CHAPTER III. POLLY'S TROUBLES
POLLY soon found that she was in a new world, a world where the mannersand customs were so different from the simple ways at home, that shefelt like a stranger in a strange land, and often wished that she hadnot come. In the first place, she had nothing to do but lounge andgossip, read novels, parade the streets, and dress; and before a weekwas gone, she was as heartily sick of all this, as a healthy personwould be who attempted to live on confectionery. Fanny liked it, becauseshe was used to it, and had never known anything better; but Pollyhad, and often felt like a little wood-bird shut up in a gilded cage.Nevertheless, she was much impressed by the luxuries all about her,enjoyed them, wished she owned them, and wondered why the Shaws were nota happier family. She was not wise enough to know where the trouble lay;she did not attempt to say which of the two lives was the right one; sheonly knew which she liked best, and supposed it was merely another ofher "old-fashioned" ways.
Fanny's friends did not interest her much; she was rather afraid ofthem, they seemed so much older and wiser than herself, even thoseyounger in years. They talked about things of which she knew nothing andwhen Fanny tried to explain, she did n't find them interesting; indeed,some of them rather shocked and puzzled her; so the girls let her alone,being civil when they met, but evidently feeling that she was too "odd"to belong to their set. Then she turned to Maud for companionship, forher own little sister was excellent company, and Polly loved her dearly.But Miss Maud was much absorbed in her own affairs, for she belongedto a "set" also; and these mites of five and six had their "musicals,"their parties, receptions, and promenades, as well as their elders; and,the chief idea of their little lives seemed to be to ape the fashionablefollies they should have been too innocent to understand. Maud had hertiny card-case, and paid calls, "like mamma and Fan"; her box of daintygloves, her jewel-drawer, her crimping-pins, as fine and fanciful awardrobe as a Paris doll, and a French maid to dress her. Polly couldn't get on with her at first, for Maud did n't seem like a child, andoften corrected Polly in her conversation and manners, though littlemademoiselle's own were anything but perfect. Now and then, when Maudfelt poorly, or had a "fwactious" turn, for she had "nerves" as well asmamma, she would go to Polly to "be amoosed," for her gentle ways andkind forbearance soothed the little fine lady better than anything else.Polly enjoyed these times, and told stories, played games, or wentout walking, just as Maud liked, slowly and surely winning the child'sheart, and relieving the whole house of the young tyrant who ruled it.
Tom soon got over staring at Polly, and at first did not take muchnotice of her, for, in his opinion, "girls did n't amount to much,anyway"; and, considering, the style of girl he knew most about, Pollyquite agreed with him. He occasionally refreshed himself by teasing her,to see how she'd stand it, and caused Polly much anguish of spirit, forshe never knew where he would take her next. He bounced out at her frombehind doors, booed at her in dark entries, clutched her feet as shewent up stairs, startled her by shrill whistles right in her ear, orsudden tweaks of the hair as he passed her in the street; and as sure asthere was company to dinner, he fixed his round eyes on her, and nevertook them off till she was reduced to a piteous state of confusion anddistress. She used to beg him not to plague her; but he said he didit for her good; she was too shy, and needed toughening like the othergirls. In vain she protested that she did n't want to be like the othergirls in that respect; he only laughed in her face, stuck his red hairstraight up all over his head, and glared at her, till she fled indismay.
