CHAPTER IV. LITTLE THINGS
"IT'S so wainy, I can't go out, and evwybody is so cwoss they won'tplay with me," said Maud, when Polly found her fretting on the stairs,and paused to ask the cause of her wails.
"I'll play with you; only don't scream and wake your mother. What shallwe play?"
"I don't know; I'm tired of evwything,'cause my toys are all bwoken,and my dolls are all sick but Clawa," moaned Maud, giving a jerk to theParis doll which she held upside down by one leg in the most unmaternalmanner.
"I'm going to dress a dolly for my little sister; would n't you liketo see me do it?" asked Polly, persuasively, hoping to beguile the crosschild and finish her own work at the same time.
"No, I should n't,'cause she'll look nicer than my Clawa. Her clotheswon't come off; and Tom spoilt'em playing ball with her in the yard."
"Would n't you like to rip these clothes off, and have me show you howto make some new ones, so you can dress and undress Clara as much as youlike?"
"Yes; I love to cut." And Maud's, face brightened; for destructivenessis one of the earliest traits of childhood, and ripping was Maud'sdelight.
Establishing themselves in the deserted dining-room, the children fellto work; and when Fanny discovered them, Maud was laughing with allher heart at poor Clara, who, denuded of her finery, was cutting up allsorts of capers in the hands of her merry little mistress.
"I should think you'd be ashamed to play with dolls, Polly. I have n'ttouched one this ever so long," said Fanny, looking down with a superiorair.
"I ain't ashamed, for it keeps Maud happy, and will please my sisterKitty; and I think sewing is better than prinking or reading sillynovels, so, now." And Polly stitched away with a resolute air, for sheand Fanny had had a little tiff; because Polly would n't let her frienddo up her hair "like other folks," and bore her ears.
"Don't be cross, dear, but come and do something nice, it's so dullto-day," said Fanny, anxious to be friends again, for it was doubly dullwithout Polly.
"Can't; I'm busy."
"You always are busy. I never saw such a girl. What in the world do youfind to do all the time?" asked Fanny, watching with interest the set ofthe little red merino frock Polly was putting on to her doll.
"Lots of things; but I like to be lazy sometimes as much as you do; justlie on the sofa, and read fairy stories, or think about nothing. Wouldyou have a white-muslin apron or a black silk?" added Polly, surveyingher work with satisfaction.
"Muslin, with pockets and tiny blue bows. I'll show you how." Andforgetting her hate and contempt for dolls, down sat Fanny, soon gettingas much absorbed as either of the others.
The dull day brightened wonderfully after that, and the time flewpleasantly, as tongues and needles went together. Grandma peeped in, andsmiled at the busy group, saying, "Sew away, my dears; dollies are safecompanions, and needlework an accomplishment that's sadly neglectednowadays. Small stitches, Maud; neat button-holes, Fan; cut carefully,Polly, and don't waste your cloth. Take pains; and the best needlewomanshall have a pretty bit of white satin for a doll's bonnet."
Fanny exerted herself, and won the prize, for Polly helped Maud, andneglected her own work; but she did n't care much, for Mr. Shaw said,looking at the three bright faces at the tea-table, "I guess Polly hasbeen making sunshine for you to-day." "No, indeed, sir, I have n't doneanything, only dress Maud's doll."
And Polly did n't think she had done much; but it was one of the littlethings which are always waiting to be done in this world of ours, whererainy days come so often, where spirits get out of tune, and duty won'tgo hand in hand with pleasure. Little things of this sort are especiallygood work for little people; a kind little thought, an unselfish littleact, a cheery little word, are so sweet and comfortable, that no one canfail to feel their beauty and love the giver, no matter how small theyare. Mothers do a deal of this sort of thing, unseen, unthanked, butfelt and remembered long afterward, and never lost, for this is thesimple magic that binds hearts together, and keeps home happy. Polly hadlearned this secret.
She loved to do the "little things" that others did not see, or were toobusy to stop for; and while doing them, without a thought of thanks, shemade sunshine for herself as well as others. There was so much lovein her own home, that she quickly felt the want of it in Fanny's, andpuzzled herself to find out why these people were not kind and patientto one another. She did not try to settle the question, but did herbest to love and serve and bear with each, and the good will, the gentleheart, the helpful ways and simple manners of our Polly made her dearto every one, for these virtues, even in a little child, are lovely andattractive.
