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Page 16
"I agree with him, that it is not impossible," said Mrs. Noble
teasingly, after a moment of silence.
"Now, dearest aunty Meg, don't take sides with that odious man! If, in
the distant years, you ever see me on the point of marrying well,
simply mention Mr. Greenwood's name to me, and I 'll draw back even if
I am walking up the middle aisle with an ivory prayer-book in my hand!"
"Just to spite Mr. Greenwood; that would be sensible," said Margery.
"You could n't be so calm if you had to sit at the same table with him
day after day. He belongs at the second table by--by every law of his
nature! But, as I was saying, now that we have rented him to Mrs.
Chadwick with the rest of the furniture, and will have a percentage on
him just as we do on the piano which is far more valuable, I have been
able to look at him pleasantly."
"You ought to be glad that the boarders like you," said Margery
reprovingly.
"They don't, as a rule; only the horrors and the elderly gentlemen
approve of me. But good-by for to-day, aunty Meg. Come to the gate,
Peggy dear!"
The two friends walked through the orange-grove, their arms wound about
each other, girl-fashion. They were silent, for each was sorry to lose
the other, and a remembrance of the dear old times, the unbroken
circle, the peaceful schooldays and merry vacations, stole into their
young hearts, together with visions of the unknown future.
As Polly untied Blanquita and gave a heroic cinch to the saddle, she
gave a last searching look at Margery, and said finally, "Peggy dear, I
am very sure you are blue this morning; tell your faithful old
Pollykins all about it."
One word was enough for Margery in her present mood, and she burst into
tears on Polly's shoulder.
"Is it Edgar again?" whispered Polly.
"Yes," she sobbed. "Father has given him three months more to stay in
the university, and unless he does better he is to come home and live
on the cattle-ranch. Mother is heart-broken over it; for you know,
Polly, that Edgar will never endure such a life; and yet, dearly as he
loves books, he is n't doing well with his studies. The president has
written father that he is very indolent this term and often absent from
recitations; and one of the Santa Barbara boys, a senior, writes Philip
that he is not choosing good friends, nor taking any rank in his class.
Mother has written him such a letter this morning! If he can read it
without turning his back upon his temptations, whatever they may he, I
shall never have any pride in him again; and oh, Polly, I have been so
proud of him, my brilliant, handsome, charming brother!"
"Poor Edgar! I can't believe it is anything that will last. He is so
bright and lovable; every one thought he would take the highest honors.
Why, Margery, he is, or was, the most ambitious boy I ever knew, and
surely, surely he cannot have changed altogether! Surely he will come
to himself when he knows he may have to leave college unless he does
his best. I 'm so sorry, dear old Peggy! It seems heartless that my
brighter times should begin just when you are in trouble. Perhaps
mamma and I can do something for Edgar; we will try, you may lie sure.
Good-by, dearest; I shall see you again very soon."
Ten days later, Polly stood on the deck of the Orizaba just at dusk,
looking back on lovely Santa Barbara as it lay in the lap of the
foothills freshened by the first rains. The dull, red-tiled roofs of
the old Spanish adobes gleamed through the green of the pepper-trees,
the tips of the tall, straggling blue-gums stood out sharply against
the sky, and the twin towers of the old Mission rose in dazzling
whiteness above a wilderness of verdure. The friendly faces on the
wharf first merged themselves into a blurred mass of moving atoms, then
sank into nothingness.
Polly glanced into her stateroom. Mrs. Oliver was a good sailor, and
was lying snug and warm under her blankets. So Polly took a camp-chair
just outside the door, wrapped herself in her fur cape, crowded her
tam-o'-shanter tightly on, and sat there alone as the sunset glow paled
in the western sky and darkness fell upon the face of the deep.
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