Yet Polly rather liked Tom, for she soon saw that he was neglected,hustled out of the way, and left to get on pretty much by himself. Sheoften wondered why his mother did n't pet him as she did the girls;why his father ordered him about as if he was a born rebel, and took solittle interest in his only son. Fanny considered him a bear, and wasashamed of him; but never tried to polish him up a bit; and Maud andhe lived together like a cat and dog who did not belong to a "happyfamily." Grandma was the only one who stood by poor old Tom; and Pollymore than once discovered him doing something kind for Madam, andseeming very much ashamed when it was found out. He was n't respectfulat all; he called her "the old lady," and told her he "would n't befussed over"; but when anything was the matter, he always went to "theold lady," and was very grateful for the "fussing." Polly liked him forthis, and often wanted to speak of it; but she had a feeling that itwould n't do, for in praising their affection, she was reproachingothers with neglect; so she held her tongue, and thought about it allthe more. Grandma was rather neglected, too, and perhaps that isthe reason why Tom and she were such good friends. She was even moreold-fashioned than Polly; but people did n't seem to mind it so much inher, as her day was supposed to be over, and nothing was expected of herbut to keep out of everybody's way, and to be handsomely dressed whenshe appeared "before people." Grandma led a quiet, solitary life in herown rooms, full of old furniture, pictures, books, and relics of a pastfor which no one cared but herself. Her son went up every evening for alittle call, was very kind to her, and saw that she wanted nothing moneycould buy; but he was a busy man, so intent on getting rich that hehad no time to enjoy what he already possessed. Madam never complained,interfered, or suggested; but there was a sad sort of quietude abouther, a wistful look in her faded eyes, as if she wanted something whichmoney could not buy, and when children were near, she hovered aboutthem, evidently longing to cuddle and caress them as only grandmotherscan. Polly felt this; and as she missed the home-petting, gladly showedthat she liked to see the quiet old face brighten, as she entered thesolitary room, where few children came, except the phantoms of littlesons and daughters, who, to the motherly heart that loved them, neverfaded or grew up. Polly wished the children would be kinder to grandma;but it was not for her to tell them so, although it troubled her a gooddeal, and she could only try to make up for it by being as dutiful andaffectionate as if their grandma was her own.
Another thing that disturbed Polly was the want of exercise. To dressup and parade certain streets for an hour every day, to stand talking indoorways, or drive out in a fine carriage, was not the sort of exerciseshe liked, and Fan would take no other. Indeed, she was so shocked,when Polly, one day, proposed a run down the mall, that her friend neverdared suggest such a thing again. At home, Polly ran and rode, coastedand skated, jumped rope and raked hay, worked in her garden and rowedher boat; so no wonder she longed for something more lively than a dailypromenade with a flock of giddy girls, who tilted along in high-heeledboots, and costumes which made Polly ashamed to be seen with some ofthem. So she used to slip out alone sometimes, when Fanny was absorbedin novels, company, or millinery, and get fine brisk walks round thepark, on the unfashionable side, where the babies took their airings; orshe went inside, to watch the boys coasting, and to wish she could coasttoo, as she did at home. She never went far, and always came back rosyand gay.
One afternoon, just before dinner, she felt so tired of doing nothing,that she slipped out for a run. It had been a dull day; but the sun wasvisible now, setting brightly below the clouds. It was cold but stilland Polly trotted down the smooth, snow-covered mall humming to herself,and trying not to feel homesick. The coasters were at it with all theirmight, and she watched them, till her longing to join the fun grewirresistible. On the hill, some little girls were playing with theirsleds, real little girls, in warm hoods and coats, rubber boots andmittens, and Polly felt drawn toward them in spite of her fear of Fan.
"I want to go down, but I dars n't, it's so steep," said one of these"common children," as Maud called them.
"If you'll lend me your sled, and sit in my lap, I'll take you downall nice," answered Polly, in a confidential tone.
The little girls took a look at her, seemed satisfied, and acceptedher offer. Polly looked carefully round to see that no fashionable eyebeheld the awful deed, and finding all safe, settled her freight, andspun away down hill, feeling all over the delightsome excitement ofswift motion which makes coasting such a favorite pastime with
the moresensible portion of the child-world. One after another, she tookthe little girls down the hill and dragged them up again, while theyregarded her in the light of a gray-coated angel, descended for theirexpress benefit. Polly was just finishing off with one delicious "go"all by herself, when she heard a familiar whistle behind her, and beforeshe could get off, up came Tom, looking as much astonished as if he hadfound her mounted, on an elephant.
"Hullo, Polly! What'll Fan say to you?" was his polished salutation.
"Don't know, and don't care. Coasting is no harm; I like it, and I'mgoing to do it, now I've got a chance; so clear the lul-la!" Andaway went independent Polly, with her hair blowing in the wind, and anexpression of genuine enjoyment, which a very red nose did n't damage inthe least.
