Well, here's the next chapter. I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character, especially Mrs. Kirke since the book doesn't talk a lot about her. So please tell me if there's anything I should adjust or change.
"How long have you been inside?" Mrs. Kirke asked. She took a few swift steps into the library and stared at her son.
"Don't know," Digory said rather rudely, for he knew his mother's thoughts and did not want her trying to cut in. He turned back to the science book.
Mrs. Kirke would never give up so easily. She had to get to the point, and now. "Why did you treat Polly so? Why did you hurt her? Couldn't you have smiled and been a little more encouraging?"
"I'm being sensible, Mother!" Digory shut the book, his brow contorted. "Don't you see? I aim to become a professor someday. A professor, not a lovesick fool. Polly's a brick––she's wonderful, and smart, and clever, but the notion of me being in love with her is ridiculous."
"It is not!" said Mrs. Kirke in astonishment. "Why, it's perfectly natural."
"We've had mud ball fights together, we've explored the woods and caves and all sorts of places. She's a pal. I don't think of her as a girl. And as I was trying to say, it wouldn't be sensible for us to be together in the first place. I'll be off to college in a year or two. I won't have time for girls––not Polly, not any other girl."
Mrs. Kirke settled herself into a seat across from Digory. Outside, she could hear rain starting to drizzle down. The soft pit-pat on the roof did nothing to calm her. "Digory," she said, struggling not to show her anger, "please think this through. Your father and I would approve of you and Polly being together, very much so. You would still see her on breaks from college. It's not like you would have to devote your life to studying." Frantic for him to pay attention, she placed her hand over his.
Digory drew his hand away. "Mother, listen. I'm never going to think of Polly in the way that you want me to; and that's final. Now, where has the silly girl got to anyway?" Standing up, he pushed his chair in with a thud and slid the thick science book into a bookshelf.
"Up in bed. She mentioned feeling rather tired." Knowing that she was losing this verbal battle, Mrs. Kirke wearily relented, but not before resolving to fight more next time. She switched to another subject. "I do hope it wasn't raining when the two of you were outside; it could have given her a cold."
"There was a jolly good deal of fog and mist floating about, but the rain hadn't started then."
"Next time don't go out so early. Wait until the sun shows its face and it brightens up."
Digory's jaw firmed. "I'm seventeen." Those were the only words it took to remind his mother. He was almost an adult; he could take care of himself.
Mrs. Kirke winced. "I know, dear, I know." Pushing her chair in, she rubbed her temples and strode out of the library without a backward glance. As she stepped across the threshold, thunder shook the mansion.
Her hands were shaky as she ascended the staircase. This summer was going to be different than the other summers that Polly had stayed with them. Digory and Polly had grown up this year and changed quite a bit. Oh, but they were still stubborn, for Digory would not examine his feelings, and Polly was regretting and resenting hers.
She wondered how long the tension would last.
Meanwhile, Polly was snuggled up in bed feeling worse by the second. Chilly wet weather had never bothered her before, but after ten minutes' time in the grassy damp yard, she'd managed to catch a cold. Already her throat was sore and she'd been coughing harshly several times.
"This would be my luck," she mumbled to herself hoarsely as she wiggled about, trying to find a comfortable spot on the pillow. Here she was, at the home of her best friend for the entire summer, the place she'd constantly been thinking about during the school year. And now, even though she had remained completely healthy during the school year, she'd gotten sick during her special summer break.
A soft tapping sounded on the door, and Mrs. Kirke slipped in. "Hello, Polly. How do you feel? It's time for lunch."
"I don't think I should get out of bed," Polly admitted, and explained to her worried hostess that she had taken ill. Mrs. Kirke felt her forehead and agreed that she did feel rather warm.
"Where do you not feel good?" she asked gently.
"My throat's sore. I've been coughing and my nose is running, too." Polly grimaced in an apologetic manner.
Mrs. Kirke eyed the weary-looking girl. "Your nose is running? Now tell me honestly, would that be from congestion or from the tears you shed?"
Polly looked up indignantly, a bit of her old fire returning. "Excuse me, Mrs. Kirke, but I haven't been crying over Digory. The only tears I cried were the ones you witnessed when you helped me to my room. I'll admit that I've been moping a bit in here, but I haven't let myself cry again. I despise crybabies."
Mrs. Kirke chuckled, half in disbelief and half in amusement. She recalled that, over the years, Polly had always been that strong, determined type. "Then I suppose I will accept a cold as your excuse." She opened a drawer in the nightstand and handed Polly a handkerchief.
"But it's not an excuse!" Polly blew her nose. "I don't know how it happened. I've never gotten sick so quickly. We Plummers have always had strong constitutions––"
"Hush, dear." Mrs. Kirke tapped the edge of the bed sheet. "You need to rest. I'll bring up some broth for you, and some more cocoa, perhaps. That ought to help you improve."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kirke." Polly twisted the handkerchief, a fierce glint in her eyes. "And please, don't tell Digory of our earlier conversation. The one about me being in love with him."
"As you wish, but why ever not?"
"Oh, I don't love him anymore," Polly said, very frankly and calmly. "That's all. I don't know why I ever liked him in the first place. He's just a boy with a head full of silly ideas. So none of it really matters, not now. Why, now I just need to focus on getting well again."
Mrs. Kirke said nothing. The first thing she thought was that young people were so apt to change their minds in the twitch of an eye. The second was that Polly was incredibly stubborn if she was now denying her affection for Digory. The third was a feeling of sorrow for Polly, that the girl was attempting to brush off the earlier incident and pretend that she scoffed at Digory.
Oh, yes, the older woman thought as she nodded and quietly departed. No more was Polly heartbroken and devastated. Digory was her enemy now. She hadn't said so out right, but it was as clear as a mirror's reflection. Something big was going to happen between Polly and Digory soon. Mrs. Kirke had been fervently hoping that their relationship would someday be repaired, but now she was starting to feel discouraged.
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