CHAPTER XIII
A WAITING AND A WINNING
It was a delightful plan. Pollyanna had it entirely formulated inabout five minutes; then she told Mrs. Carew. Mrs. Carew did not thinkit was a delightful plan, and she said so very distinctly.
"Oh, but I'm sure THEY'LL think it is," argued Pollyanna, in reply toMrs. Carew's objections. "And just think how easy we can do it! Thetree is just as it was--except for the presents, and we can get moreof those. It won't be so very long till just New Year's Eve; and onlythink how glad she'll be to come! Wouldn't YOU be, if you hadn't hadanything for Christmas only blistered feet and chicken pie?"
"Dear, dear, what an impossible child you are!" frowned Mrs. Carew."Even yet it doesn't seem to occur to you that we don't know thisyoung person's name."
"So we don't! And isn't it funny, when I feel that I know HER sowell?" smiled Pollyanna. "You see, we had such a good talk in theGarden that day, and she told me all about how lonesome she was, andthat she thought the lonesomest place in the world was in a crowd in abig city, because folks didn't think nor notice. Oh, there was onethat noticed; but he noticed too much, she said, and he hadn't oughtto notice her any--which is kind of funny, isn't it, when you come tothink of it. But anyhow, he came for her there in the Garden to gosomewhere with him, and she wouldn't go, and he was a real handsomegentleman, too--until he began to look so cross, just at the last.Folks aren't so pretty when they're cross, are they? Now there was alady to-day looking at bows, and she said--well, lots of things thatweren't nice, you know. And SHE didn't look pretty, either,after--after she began to talk. But you will let me have the tree NewYear's Eve, won't you, Mrs. Carew?--and invite this girl who sellsbows, and Jamie? He's better, you know, now, and he COULD come. Ofcourse Jerry would have to wheel him--but then, we'd want Jerry,anyway."
"Oh, of course, JERRY!" exclaimed Mrs. Carew in ironic scorn. "But whystop with Jerry? I'm sure Jerry has hosts of friends who would love tocome. And--"
"Oh, Mrs. Carew, MAY I?" broke in Pollyanna, in uncontrollabledelight. "Oh, how good, GOOD, GOOD you are! I've so wanted--" But Mrs.Carew fairly gasped aloud in surprise and dismay.
"No, no, Pollyanna, I--" she began, protestingly. But Pollyanna,entirely mistaking the meaning of her interruption, plunged in againin stout championship.
"Indeed you ARE good--just the bestest ever; and I sha'n't let you sayyou aren't. Now I reckon I'll have a party all right! There's TommyDolan and his sister Jennie, and the two Macdonald children, and threegirls whose names I don't know that live under the Murphys, and awhole lot more, if we have room for 'em. And only think how gladthey'll be when I tell 'em! Why, Mrs. Carew, seems to me as if I neverknew anything so perfectly lovely in all my life--and it's all yourdoings! Now mayn't I begin right away to invite 'em--so they'll KNOWwhat's coming to 'em?"
And Mrs. Carew, who would not have believed such a thing possible,heard herself murmuring a faint "yes," which, she knew, bound her tothe giving of a Christmas-tree party on New Year's Eve to a dozenchildren from Murphy's Alley and a young salesgirl whose name she didnot know.
Perhaps in Mrs. Carew's memory was still lingering a young girl's"Sometimes I wonder there don't some of 'em think of helpin' the girlsBEFORE they go wrong." Perhaps in her ears was still ringingPollyanna's story of that same girl who had found a crowd in a bigcity the loneliest place in the world, yet who had refused to go withthe handsome man that had "noticed too much." Perhaps in Mrs. Carew'sheart was the undefined hope that somewhere in it all lay the peaceshe had so longed for. Perhaps it was a little of all three combinedwith utter helplessness in the face of Pollyanna's amazing twisting ofher irritated sarcasm into the wide-sweeping hospitality of a willinghostess. Whatever it was, the thing was done; and at once Mrs. Carewfound herself caught into a veritable whirl of plans and plottings,the center of which was always Pollyanna and the party.
To her sister, Mrs. Carew wrote distractedly of the whole affair,closing with:
"What I'm going to do I don't know; but I suppose I shall have to keepright on doing as I am doing. There is no other way. Of course, ifPollyanna once begins to preach--but she hasn't yet; so I can't, witha clear conscience, send her back to you."