"Good for you, Polly!" And casting himself upon his sled, with the mostreckless disregard for his ribs, off whizzed Tom after her, and camealongside just as she reined up "General Grant" on the broad path below."Oh, won't you get it when we go home?" cried the young gentleman, evenbefore he changed his graceful attitude.
"I shan't, if you don't go and tell; but of course you will," addedPolly, sitting still, while an anxious expression began to steal overher happy face.
"I just won't, then," returned Tom, with the natural perversity of histribe.
"If they ask me, I shall tell, of course; if they don't ask, I thinkthere's no harm in keeping still. I should n't have done it, if I hadn't known my mother was willing; but I don't wish to trouble your motherby telling of it. Do you think it was very dreadful of me?" asked Polly,looking at him.
"I think it was downright jolly; and I won't tell, if you don't want meto. Now, come up and have another," said Tom, heartily.
"Just one more; the little girls want to go, this is their sled."
"Let'em take it, it is n't good for much; and you come on mine.Mazeppa's a stunner; you see if he is n't."
So Polly tucked herself up in front, Tom hung on behind in somemysterious manner, and Mazeppa proved that he fully merited his master'ssincere if inelegant praise. They got on capitally now, for Tom was inhis proper sphere, and showed his best side, being civil and gay in thebluff boy-fashion that was natural to him; while Polly forgot to be shy,and liked this sort of "toughening" much better than the other. Theylaughed and talked, and kept taking "just one more," till the sunshinewas all gone, and the clocks struck dinner-time.
"We shall be late; let's run," said Polly, as they came into the pathafter the last coast.
"You just sit still, and I'll get you home in a jiffy;" and before shecould unpack herself, Tom trotted off with her at a fine pace.
"Here's a pair of cheeks! I wish you'd get a color like this, Fanny,"said Mr. Shaw, as Polly came into the dining-room after smoothing herhair.
"Your nose is as red as that cranberry sauce," answered Fan, coming outof the big chair where she had been curled up for an hour or two, deepin "Lady Audley's Secret."
"So it is," said Polly, shutting one eye to look at the offendingfeature. "Never mind; I've had a good time, anyway," she added, givinga little prance in her chair.
"I don't see much fun in these cold runs you are so fond of taking,"said Fanny, with a yawn and a shiver.
"Perhaps you would if you tried it;" and Polly laughed as she glanced atTom.
"Did you go alone, dear?" asked grandma, patting the rosy cheek besideher.
"Yes'm; but I met Tom, and we came home together." Polly's eyestwinkled when she said that, and Tom choked in his soup.
"Thomas, leave the table!" commanded Mr. Shaw, as his incorrigible songurgled and gasped behind his napkin.
"Please don't send him away, sir. I made him laugh," said Polly,penitently.
"What's the joke?" asked Fanny, waking up at last.
"I should n't think you'd make him laugh, when he's always making youcwy," observed Maud, who had just come in.
"What have you been doing now, sir?" demanded Mr. Shaw, as Tom emerged,red and solemn, from his brief obscurity.
"Nothing but coast," he said, gruffly, for papa was always lecturinghim, and letting the girls do just as they liked.
"So's Polly; I saw her. Me and Blanche were coming home just now, andwe saw her and Tom widing down the hill on his sled, and then he dwaggedher ever so far!" cried Maud, with her mouth full.
"You did n't?" and Fanny dropped her fork with a scandalized face.
"Yes, I did, and liked it ever so much," answered Polly, looking anxiousbut resolute.
"Did any one see you?" cried Fanny.
"Only some little girls, and Tom."
"It was horridly improper; and Tom ought to have told you so, if you didn't know any better. I should be mortified to death if any of my friendssaw you," added Fan, much disturbed.
"Now, don't you scold. It's no harm, and Polly shall coast if she wantsto; may n't she, grandma?" cried Tom, gallantly coming to the rescue,and securing a powerful ally.
"My mother lets me; and if I don't go among the boys, I can't see whatharm there is in it," said Polly, before Madam could speak.
"People do many things in the country that are not proper here," beganMrs. Shaw, in her reproving tone.