Mr. Shaw was very kind to her, for he liked her modest, respectfulmanners; and Polly was so grateful for his many favors, that she soonforgot her fear, and showed her affection in all sorts of confidinglittle ways, which pleased him extremely. She used to walk across thepark with him when he went to his office in the morning, talking busilyall the way, and saying "Good-by" with a nod and a smile when theyparted at the great gate. At first, Mr. Shaw did not care much aboutit; but soon he missed her if she did not come, and found thatsomething fresh and pleasant seemed to brighten all his day, if a small,gray-coated figure, with an intelligent face, a merry voice, and alittle hand slipped confidingly into his, went with him through thewintry park. Coming home late, he liked to see a curly, brown headwatching at the window; to find his slippers ready, his paper in itsplace, and a pair of willing feet, eager to wait upon him. "I wish myFanny was more like her," he often said to himself, as he watched thegirls, while they thought him deep in politics or the state of the moneymarket. Poor Mr. Shaw had been so busy getting rich, that he had notfound time to teach his children to love him; he was more at leisurenow, and as his boy and girls grew up, he missed something. Polly wasunconsciously showing him what it was, and making child-love so sweet,that he felt he could not do without it any more, yet did n't quiteknow how to win the confidence of the children, who had always found himbusy, indifferent, and absentminded.
As the girls were going to bed one night, Polly kissed grandma, asusual, and Fanny laughed at her, saying, "What a baby you are! We aretoo old for such things now."
"I don't think people ever are too old to kiss their fathers andmothers," was the quick answer.
"Right, my little Polly;" and Mr. Shaw stretched out his hand to herwith such a kindly look, that Fanny stared surprised, and then said,shyly, "I thought you did n't care about it, father." "I do, my dear:"And Mr. Shaw put out the other hand to Fanny, who gave him a daughterlykiss, quite forgetting everything but the tender feeling that sprung upin her heart at the renewal of the childish custom which we never needoutgrow.
Mrs. Shaw was a nervous, fussy invalid, who wanted something every fiveminutes; so Polly found plenty of small things to do for her and did,them so cheerfully, that the poor lady loved to have the quiet, helpfulchild near, to wait upon her, read to her, run errands, or hand theseven different shawls which were continually being put on or off.
Grandma, too, was glad to find willing hands and feet to serve her; andPolly passed many happy hours in the quaint rooms, learning all sortsof pretty arts, and listening to pleasant chat, never dreaming how muchsunshine she brought to the solitary old lady.
Tom was Polly's rock ahead for a long time, because he was alwaysbreaking out in a new place, and one never knew where to find him. Hetormented yet amused her; was kind one day, and a bear the next; attimes she fancied he was never going to be bad again, and the next thingshe knew he was deep in mischief, and hooted at the idea of repentanceand reformation. Polly gave him up as a hard case; but was so in thehabit of helping any one who seemed in trouble, that she was good to himsimply because she could n't help it.
"What's the matter? Is your lesson too hard for you?" she asked oneevening, as a groan made her look across the table to where Tom satscowling over a pile of dilapidated books, with his hands in his hair,as if his head was in danger of flying asunder with the tremendouseffort he was making.
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"Hard! Guess it is. What in thunder do I care about the oldCarthaginians? Regulus was n't bad; but I'm sick of him!" And Tom dealt"Harkness's Latin Reader" a thump, which expressed his feelings betterthan words.
"I like Latin, and used to get on well when I studied it with Jimmy.Perhaps I can help you a little bit," said Polly, as Tom wiped his hotface and refreshed himself with a peanut.
"You? pooh! girls' Latin don't amount to much anyway," was the gratefulreply.
But Polly was used to him now, and, nothing daunted, took a look at thegrimy page in the middle of which Tom had stuck. She read it so well,that the young gentleman stopped munching to regard her with respectfulastonishment, and when she stopped, he said, suspiciously, "You are asly one, Polly, to study up so you can show off before me. But it won'tdo, ma'am; turn over a dozen pages, and try again."
Polly obeyed, and did even better than before, saying, as she looked up,with a laugh, "I've been through the whole book; so you won't catch methat way, Tom."
