MISS POLLY WIGGLES

BY EDNA CLARK DAVIS

ILLUSTRATED BY JULIA GREENE

BOSTON LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

Copyright, 1925, By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.

All rights reserved

Miss Polly Wiggles

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

Norwood Press BERWICK & SMITH CO. NORWOOD, MASS.

To MY NIECE ELIZABETH

The Original “Polly Wiggles” of the Story

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

[Pg 9]

MISS POLLY WIGGLES

CHAPTER ONE

AT “THE LILACS”

THE LILACS” was such a pretty place; at least Elizabeth said so, and every one that saw it was likely to agree with her. It was really the country home of Grandmother and Grandfather Carr, and Aunt Elsie, Elizabeth’s young-lady aunt, but every summer the Eatons went there, too.

In the first place it was so convenient for Dr. Eaton’s practice, and that was the most important consideration, for a doctor had to be able to get to his patients quickly, and The Lilacs was only a half-hour run in the automobile from his city office. Then, too, the children loved it, and both Dr. and Mrs. Eaton believed it good for their little girls to play around in the sweet country air.

[Pg 10]

Now let me tell you about the Eatons. First there was Dr. Daddy, as the children called him, who was a very busy man, but always ready for a smile, or a romp with his little brood. Then came Mrs. Eaton, who was the prettiest young mother any one could imagine, with big brown eyes that beamed lovingly at her little try-patiences. She was Aunt Elsie’s older sister, and Grandmother and Grandfather Carr’s big daughter, so you can imagine the good times they all had together.

As for the children, I must first tell you what they called themselves. There were just the three little girls. Jeannette, the eldest, was well past nine and already quite a schoolgirl. Then came Elizabeth, or Polly Wiggles, as every one nearly always called her. Grandfather Carr had given her the nickname, because she was such an active little girl that he declared she was “always on the wiggle,” and that the stately name of Elizabeth did not suit her at all. She was nearly as tall as Jeannette, but more than a year younger, and more than four years older than Evelyn, the baby of the family.

[Pg 11]

And what do you suppose they called themselves? Why, “The Three Bears,” to be sure. When they were younger, Mother had read them the famous story many times, and while Evelyn was still a baby it was Elizabeth’s fertile brain that thought, “Why, we’re three bears ourselves. Jeannette is the great big bear, I’m the middle-sized bear, and Evelyn is the wee little cubby bear.” It was a favorite play with the children after that, and Evelyn was called “Cub” and “Cubby” so much, that the name stuck, as many a nickname will, and even Mother and Father called this chubby, roly-poly, golden-curled daughter, “Cubby.”

The children were never happier than when at The Lilacs, for they dearly loved their grandparents and Aunt Elsie. Elizabeth was named after Grandmother Carr, and was very proud of the fact, while Jeannette had her mother’s name, and Evelyn was the name of Dr. Daddy’s mother, or their dear silver-haired Grandmother Eaton, who had a home at the seashore.

Grandmother Carr’s hair was as brown as Jeannette’s, with scarcely a silver thread in it,[Pg 12] but, as Elizabeth said, “Grandfather’s head pushed up through his hair,” and all around the sides it was gray.

It was early May, but already the big colonial house had been opened for the season, for Cubby was still coughing from the effects of the whooping-cough, and Dr. Daddy thought it wise to leave the city.

So Jeannette and Elizabeth were taken from their own school and attended the country school at Meadowbrook that was within easy walking-distance of The Lilacs. Jeannette was in the fifth grade and Elizabeth in the fourth, for both little girls were fond of books and well up in their studies. They always took their lunches with them, for the noon period was short, and besides, it was great fun to eat picnic luncheons on the green slope outside the school, especially as their two best playmates were with them.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Bees were already busy sipping honey from the flowers that grew in profusion in the old-fashioned gardens, and blue and yellow butterflies paused to kiss the purple and white lilac plumes that[Pg 13] sweetened the air with fragrance and gave the place its name.

Under the apple-trees by the brook that wound its way about the orchard back of The Lilacs, and through the meadows and little woods beyond, there was a great chattering going on that would make any one think that at least a dozen little girls were talking at once, instead of four.

Aunt Elsie, hidden behind a row of purple lilac blossoms, smiled as she pressed closer in her arms the big gray cat she was carrying, and watched the four little girls who were comfortably lying on their stomachs in the green grass, for Elizabeth’s and Jeannette’s best friends had come over to play.