"Let the child do it if she likes, and take Maud with her. I should beglad to have one hearty girl in my house," interrupted Mr. Shaw, andthat was the end of it.
"Thank you, sir," said Polly, gratefully, and nodded at Tom, whotelegraphed back "All right!" and fell upon his dinner with the appetiteof a young wolf.
"Oh, you sly-boots! you're getting up a flirtation with Tom, are you?"whispered Fanny to her friend, as if much amused.
"What!" and Polly looked so surprised and indignant, that Fanny wasashamed of herself, and changed the subject by telling her mother sheneeded some new gloves.
Polly was very quiet after that, and the minute dinner was over, sheleft the room to go and have a quiet "think" about the whole matter.Before she got half-way up stairs, she saw Tom coming after, andimmediately sat down to guard her feet. He laughed, and said, as heperched himself on the post of the banisters, "I won't grab you, honorbright. I just wanted to say, if you'll come out to-morrow some time,we'll have a good coast."
"No," said Polly, "I can't come."
"Why not? Are you mad? I did n't tell." And Tom looked amazed at thechange which had come over her.
"No; you kept your word, and stood by me like a good boy. I'm not mad,either; but I don't mean to coast any more. Your mother don't like it."
"That is n't the reason, I know. You nodded to me after she'd freed hermind, and you meant to go then. Come, now, what is it?"
"I shan't tell you; but I'm not going," was Polly's determined answer.
"Well, I did think you had more sense than most girls; but you have n't,and I would n't give a sixpence for you."
"That's polite," said Polly, getting ruffled.
"Well, I hate cowards."
"I ain't a coward."
"Yes, you are. You're afraid of what folks will say; ain't you, now?"
Polly knew she was, and held her peace, though she longed to speak; buthow could she?
"Ah, I knew you'd back out." And Tom walked away with an air of scornthat cut Polly to the heart.
"It's too bad! Just as he was growing kind to me, and I was going tohave a good time, it's all spoilt by Fan's nonsense. Mrs. Shaw don'tlike it, nor grandma either, I dare say. There'll be a fuss if I go,and Fan will plague me; so I'll give it up, and let Tom think I'mafraid. Oh, dear! I never did see such ridiculous people."
Polly shut her door hard, and felt ready to cry with vexation, that herpleasure should be spoilt by such a silly idea; for, of all the sillyfreaks of this fast age, that of little people playing at love is aboutthe silliest. Polly had been taught that it was a very serious andsacred thing; and, according to her notions, it was far more improper toflirt with one boy than to coast with a dozen. She had been much amazed,only the day before, to hear Maud say to her mother, "Mamma, must I havea beau? The girls all do, and say I ought to have Fweddy Love
ll; but Idon't like him as well as Hawry Fiske."
"Oh, yes; I'd have a little sweetheart, dear, it's so cunning,"answered Mrs. Shaw. And Maud announced soon after that she was engagedto "Fweddy,'cause Hawry slapped her" when she proposed the match.
Polly laughed with the rest at the time; but when she thought of itafterward, and wondered what her own mother would have said, if littleKitty had put such a question, she did n't find it cunning or funny, butridiculous and unnatural. She felt so now about herself; and when herfirst petulance was over, resolved to give up coasting and everythingelse, rather than have any nonsense with Tom, who, thanks to hisneglected education, was as ignorant as herself of the charms of thisnew amusement for school-children. So Polly tried to console herselfby jumping rope in the back-yard, and playing tag with Maud in thedrying-room, where she likewise gave lessons in "nas-gim-nics," as Maudcalled it, which did that little person good. Fanny came up sometimesto teach them a new dancing step, and more than once was betrayed intoa game of romps, for which she was none the worse. But Tom turned a coldshoulder to Polly, and made it evident, by his cavalier manner that hereally did n't think her "worth a sixpence."