Della, reading this letter at the Sanatorium, laughed aloud at theconclusion.
"'Hasn't preached yet,' indeed!" she chuckled to herself. "Bless herdear heart! And yet you, Ruth Carew, own up to giving twoChristmas-tree parties within a week, and, as I happen to know, yourhome, which used to be shrouded in death-like gloom, is aflame withscarlet and green from top to toe. But she hasn't preached yet--oh,no, she hasn't preached yet!"
The party was a great success. Even Mrs. Carew admitted that. Jamie,in his wheel chair, Jerry with his startling, but expressivevocabulary, and the girl (whose name proved to be Sadie Dean), viedwith each other in amusing the more diffident guests. Sadie Dean, muchto the others' surprise--and perhaps to her own--disclosed an intimateknowledge of the most fascinating games; and these games, with Jamie'sstories and Jerry's good-natured banter, kept every one in gales oflaughter until supper and the generous distribution of presents fromthe laden tree sent the happy guests home with tired sighs of content.
If Jamie (who with Jerry was the last to leave) looked about him a bitwistfully, no one apparently noticed it. Yet Mrs. Carew, when she badehim good-night, said low in his ear, half impatiently, halfembarrassedly:
"Well, Jamie, have you changed your mind--about coming?"
The boy hesitated. A faint color stole into his cheeks. He turned andlooked into her eyes wistfully, searchingly. Then very slowly he shookhis head.
"If it could always be--like to-night, I--could," he sighed. "But itwouldn't. There'd be to-morrow, and next week, and next month, andnext year comin'; and I'd know before next week that I hadn't oughtercome."
If Mrs. Carew had thought that the New Year's Eve party was to end thematter of Pollyanna's efforts in behalf of Sadie Dean, she was soonundeceived; for the very next morning Pollyanna began to talk of her.
"And I'm so glad I found her again," she prattled contentedly. "Evenif I haven't been able to find the real Jamie for you, I've foundsomebody else for you to love--and of course you'll love to love her,'cause it's just another way of loving Jamie."
Mrs. Carew drew in her breath and gave a little gasp of exasperation.This unfailing faith in her goodness of heart, and unhesitating beliefin her desire to "help everybody" was most disconcerting, andsometimes most annoying. At the same time it was a most difficultthing to disclaim--under the circumstances, especially withPollyanna's happy, confident eyes full on her face.
"But, Pollyanna," she objected impotently, at last, feeling very muchas if she were struggling against invisible silken cords,"I--you--this girl really isn't Jamie, at all, you know."
"I know she isn't," sympathized Pollyanna quickly. "And of course I'mjust as sorry she ISN'T Jamie as can be. But she's somebody'sJamie--that is, I mean she hasn't got anybody down here to love herand--and notice, you know; and so whenever you remember Jamie I shouldthink you couldn't be glad enough there was SOMEBODY you could help,just as you'd want folks to help Jamie, wherever HE is."
Mrs. Carew shivered and gave a little moan.
"But I want MY Jamie," she grieved.
Pollyanna nodded with understanding eyes.
"I know--the 'child's presence.' Mr. Pendleton told me about it--onlyyou've GOT the 'woman's hand.'"
"'Woman's hand'?"
"Yes--to make a home, you know. He said that it took a woman's hand ora child's presence to make a home. That was when he wanted me, and Ifound him Jimmy, and he adopted him instead."
"JIMMY?" Mrs. Carew looked up with the startled something in her eyesthat always came into them at the mention of any variant of that name.
"Yes; Jimmy Bean."
"Oh--BEAN," said Mrs. Carew, relaxing.
"Yes. He was from an Orphan's Home, and he ran away. I found him. Hesaid he wanted another kind of a home with a mother in it instead of aMatron. I couldn't fin
d him the mother-part, but I found him Mr.Pendleton, and he adopted him. His name is Jimmy Pendleton now."
"But it was--Bean?"
"Yes, it was Bean."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Carew, this time with a long sigh.