Alice Maxfield was an only child, and lived next door to The Lilacs in a pretty summer home called “Sweet Briar.” She and Elizabeth had been the best of chums since baby days, and Polly Wiggles’ thick black curls and Alice’s smooth bobbed blonde locks were entwined as together they looked over a new book of fairy-tales. They were both eight, and in the same class at school. Marion West was a year older,[Pg 14] and the same age as Jeannette, but she was such an unusually big girl for her age that she could easily have passed for eleven, and overtopped Jeannette by half a head.

Marion was visiting her grandparents for the summer at their home, called “Blossom Banks,” which was farther down the avenue. Her father, Dr. West, was minister in the church the Eatons attended in the city, and he usually spent his summers at Meadowbrook. Both she and Jeannette were busy knitting scarfs for their dolls, and, to judge by the snarl Jeannette’s wool was in, it would take Mother or Grandmother many minutes to untangle it.

Aunt Elsie smiled again at the pretty picture the children made in their bright gingham dresses, for the four little girls were four such different types. Maybe that was the reason they got along so well together, for misunderstandings were few and far between, and quarrels almost unknown.

Alice was plump and rosy, with golden hair cut “Dutch,” and the bluest of blue eyes. She was a dear little girl, with just enough quietness[Pg 15] in her nature to balance the more mischievous and irrepressible Polly Wiggles. For Wiggles was mischievous. As Daddy said, “If there was any scrape to be gotten into, Wiggles was in.”

Such black crinkly curls had Wiggles, hanging just below her shoulders, and her blue eyes fairly danced with the joy of living. Grandfather used to say, with a twinkle in his gray eyes, “You’re such a thin wisp of a girl that some day a puff of wind will blow you away,” and Wiggles used to laugh at the idea of sailing away over housetops like a dried leaf. For no amount of teasing ever bothered her, which was most fortunate, for they were a fun-loving family, although all teasing was good-natured.

Jeannette had curls, too, long ones, but as Wiggles declared, “They hung down in the way curls should go, and didn’t snarl all up like corkscrews.” Then, too, Jeannette had brown eyes like Mother, and a great deal of Mother’s sweet, calm disposition. She was a thoughtful little girl, and rarely got into the funny scrapes that her active sister did.

[Pg 16]

Marion, who was clever with her fingers, was really doing creditable work on her doll’s scarf that was to match a cunning little sweater her grandmother had made. She was a child who took things earnestly, and had a mass of rippling red hair that hung far below her waist, and was almost too heavy for comfort.

Wiggles was in a pretty pink gingham dress, and Alice had on her favorite blue. Jeannette declared that was why it was called “Alice blue.” Jeannette’s frock was buff, and Marion’s, leaf-green, that contrasted with her glowing mane of hair.

“I wish my hair grew as quickly as yours,” said Alice, twisting one of the glowing locks around her finger as she spoke. For Marion’s hair was cut to her shoulders regularly each summer, and by the next spring it was long enough to sit on.

“I don’t think Mother will cut it this year,” replied Marion, “but it does get so warm and prickly-heaty. It’s lots more comfortable like yours, Alice.”

[Pg 17]

Alice ruffled her short blonde locks disconsolately. It made no difference how much she mussed herself or disarranged her hair, as, for some mysterious reason, she always looked immaculate, and hair, dresses, and ribbons seemed to fall again into correct folds, no matter how hard she played.

Maybe that was one reason that she and Wiggles were such chums, because the contrast was so great. It was a marvelous feat for Wiggles to arrive home from school intact, for either hair-ribbon or handkerchief would have vanished, or yawning gathers would show where skirt had once joined waist before she had indulged in a few games. Wiggles left each game looking a wreck. Alice was unruffled.

It was a peculiar fact, and one that Wiggles greatly deplored. As Mandy, the colored cook, declared, “Trouble suah flies to dat chile as de spahks fly upwahd.”

At the present moment Wiggles’ clean pink gingham had grass-stains front and back, of which she was serenely unconscious, and the big[Pg 18] butterfly bow on her hair had slid down to the very tip of one fat black curl, and was rescued from falling off by Marion, who neatly tied it anew.

Aunt Elsie parted the lilac-bushes gently and placed the beautiful gray Persian cat, her special pet and pride, on the grass.

“Now be a good pussy,” she whispered into one furry ear, “and take my message.”

Just as if he understood each word,—and maybe he did,—Pussy arched his beautiful fluffy tail over his back and picked his way daintily over the violet-strewn grass. Aunt Elsie slipped back behind the concealing bushes and watched his leisurely progress.

