Missy Part 9

"We'll quickly find that out," he said, and his voice was more buoyant than she had heard it in months. "Missy, do you think you could get a note to her right away?"

Missy nodded eagerly.

He scribbled the note on the back of a letter and folded it with the Poem in the used envelope. "There won't be any answer," he directed Missy, "unless she brings it herself. Just get it to her without anyone's seeing."

Missy nodded again, vibrant with repressed excitement. "I'll just pretend it's a secret about a poem. Miss Princess always helps make secrets about poems."

Evidently Miss Princess did so this time. For, after an eternity of ten minutes, Young Doc, peering through the leaves of the summerhouse, saw Missy and her convoy coming across the lawn. Missy was walking along very solemnly, with only an occasional skip to betray the ebullition within her.

But it was on the tall girl that Young Doc's gaze was riveted, the slender graceful figure which, for all its loveliness, had something pathetically drooping about it--like a lily with a storm-bruised stem.

Something in Young Doc's throat clicked, and every last trace of resentment and wounded pride magically dissolved. He went straight to her in the doorway, and for a moment they stood there as if forgetful of everyone else in the world. Neither spoke, as is the way of those whose minds and hearts are full of inarticulate things. Then it was Doc who broke the silence.

"By the way, Missy," he said in quite an ordinary tone, "there are some of those sugar pills in a bag out in the Ford. You'll find them tucked in a corner of the seat."

Obediently Missy departed to get the treat. And when she returned, not too quickly, Miss Princess was laughing and crying both at once, and Young Doc was openly squeezing both her hands.

"Missy," he hailed, "run in and ask your mother if you can go for a ride. Needn't mention Miss Princess is going along."

O, it is a wonderful world! Swiftly back at the trysting place with the necessary permission, tucked into the Ford between the two happy lovers, "away they did race until soon lost to view."

And exactly the same happy purpose as that in the Poem! For, half-way down the stretch of Boulevard, Miss Princess squeezed her hand and said:

"We're going over to Somerville, darling, to be married, and you're to be one of the witnesses."

Missy's heart surged with delight--O, it was a wonderful world! Then a dart of remembrance came, and a big tear spilled out and ran down her cheek. Miss Princess, in the midst of a laugh, looked down and spied it.

"Why, darling, what is it?" she cried anxiously.

"My Pink Dress--I just happened to think of it. But it doesn't really make any difference." However Missy's eyes were wet and s.h.i.+ning with an emotion she couldn't quite control.

With eyes which were s.h.i.+ning with many emotions, the man and girl, over her head, regarded each other. It was the man who spoke first, slowing down the car as he did so.

"Don't you think we'd better run back to Miss Martin's and get it?"

For answer, his sweetheart leaned across Missy and kissed him.

A fifteen minutes' delay, and again the Ford was headed towards Somerville and the County Courthouse; but now an additional pa.s.senger, a big brown box, was hugged between Missy's knees. In the County Courthouse she did not forget to guard this box tenderly all the time Young Doc and Miss Princess were scurrying around musty offices, interviewing important, s.h.i.+rt-sleeved men, and signing papers--not even when she herself was permitted to sign her name to an imposing doc.u.ment, "just for luck," as Doc laughingly said.

Then he bent his head to hear what Miss Princess wanted to whisper to him, and they both laughed some more; and then he said something to the s.h.i.+rtsleeved men, and they laughed; and then--O, it is a wonderful world!--Miss Princess took her into a dusty, paper-littered inner office, lifted the Pink Dress out of the box, dressed Missy up in it, fluffed out the "wave" in her front hair, and exclaimed that she was the loveliest little flower-girl in the whole world.

"Even without the flower-hat and the pink stockings?"

"Even without the flower-hat and the pink stockings," said Miss Princess with such a.s.surance that Missy cast off doubt forever.

After the Wedding--and never in Romance was such a gay, laughing Wedding--when again they were all packed in the Ford, Missy gave a contented sigh.