"I say, how came you to know such a lot?" asked Tom, much impressed.
"I studied with Jimmy, and kept up with him, for father let us betogether in all our lessons. It was so nice, and we learned so fast!"
"Tell me about Jimmy. He's your brother, is n't he?"
"Yes; but he's dead, you know. I'll tell about him some other time;you ought to study now, and perhaps I can help you," said Polly, with alittle quiver of the lips.
"Should n't wonder if you could." And Tom spread the book between themwith a grave and business-like air, for he felt that Polly had got thebetter of him, and it behooved him to do his best for the honor of hissex. He went at the lesson with a will, and soon floundered out of hisdifficulties, for Polly gave him a lift here and there, and they wenton swimmingly, till they came to some rules to be learned. Polly hadforgotten them, so they, both committed them to memory; Tom, withhands in his pockets, rocked to and fro, muttering rapidly, while Pollytwisted the little curl on her forehead and stared at the wall, gabblingwith all her might.
"Done!" cried Tom, presently.
"Done!" echoed Polly; and then they heard each other recite till bothwere perfect "That's pretty good fun," said Tom, joyfully, tossing poorHarkness away, and feeling that the pleasant excitement of companionshipcould lend a charm even to Latin Grammar.
"Now, ma'am, we'll take a turn at algibbera. I like that as much as Ihate Latin."
Polly accepted the invitation, and soon owned that Tom could beat herhere. This fact restored his equanimity; but he did n't crow over her,far from it; for he helped her with a paternal patience that madeher eyes twinkle with suppressed fun, as he soberly explained andillustrated, unconsciously imitating Dominie Deane, till Polly found itdifficult to keep from laughing in his face.
"You may have another go at it any, time you like," generously remarkedTom, as he shied the algebra after the Latin Reader.
"I'll come every evening, then. I'd like to, for I have n't studied abit since I came. You shall try and make me like algebra, and I'll tryand make you like Latin, will you?"
"Oh, I'd like it well enough, if there was any one explain it to me.Old Deane puts us through double-quick, and don't give a fellow time toask questions when we read."
"Ask your father; he knows."
"Don't believe he does; should n't dare to bother him, if he did."
"Why not?"
"He'd pull my ears, and call me a'stupid,' or tell me not to worryhim."
"I don't think he would. He's very kind to me, and I ask lots ofquestions."
"He likes you better than he does me."
"Now, Tom! it's wrong of you to say so. Of course he loves you ever somuch more than he does me," cried Polly, reprovingly.
"Why don't he show it then?" muttered Tom, with a half-wistful,half-defiant glance toward the library door, which stood ajar.
"You act so, how can he?" asked Polly, after a pause, in which she putTom's question to herself, and could find no better reply than the oneshe gave him.
"Why don't he give me my velocipede? He said, if I did well at schoolfor a month, I should have it; and I've been pegging away like fury formost six weeks, and he don't do a thing about it. The girls get theirduds, because they tease. I won't do that anyway; but you don't catch mestudying myself to death, and no pay for it."
"It is too bad; but you ought to do it because it's right, andnever mind being paid," began Polly, trying to be moral, but secretlysympathizing heartily with poor Tom.
"Don't you preach, Polly. If the governor took any notice of me, andcared how I got on, I would n't mind the presents so much; but he don'tcare a hang, and never even asked if I did well last declamation day,when I'd gone and learned 'The Battle of Lake Regillus,' because hesaid he liked it."
"Oh, Tom! Did you say that? It's splendid! Jim and I used to sayHoratius together, and it was such fun. Do speak your piece to me, I doso like 'Macaulay's Lays.'"
"It's dreadful long," began Tom; but his face brightened, for Polly'sinterest soothed his injured feelings, and he was glad to prove hiselocutionary powers. He began without much spirit; but soon the martialring of the lines fired him, and before he knew it, he was on his legsthundering away in grand style, while Polly listened with kindlingface and absorbed attention. Tom did declaim well, for he quite forgothimself, and delivered the stirring ballad with an energy thatmade Polly flush and tingle with admiration and delight, and quiteelectrified a second listener, who had heard all that went on, andwatched the little scene from behind his newspaper.