“Why, look!” exclaimed Jeannette, “here comes Boots. Here, Boots, Boots!”

“What is that thing around his neck, under his chin?” asked Alice curiously, peering at the beautiful pussy. “Why is he called ‘Boots,’ Wiggles?”

“’Cause his really-truly name is Puss-in-Boots,’” explained Wiggles, teetering on one foot as she spoke. “He is marked with four[Pg 19] white boots on his paws, so we call him Boots, for short. Isn’t he a booful angel pussy? There,” with a change of tone, “he has something around his neck, sure as can be. Isn’t that queer? Wait and I’ll see what it is.”

With a dart she pounced on the fuzzy Boots, and with much astonishment unfastened a tiny gay green-and-white basket that had been fastened to his collar.

“Oh, my goodness, girls, he’s a postman, or postcat!” she squealed, much excited. “Here are four little letters addressed to us in the basket,—one for each of us.”

Boots, much relieved to be separated from his “mail-sack,” curled down in Jeannette’s lap and took cat-naps, while four excited little girls tore open the tiny pink envelopes, and read this invitation:

“You are invited to a dolls’ bathing-picnic at ten-thirty this morning at Fleur-de-Lys Point. Bring your little dolls, and dolls’ furniture.”

Four little girls squealed with pleasure.

“I’ll have to ask permission,” exclaimed[Pg 20] Marion and Alice in one breath. “Won’t it be lovely? What time is it now?”

“It’s just ten o’clock,” announced Aunt Elsie, appearing beside the little girls, “and I already have asked permission of Marion’s grandmother and Alice’s mother, so it won’t be necessary for you to go home, as you have your dolls with you.”

“Oh,” squealed Wiggles, “then let’s pack and go quick.” With a rush she was off to the house, and reappeared a few minutes later with a huge market-basket, into which dolls, furniture, and dishes had been dumped pell-mell. To this she added Jeannette’s, Alice’s, and Marion’s dolls.

Then, led by Aunt Elsie, carrying a big red sunshade, and followed by the faithful Boots, the little party crossed the rustic bridge and walked through the green meadow-grasses along the brook, to the spot near the woods that had been named Fleur-de-Lys Point.

[Pg 21]

CHAPTER TWO

THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC

WHAT is a dolls’ bathing-picnic, Aunt Elsie?” inquired Wiggles curiously. “Our dolls can’t swim, you know.”

“Wait and see,” replied Aunt Elsie mysteriously.

“You do think of the nicest things,” said Jeannette, slipping her hand in her aunt’s.

Here Wiggles, who had scurried on ahead of the others, came puffing back, her hair in a wild curly mass from heat and perspiration.

“I could just see the Point,” she panted breathlessly, “and, what do you think, Auntie? I could see some horrid boys there, so we won’t be able to go there after all. Isn’t that mean?”

“Ugh! I hate boys,” cried Alice. “You can have so much nicer times when there are just girls. I do think all boys ought to live in a[Pg 22] menagerie, they’re so fond of bugs, and toads, and horrid things.”

“Well,” confessed Aunt Elsie, “you see, I invited some boys myself, so I don’t doubt but that they are there ahead of us.”

“You did? Boys?” echoed Wiggles. “To a dolls’ party? Why, Auntie!”

Aunt Elsie laughed again. “They’ll only be with us for a little while,” she explained. “I asked Marion’s brother, Hugh, and your own cousins, Billy and Dick. They won’t be so bad, will they?”

“I hope not,” replied Jeannette, doubtfully it must be confessed. “They always have to race around and upset and break things so, and make such a noise.”

The four little girls walked on together, arms around each other’s waists, brown, black, yellow, and red hair mingling.

“I do think boys are disgustable creatures,” declared Wiggles, tossing her curls. “No good at all unless you want to go swimming or something.”

“I think so, too,” declared Marion unexpectedly.[Pg 23] “Always pulling my hair and calling me, ‘Carrots’ and ‘Red Head’ and ‘Ginger.’”

“The idea!” said Jeannette indignantly. “Your hair is perfectly beautiful.”

“It’s what is called ‘Tissue’ hair,” announced Wiggles with an air of wisdom. “I heard one of the teachers say so, though I can’t see why it’s called that. It’s not a bit like tissue paper.”

“Oh, Wiggles!” laughed Jeannette; “you’ll certainly kill me. It’s ‘Titian’ hair, not ‘Tissue,’ and ‘Titian’ is a Latin or Greek name for ‘red,’ I think.”