"I kind of knew it," she confided. "For I dreamed it all, two nights running. Both times I had on the Pink Dress, and both times it was Doc.

I'm so happy it's Doc."

And over her head the other two looked in each other's eyes.

CHAPTER III. LIKE A SINGING BIRD

She was fourteen, going on fifteen; and the world was a fascinating place. There were people who found Cherryvale a dull, poky little town to live in, but not Melissa. Not even in winter, when school and lessons took up so much time that it almost shut out reading and the wonderful dreams which reading is bound to bring you. Yet even school-especially high school the first year-was interesting. The more so when there was a teacher like Miss Smith, who looked too pretty to know so much about algebra and who was said to get a letter every day from a lieutenant-in the Philippines! Then there was ancient history, full of things fascinating enough to make up for algebra and physics. But even physics becomes suddenly thrilling at times. And always literature! Of course "grades" were bothersome, and sometimes you hated to show your monthly report to your parents, who seemed to set so much store by it; and sometimes you almost envied Beulah Crosswhite, who always got an A and who could ask questions which disconcerted even the teachers.

Yes, even school was interesting. However, summertime was best, although then you must practice your music lesson two hours instead of one a day, dust the sitting room, and mind the baby. But you could spend long, long hours in the summerhouse, reading poetry out of the big Anthology and-this a secret-writing poetry yourself! It was heavenly to write poetry. Something soft and warm seemed to ooze through your being as you sat out there and watched the sorrow of a drab, drab sky; or else, on a bright day, a big s.h.i.+ning cloud aloft like some silver-gold fairy palace and, down below, the smell of warm, new-cut gra.s.s, and whispers of little live things everywhere! It was then that you felt you'd have died if you couldn't have written poetry!

It was on such a lilting day of June, and Melissa's whole being in tune with it, that she was called in to the midday dinner-and received the invitation.

Father had brought it from the post office and handed it to her with exaggerated solemnity. "For Miss Melissa Merriam," he announced.

Yes! there was her name on the tiny envelope.

And, on the tiny card within, written in a painstaking, cramped hand:

Mr. Raymond Bonner At Home Wednesday June Tenth R.S.V.P. 8 P.M.

With her whole soul in her mouth, which made it quite impossible to speak, she pa.s.sed the card to her mother and waited. "Oh," said mother, "an evening party."

Melissa's soul dropped a trifle: it still clogged her throat, but she was able to form words.

"Oh, mother!"

"You KNOW you're not to ask to go to evening parties, Missy." Mother's tone was as firm as doom.

Missy turned her eyes to father.

"Don't look at me with those big saucers!" he smiled. "Mother's the judge."

So Missy turned her eyes back again. "Mother, PLEASE-"

But mother shook her head. "You're too young to begin such things, Missy. I don't know what this town's coming to--mere babies running round at night, playing cards and dancing!"

"But, mother--"

"Don't start teasing, Missy. It won't do any good."

So Missy didn't start teasing, but her soul remained choking in her throat. It made it difficult for her to swallow, and nothing tasted good, though they had lamb chops, which she adored.

"Eat your meat, Missy," adjured mother. Missy tried to obey and felt that she was swallowing lumps of lead.

But in the afternoon everything miraculously changed. Kitty Allen and her mother came to call. Kitty was her chum, and lived in the next block, up the hill. Kitty was beautiful, with long curls which showed golden glints in the sun. She had a whim that she and Missy, sometimes, should have dresses made exactly alike-for instance, this summer, their best dresses of pink dotted mull. Missy tried to enjoy the whim with Kitty, but she couldn't help feeling sad at seeing how much prettier Kitty could look in the same dress. If only she had gold-threaded curls!

During the call the party at the Bonners' was mentioned. Mrs. Allen was going to "a.s.sist" Mrs. Bonner. She suggested that Missy might accompany Kitty and herself.