demanded Polly at once.

"Yes,” said Zab, putting his hand in the large pocket of his overalls, "I was just coming over with them.” And he handed Polly a thick package, bound with an elastic.

She ran a critical eye down the card.

Does it make you weep to peel your onions for dinner?

Let Polly do it!_ for 10 <f.

Do you like to see your dog all clean and fluffy?

Let Polly do it!_ for a quarter

Does your child have to go to the dentist?

Let Polly do it!_for half a dollar

When she had read to the bottom of the card Polly looked up and smiled.

"That’s great, Zabbie,” she said. "You’re a good printer. Thanks a lot.” And Zab, for whom Polly’s praise was rare, beamed all over his round red face. "The next time you go down to the village,” she added, handing back half the cards, "would you mind just getting them put around in the drug store and the Souvenir Shoppe and the market, or any¬ where else where people will see them, you know.” Then Polly picked up her paint brush again, and went to work on the Ford.

"What are you going to do with all the money you earn?” enquired Zab, watching her, anxious, as al¬ ways, to prolong their interview.

"Oh, take care of my old age,” said Polly, with a laugh.

"You won’t have to do that, Polly,” said Zab looking seriously at her, "for we shall be married, and I shall be taking care of you.”

"Don’t be a blithering idiot!” said Polly, without lifting her eyes from her paint brush.

"But we are going to be married sometime, you know, Polly,” went on Zab earnestly.

Polly finished the particular spot on which she was working. Then she glanced up carelessly.

"Look in the box, will you, like a good child,” she said, flourishing her brush toward the gate, "and see if there’s any mail.”

"No, there isn’t,” said Zab, dropping the cover of the mail box with a bang. "And I wish, Polly, you wouldn’t call me that any more.”

"Well, don’t act like one then,” retorted Polly.

Just then the screen door opened, and George ap¬ peared, running down the steps like a boy let out of school. He scowled a little at Zab, with a brief hello; then he turned to Polly.

"Got off easy this time,” he said, glancing back at the drawing-room window. Then, observing the car, "I say, that begins to look flossie,” he added.

"Yes,” agreed Polly, squinting at it, her head on one side. Then she grinned. "Good for you, Georgy- Porgy,” she said. "Flossie Ford —that’s it!”

And they both laughed, while Zab still stood awk¬ wardly by.

Polly looked up through the tree tops, where puffy white clouds were sailing over on a fresh west wind.

It really was a beautiful day, and the eighteen-footer was a dream in a west wind.

'Til go out with you for an hour, Georgy-Porgy,” she announced. "Want to come too, Zabbie? ,, she added, her black eyes full of mischief, as she saw George’s expression.

"I can’t,” said Zab doggedly. "I’ve got to go to Rockland with Mother.”

"Oh,” said Polly cheerfully, "then you can stop at the dairy farm and get those kittens on the way back. Mrs. Daggett said I could have them today. Hop in, Georgy. We’ll go down in Flossie. Just put my sweater on the back seat.” And hastily wiping her hands on the paint rag, Polly slid in behind the wheel, and started the engine. "Oh, goodness, there’s the paint pot!” she exclaimed, "Aunt Retta’ll have a fit. Zab,” she called, leaning from the window, as the car started with a jerk, "just put the paint away for me, will you, there’s a good—boy. And don’t forget the kittens.”

Then Flossie Ford rattled off down the hill under the elms.

Chapter Two

P olly, paint brush in hand, stood before Debby’s old easel, which she had set out upon the grass behind the shed, and regarded her work. On the easel was a large sign-board, with a white background, on which Polly was carefully filling in, in black, the letters which had been outlined in pencil. Presently she stepped back and squinted for a moment at the sign. Then, with a shake of her boyish bob and a hitch to her white slacks, she went diligently to work again on the last letter. She had almost finished it when her eye was caught by something over the top of the sign, and she stopped long enough to wave.

"Hello, Zabbie,” she called to the figure which at that moment emerged from the Eatons’ garage, wheel¬ ing a lawn-mower. "Don’t begin to cut the grass now. I shall want you to help me in a few minutes.” At the sound of Polly’s voice, Zab at once dropped the handle of the lawn-mower, and came across into the Stebbins' yard.