“Well,” agreed Wiggles serenely, joining in the laughter, “it’s a much more ’spressive word than ‘red,’ anyway.”

Fleur-de-Lys Point was well named. There the brook gurgled along over flat stones and tiny pebbles, while masses of purple and white fleur-de-lys clustered about its bank, and even sent up daring shoots of green in the rippling water. The mossy bank was thickly carpeted with violets, and under a huge old willow-tree, that spread its drooping boughs over the crystal waters, the “disgustable” boys were waiting.

[Pg 24]

Wiggles’ cousins, Billy and Dick Gerard, were really very nice, jolly boys, full of spirits and boyishness, and, notwithstanding the little girls’ previous remarks, they were very fond of their good-natured cousins. Richard, or Dick as he was called, was ten; and William, who never answered to anything but “Bill,” or “Billy,” was past twelve. They were both strong, husky lads, with dark hair and eyes like Jeannette’s.

Hugh, Marion’s brother, was Dick’s inseparable pal and bosom crony, and had a head of heavy mahogany-colored hair several shades darker than his sister’s.

“If there isn’t Polly Wiggles,” greeted Billy. “Wiggles, every single hair on your head stands erect.”

The four little girls dropped down on the mossy bank, first carefully putting the market-basket, which they had taken turns in carrying, at the gnarled roots of the willow tree.

“Isn’t it lovely and shady here?” said Alice with a blissful sigh of content.

“Usually is shady under a tree,” teased Dick.

[Pg 25]

“Goodness,” said Marion, wiping her flushed face and trying to hold up her heavy hair away from her neck.

Aunt Elsie secured both Jeannette’s and Marion’s long locks with hairpins on top of their heads, and the two little girls felt quite grown up.

“Wiggles looks like a Fiji Islander,” said Hugh, for every strand corkscrewed out from her head in a mass of short, kinking curls.

“All you need is a ring in your nose,” gibed Billy.

“Well,” agreed Wiggles unruffled, “if I had a ring, I’d be a ‘belle’ I s’pose.” There was a general shout at this, and Billy pretended to faint away at such brain work in one so young.

Then Aunt Elsie pointed to the willow boughs above them, and, looking up, the little girls spied four small bundles, tied to the branches within easy reach of their eager hands, and each package was marked with a little girl’s name.

“More s’prises,” beamed Wiggles. “I just love s’prises. Oh!” with a shriek of joy; “just[Pg 26] see what I have,” and she held aloft the dearest little celluloid doll, dressed in a brilliant scarlet bathing-suit.

“And mine,” echoed Jeannette, holding up a blue-clad bather. Alice and Marion had the same, but Marion’s doll wore a green suit, and Alice’s a purple.

“Now,” said Aunt Elsie briskly, “we will have a swimming contest for the four doll-ladies.”

Seeing the girls’ look of surprise, the boys shouted.

“Celluloid floats, you know,” Dick explained to the girls at large. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid they’ll spoil their bathing-suits?”

Billy acted as master of ceremonies, and at his, “One, two, three, go!” each doll fell with a splash from the stone where it had been held by its little owner.

The current carried them gently down-stream, and even the boys became excited in seeing which would pass the “tape” first, which was a piece of string from Hugh’s pocket, fastened across the brook to the bushes on each side.

[Pg 27]

“Oh, mine’s ahead!” cried Marion, her eyes intent on the green-clad swimmer.

“There goes Wiggles’ first,” said Billy, as Marion’s doll suddenly swung round in a circle, delaying its progress.

“See mine, see mine!” squealed Alice, jumping up and down on the bank, and nearly tumbling in to join the bathers.

But it would take too long to tell you all the details of the “swim,” except to say that Wiggles’ doll was side-tracked by a surprised little turtle, that snapped angrily at the red cloth, thinking it, no doubt, a new variety of food. How the children screamed with laughter, Wiggles as much as any one, although it put her out of the race, as her doll bumped and stopped against a stone.

Jeannette’s doll swam straight into a mass of fleur-de-lys and became entangled among them, but Alice’s and Marion’s dolls went gayly on down-stream, sometimes one ahead, sometimes the other, until a fluttering breeze caught the purple doll and rushed her under the line victorious.

[Pg 28]

Such cheers as then arose! Even the boys clapped and acknowledged that they would never have believed a doll’s race could be so thrilling. Then, after the swimmers had been rescued and were once more on dry land, Alice’s doll received a prize, which proved to be a cunning little clock for her doll-house, that could tick when wound, and wave its pendulum back and forth.