Mrs. Carew saw a good deal of Sadie Dean during the days that followedthe New Year's Eve party. She saw a good deal of Jamie, too. In oneway and another Pollyanna contrived to have them frequently at thehouse; and this, Mrs. Carew, much to her surprise and vexation, couldnot seem to prevent. Her consent and even her delight were taken byPollyanna as so much a matter of course that she found herselfhelpless to convince the child that neither approval nor satisfactionentered into the matter at all, as far as she was concerned.
But Mrs. Carew, whether she herself realized it or not, was learningmany things--things she never could have learned in the old days, shutup in her rooms, with orders to Mary to admit no one. She was learningsomething of what it means to be a lonely young girl in a big city,with one's living to earn, and with no one to care--except one whocares too much, and too little.
"But what did you mean?" she nervously asked Sadie Dean one evening;"what did you mean that first day in the store--what you said--abouthelping the girls?"
Sadie Dean colored distressfully.
"I'm afraid I was rude," she apologized.
"Never mind that. Tell me what you meant. I've thought of it so manytimes since."
For a moment the girl was silent; then, a little bitterly she said:
"'Twas because I knew a girl once, and I was thinkin' of her. She camefrom my town, and she was pretty and good, but she wa'n't over strong.For a year we pulled together, sharin' the same room, boiling our eggsover the same gas-jet, and eatin' our hash and fish balls for supperat the same cheap restaurant. There was never anything to do evenin'sbut to walk in the Common, or go to the movies, if we had the dime toblow in, or just stay in our room. Well, our room wasn't verypleasant. It was hot in summer, and cold in winter, and the gas-jetwas so measly and so flickery that we couldn't sew or read, even if wehadn't been too fagged out to do either--which we 'most generally was.Besides, over our heads was a squeaky board that some one was alwaysrockin' on, and under us was a feller that was learnin' to play thecornet. Did you ever hear any one learn to play the cornet?"
"N-no, I don't think so," murmured Mrs. Carew.
"Well, you've missed a lot," said the girl, dryly. Then, after amoment, she resumed her story.
"Sometimes, 'specially at Christmas and holidays, we used to walk uphere on the Avenue, and other streets, huntin' for windows where thecurtains were up, and we could look in. You see, we were prettylonesome, them days 'specially, and we said it did us good to seehomes with folks, and lamps on the center-tables, and children playin'games; but we both of us knew that really it only made us feel worsethan ever, because we were so hopelessly out of it all. 'Twas evenharder to see the automobiles, and the gay young folks in them,laughing and chatting. You see, we were young, and I suspect we wantedto laugh and chatter. We wanted a good time, too; and, by and by--mychum began to have it--this good time.
"Well, to make a long story short, we broke partnership one day, andshe went her way, and I mine. I didn't like the company she waskeepin', and I said so. She wouldn't give 'em up, so we quit. I didn'tsee her again for 'most two years, then I got a note from her, and Iwent. This was just last month. She was in one of them rescue homes.It was a lovely place; soft rugs, fine pictures, plants, flowers, andbooks, a piano, a beautiful room, and everything possible done forher. Rich women came in their automobiles and carriages to take herdriving, and she was taken to concerts and matinees. She was learnin'stenography, and they were going to help her to a position just assoon as she could take it. Everybody was wonderfully good to her, shesaid, and showed they wanted to help her in every way. But she saidsomething else, too. She said:
"'Sadie, if they'd taken one half the pains to show me they cared andwanted to help long ago when I was an honest, self-respectin',hard-workin' homesick girl--I wouldn't have been here for them to helpnow.' And--well, I never forgot it. That's all. It ain't that I'mobjectin' to the rescue work--it's a fine thing, and they ought to doit. Only I'm thinkin' there wouldn't be quite so much of it for themto do--if they'd just show a little of their interest earlier in thegame."
"But I thought--there were working-girls' homes, and--andsettlement-houses that--that did that sort of thing," faltered Mrs.Carew in a voice that few of her friends would have recognized.
"There are. Did you ever see the inside of one of them?"
"Why, n-no; though I--I have given money to them." This time Mrs.Carew's voice was almost apologetically pleading in tone.
Sadie Dean smiled curiously.