"Gee-whiz, Polly, 5 ’ he said, standing beside her, and looking at the sign, "you’ve done a dandy job. But I don’t see how you can put that on the gate.”

"It’s not going on the gate, stupid,” said Polly, giving a final touch to the E. "It’s going on a tree up the road. I decided that would be simpler.”

"Oh,” said Zab, re-reading the sign.

SLOW DOWN!

YOU ARE APPROACHING POLLY’S CATS

and

THE FAMOUS OLD STEBBINS MANSION STOP—LOOK—COME IN!

TAKE HOME THE FLUFFIEST KITTEN IN

MAINE!

"Won’t your aunt make a fuss about it?” said Zab, who stood in awe of Polly’s relations, especially Miss Henrietta.

"No,” said Polly. "She will be spared, by not see¬ ing it. Do you mind carrying the sign out to Flos¬ sie, while I get the hammer and nails? We’ll put it up right away. Hold it away from you now—yes, like that—and be careful not to smooch it when you set it in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.” And Polly vanished into the shed.

Zab, carrying the sign awkwardly in front of him, strode along the side of the Stebbins mansion toward the front gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he was sure that he saw an aunt sitting by the window of the south parlor sewing, but whichever it was, she fortunately did not look up, and Zab and the sign reached Flossie Ford in safety. A moment later they were joined by Polly, carrying a small step-ladder, as well as the hammer and nails. She had stopped long enough to put a canvas hat on the boyish bob and a gay kerchief at the neck of her white blouse, and Zab thought that he had never seen her look so jaunty and delightful. She tied the ladder to the running board, and slid in beside Zab.

"We’ll just go up to the big oak,” said Polly, "and you can nail the sign there.”

The ride was all too short for Zab, who was not often taken out in Flossie. In less than five minutes Polly had drawn the car to the side of the road by the big oak, and Zab was standing on the top of the ladder, hammering the sign to the tree, while Polly handed up the nails.

"It looks very well,” she said, regarding it critically, as Zab descended from the ladder. "Thanks, Zabbie.”

"Let’s go for a ride,” suggested Zab, as they got back into the car.

"No,” said Polly, backing Flossie around, "I haven’t time.

"Oh, but Polly, 5 ’ protested Zab, "we haven’t been anywhere for a long time.”

"I can’t today,” said Polly, with decision. "I’ve got to go and fix Mrs. Robinson’s liver. They always have it on Thursday. Besides, you’ve got to mow the lawn.” And in another minute Polly had drawn Flossie up by the Eatons’ gate, and was waiting for Zab to get out. "And would you mind, Zabbie, put¬ ting the ladder away in the shed? You are rather a nice boy,” she added, smiling at him, as he obediently untied the ladder.

"When are you coming back?” he said, stirred by the smile. "It’s awfully dull around here when you’re away, Polly.” And he looked at her with disconcert¬ ing earnestness.

"Oh, I don’t know,” said Polly indifferently, start¬ ing the engine again. Something would have to be done about Zabbie. He was getting altogether too sentimental. Nevertheless, she waved her hand out of the window without looking around, as she slid off down the hill.

In a moment she had dismissed him from her mind, and had begun to think about cats, counting up the kittens that had already been promised to her, and busily figuring out how many slats it would take to make the little crates when they had to be shipped. It was not until, the liver having been prepared, she walked out of the Robinsons’ gate again, with a quar¬ ter in her pocket, and opened the door of Flossie, that she thought about Zab again. Poor Zabbie, should she go back and get him and take him for a ride? There was still time before supper to go out on the Bascom Bay road, and see if the kittens at the red farmhouse were really worth collecting. No, Polly decided, she would not take Zab. In his pres¬ ent frame of mind, he would have to be snubbed. And before the end of the afternoon she was, indeed, glad of her decision.