Another thing that troubled Polly was her clothes, for, though no onesaid anything, she knew they were very plain; and now and then shewished that her blue and mouse colored merinos were rather more trimmed,her sashes had bigger bows, and her little ruffles more lace on them.She sighed for a locket, and, for the first time in her life, thoughtseriously of turning up her pretty curls and putting on a "wad." Shekept these discontents to herself, however, after she had written to askher mother if she might have her best dress altered like Fanny's, andreceived this reply: "No, dear; the dress is proper and becoming as itis, and the old fashion of simplicity the best for all of us. I don'twant my Polly to be loved for her clothes, but for herself; so wear theplain frocks mother took such pleasure in making for you, and let thepanniers go. The least of us have some influence in this big world;and perhaps my little girl can do some good by showing others that acontented heart and a happy face are better ornaments than any Paris cangive her. You want a locket, deary; so I send one that my mother gave meyears ago. You will find father's face on one side, mine on the other;and when things trouble you, just look at your talisman, and I think thesunshine will come back again."
Of course it did, for the best of all magic was shut up in the quaintlittle case that Polly wore inside her frock, and kissed so tenderlyeach night and morning. The thought that, insignificant as she was, sheyet might do some good, made her very careful of her acts and words, andso anxious to keep head contented and face happy, that she forgot herclothes, and made others do the same. She did not know it, but that goodold fashion of simplicity made the plain gowns pretty, and the grace ofunconsciousness beautified their little wearer with the charm thatmakes girlhood sweetest to those who truly love and reverence it. Onetemptation Polly had already yielded to before the letter came, andrepented heartily of afterward.
"Polly, I wish you'd let me call you Marie," said Fanny one day, asthey were shopping together.
"You may call me Mary, if you like; but I won't have any ie put on to myname. I'm Polly at home and I'm fond of being called so; but Marie isFrenchified and silly."
"I spell my own name with an ie, and so do all the girls."
"And what a jumble of Netties, Nellies, Hatties, and Sallies there is.How 'Pollie' would look spelt so!"
"Well, never mind; that was n't what I began to say. There's one thingyou must have, and that is, bronze boots," said Fan, impressively.
"Why must I, when I've got enough without?"
"Because it's the fashion to have them, and you can't be finished offproperly without. I'm going to get a pair, and so must you."
"Don't they cost a great deal?"
"Eight or nine dollars, I believe. I have mine charged; but it don'tmatter if you have n't got the money. I can lend you some."
"I've got ten dollars to do what I like with; but it's meant to getsome presents for the children." And Polly took out her purse in anundecided way.
"You can make presents easy enough. Grandma knows all sorts of nicecontrivances. They'll do just as well; and then you can get yourboots."
"Well; I'll look at them," said Polly, following Fanny into the store,feeling rather rich and important to be shopping in this elegant manner.
"Are n't they lovely? Your foot is perfectly divine in that boot, Polly.Get them for my party; you'll dance like a fairy," whispered Fan.
Polly surveyed the dainty, shining boot with the scalloped top, thejaunty heel, and the delicate toe, thought her foot did look very wellin it, and after a little pause, said she would have them. It was allvery delightful till she got home, and was alone; then, on looking intoher purse, she saw one dollar and the list of things she meant to getfor mother and the children. How mean the dollar looked all alone! andhow long the list grew when there was nothing to buy the articles.
"I can't make skates for Ned, nor a desk for Will; and those are whatthey have set their hearts upon. Father's book and mother's collar areimpossible now; and I'm a selfish thing to go and spend all mymoney for myself. How could I do it?" And Polly eyed the new bootsreproachfully, as they stood in the first position as if ready for theparty. "They are lovely; but I don't believe they will feel good, forI shall be thinking about my lost presents all the time," sighed Polly,pushing the enticing boots out of sight. "I'll go and ask grandma whatI can do; for if I've got to make something for every one, I must beginright away, or I shan't get done;" and off she bustled, glad to forgether remorse in hard work.
Grandma proved equal to the emergency, and planned something for everyone, supplying materials, taste, and skill in the most delightfulmanner. Polly felt much comforted; but while she began to knit a prettypair of white bed-socks, to be tied with rose-colored ribbons, forher mother, she thought some very sober thoughts upon the subject oftemptation; and if any one had asked her just then what made her sigh,as if something lay heavy on her conscience, she would have answered,"Bronze boots."