"Yes, I know. There are lots of good women that have given money tothem--and have never seen the inside of one of them. Please don'tunderstand that I'm sayin' anythin' against the homes. I'm not.They're good things. They're almost the only thing that's doinganything to help; but they're only a drop in the bucket to what isreally needed. I tried one once; but there was an air aboutit--somehow I felt-- But there, what's the use? Probably they aren'tall like that one, and maybe the fault was with me. If I should try totell you, you wouldn't understand. You'd have to live in it--and youhaven't even seen the inside of one. But I can't help wonderin'sometimes why so many of those good women never seem to put the realHEART and INTEREST into the preventin' that they do into the rescuin'.But there! I didn't mean to talk such a lot. But--you asked me."
"Yes, I asked you," said Mrs. Carew in a half-stifled voice, as sheturned away.
Not only from Sadie Dean, however, was Mrs. Carew learning thingsnever learned before, but from Jamie, also.
Jamie was there a great deal. Pollyanna liked to have him there, andhe liked to be there. At first, to be sure, he had hesitated; but verysoon he had quieted his doubts and yielded to his longings by tellinghimself (and Pollyanna) that, after all, visiting was not "staying forkeeps."
Mrs. Carew often found the boy and Pollyanna contentedly settled onthe library window-seat, with the empty wheel chair close by.Sometimes they were poring over a book. (She heard Jamie tellPollyanna one day that he didn't think he'd mind so very much beinglame if he had so many books as Mrs. Carew, and that he guessed he'dbe so happy he'd fly clean away if he had both books and legs.)Sometimes the boy was telling stories, and Pollyanna was listening,wide-eyed and absorbed.
Mrs. Carew wondered at Pollyanna's interest--until one day she herselfstopped and listened. After that she wondered no longer--but shelistened a good deal longer. Crude and incorrect as was much of theboy's language, it was always wonderfully vivid and picturesque, sothat Mrs. Carew found herself, hand in hand with Pollyanna, trailingdown the Golden Ages at the beck of a glowing-eyed boy.
Dimly Mrs. Carew was beginning to realize, too, something of what itmust mean, to be in spirit and ambition the center of brave deeds andwonderful adventures, while in reality one was only a crippled boy ina wheel chair. But what Mrs. Carew did not realize was the part thiscrippled boy was beginning to play in her own life. She did notrealize how much a matter of course his presence was becoming, nor howinterested she now was in finding something new "for Jamie to see."Neither did she realize how day by day he was coming to seem to hermore and more the lost Jamie, her dead sister's child.
As February, March, and April passed, however, and May came, bringingwith it the near approach of the date set for Pollyanna's home-going,Mrs. Carew did suddenly awake to the knowledge of what that home-goingwas to mean to her.
She was amazed and appalled. Up to now she had, in belief, lookedforward with pleasure to the departure of Pollyanna. She had said thatthen once again the house would be quiet, with the glaring sun shutout. Once again she would be at peace, and able to hide herself awayfrom the annoying, tiresome world. Once again she would be free tosummon to her aching consciousness all those dear memories of the lostlittle lad who had so long ago stepped into that vast unknown andclosed the door behind him
. All this she had believed would be thecase when Pollyanna should go home.
But now that Pollyanna was really going home, the picture was fardifferent. The "quiet house with the sun shut out" had become one thatpromised to be "gloomy and unbearable." The longed-for "peace" wouldbe "wretched loneliness"; and as for her being able to "hide herselfaway from the annoying, tiresome world," and "free to summon to heraching consciousness all those dear memories of that lost littlelad"--just as if anything could blot out those other aching memoriesof the new Jamie (who yet might be the old Jamie) with his pitiful,pleading eyes!
Full well now Mrs. Carew knew that without Pollyanna the house wouldbe empty; but that without the lad, Jamie, it would be worse thanthat. To her pride this knowledge was not pleasing. To her heart itwas torture--since the boy had twice said that he would not come. Fora time, during those last few days of Pollyanna's stay, the strugglewas a bitter one, though pride always kept the ascendancy. Then, onwhat Mrs. Carew knew would be Jamie's last visit, her heart triumphed,and once more she asked Jamie to come and be to her the Jamie that waslost.
What she said she never could remember afterwards; but what the boysaid, she never forgot. After all, it was compassed in six shortwords.
For what seemed a long, long minute his eyes had searched her face;then to his own had come a transfiguring light, as he breathed:
"Oh, yes! Why, you--CARE, now!"