In another minute she had turned the car, and was rattling along the road to Bascom Bay. It was the end of a clear, beautiful June day, and Polly sniffed the sweetness of the summer afternoon through the open window with real delight. As a rule her busy, practical mind gave little attention to natural beauty. But it was a lovely country, thought Polly, looking off from the top of the hill across the roll¬ ing green fields, and the pastures pink with wild roses. Far away beyond them, and the distant line of dark little spruces, she could just see a narrow blue strip of open ocean. Somewhere out there on that blue were George and the eighteen-footer. Oh, but it must be fun to be able to sail away and away, without any thought of coming back!

Well, in a little over two months she, too, would be off to freedom and adventure—not very far, to be sure, but away from Bellport anyway. Polly drew a long breath and stepped on the accelerator, so that the old car fairly flew to the top of the next hill. Straight ahead was the red farmhouse, but Polly suddenly stopped the car and looked off to the right, where the silo and dairy barns of the Daggett farm gleamed in the sunny field. A girl in a bright red dress was running like mad across a distant pas¬ ture, pursued by a cow. Polly watched with interest. It must be that foolish Ethel Daggett, who had just come to live with her uncle, and she probably thought it was a bull. Polly grinned, and, seeing that the girl was safely over the fence, started Flossie again.

The kittens at the red farmhouse proved adorable. In less than ten minutes Polly had made a brisk nego¬ tiation for them with the woman in the kitchen, and was carrying them off down the walk, a bunch of golden yellow under each arm, to the car.

"Don’t forget to let me know if you have some more in the fall,” she called back, as she slammed the door of Flossie on the kittens. And the woman, stand¬ ing with her hands folded under her apron, and looking at the retreating slacks, said to herself that that was a smart and pleasant young one, in spite of her outlandish rig.

As she drove off down the road toward home, Polly thought that she had never in her life seen such lively and investigating kittens. They did not seem in the least frightened by this amazing break in their quiet kittenhood. They clambered all over the car, press¬ ing their little wet noses against the windows, jumping from the cushions to the top of the seat, and from there to Polly’s shoulders. Finally one of them jumped up on the wheel. Polly, laughing, stopped the car for a moment, in order to drop them both into the back again. As she did so, she noticed another car just ahead, stalled by the roadside. It was a very neat Chevrolet runabout, and a nice looking young man was standing beside it, anxiously examining its inner workings. Without a moment’s hesitation, Polly opened the door of Flossie and jumped out.

"Are you having engine trouble?” she enquired, walking toward the Chevrolet. "Can I help?”

The young man glanced up in surprise. But his eyes were instantly fastened on something behind Polly.

"Hi, there!” he called. "Look out for your cats!”

Polly swung around, and there, to be sure, were her precious kittens, just on the point of jumping from the running-board to the road. She had failed to close the door.

"Oh, dash it all!” said Polly, lunging after the kit¬ tens.

But they were too quick for her, and in a moment their fluffy little tails were vanishing under the snake fence by the side of the road, into the field beyond. In a flash Polly was through the fence, with the kit¬ tens already far ahead of her, frisking away over the green, in evident joy that life had really begun at last. The young man, meanwhile, had come through the fence farther along the road.

"Circle around behind them,” he shouted to Polly, "and I’ll try to head them off. But don’t let them get into that patch of corn, or we’re lost.”

Then began an absorbing game around the field. Polly and the young man dodged back and forth on different sides of the kittens, coaxing and shoo¬ ing and vainly clutching, but always just before the four hands came within grasping distance, away went the two fluffy little yellow balls again, capering in opposite directions among the buttercups, and the process had to be begun all over.

It was in a tangle of raspberry bushes by the fence that the runaways were finally cornered, Polly crawl¬ ing in on one side, and the young man on the other. A moment later they were confronting one an¬ other, laughing and dishevelled, each with a strug¬ gling kitten, and Polly had her first really good look at the young man. She found him very pleasant indeed, although there was, at first sight, nothing especially distinctive about him. He was neither very tall nor very short, very dark nor very fair, but he looked back at Polly with an easy friendliness, as if they had known each other for a long time. It was not until they had put the kittens safely back into the Ford and he turned to her again, that she noticed the whimsical eyes under his rather thick brows. They were different from any eyes that Polly had seen in other young men, and she was not at all sure whether they looked at her with interest, or merely with amusement.