As Tom paused, breathless, and Polly clapped her hands enthusiastically,the sound was loudly echoed from behind him. Both whirled round, andthere was Mr. Shaw, standing in the doorway, applauding with all hismight.
Tom looked much abashed, and said not a word; Polly ran to Mr. Shaw, anddanced before him, saying, eagerly, "Was n't it splendid? Did n't he dowell? May n't he have his velocipede now?"
"Capital, Tom; you'll be an orator yet. Learn another piece like that,and I'll come and hear you speak it. Are you ready for your velocipede,hey?"
Polly was right; and Tom owned that "the governor" was kind, did likehim and had n't entirely forgotten his promise. The boy turned red withpleasure, and picked at the buttons on his jacket, while listening tothis unexpected praise; but when he spoke, he looked straight up in hisfather's face, while his own shone with pleasure, as he answered, in onebreath, "Thankee, sir. I'll do it, sir. Guess I am, sir!"
"Very good; then look out for your new horse tomorrow, sir." And Mr.Shaw stroked the fuzzy red head with a kind hand, feeling a fatherlypleasure in the conviction that there was something in his boy afterall.
Tom got his velocipede next day, named it Black Auster, in memory of thehorse in "The Battle of Lake Regillus," and came to grief as soon as hebegan to ride his new steed.
"Come out and see me go it," whispered Tom to Polly, after three days'practice in the street, for he had already learned to ride in the rink.
Polly and Maud willingly went, and watched his struggles, withdeep interest, till he got an upset, which nearly put an end to hisvelocipeding forever.
"Hi, there! Auster's coming!" shouted Tom, as came rattling down thelong, steep street outside the park.
They stepped aside, and he whizzed by, arms and legs going like mad,with the general appearance of a runaway engine. It would have been atriumphant descent, if a big dog had not bounced suddenly through one ofthe openings, and sent the whole concern helter-skelter into the gutter.Polly laughed as she ran to view the ruin, for Tom lay flat on his backwith the velocipede atop him, while the big dog barked wildly, and hismaster scolded him for his awkwardness. But when she saw Tom's face,Polly was frightened, for the color had all gone out of it, his eyeslooked strange and dizzy, and drops of blood began to trickle from agreat cut on his forehead. The man saw it, too, and had him up in aminute; but he could n't stand, and stared about him in a dazed sort ofway, as he sat on the curbstone, while Polly held her handkerchief tohis forehead, and patheticall
y begged to know if he was killed.
"Don't scare mother, I'm all right. Got upset, did n't I?" he asked,presently, eyeing the prostrate velocipede with more anxiety about itsdamages than his own.
"I knew you'd hurt yourself with that horrid thing just let it be, andcome home, for your head bleeds dreadfully, and everybody is lookingat us," whispered Polly, trying to tie the little handkerchief over theugly cut.
"Come on, then. Jove! how queer my head feels! Give us a boost, please.Stop howling, Maud, and come home. You bring the machine, and I'll payyou, Pat." As he spoke, Tom slowly picked himself and steadying himselfby Polly's shoulder, issued commands, and the procession fell intoline. First, the big dog, barking at intervals; then the good-naturedIrishman, trundling "that divil of a whirligig," as he disrespectfullycalled the idolized velocipede; then the wounded hero, supported by thehelpful Polly; and Maud brought up the rear in tears, bearing Tom's cap.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Shaw was out driving with grandma, and Fanny wasmaking calls; so that there was no one but Polly to stand by Tom, forthe parlor-maid turned faint at the sight of blood, and the chamber-maidlost her wits in the flurry. It was a bad cut, and must be sewed upat once, the doctor said, as soon as he came. "Somebody must hold hishead;" he added, as he threaded his queer little needle.
"I'll keep still, but if anybody must hold me, let Polly. You ain'tafraid, are you?" asked Tom, with imploring look, for he did n't likethe idea of being sewed a bit.
Polly was just going to shrink away, saying, "Oh I can't!" when sheremembered that Tom once called her a coward. Here was a chance to provethat she was n't; besides, poor Tom had no one else to help him; so shecame up to the sofa where he lay, and nodded reassuringly, as she put asoft little hand on either side of the damaged head.
"You are a trump, Polly," whispered Tom. Then he set his teeth, clenchedhis hands, lay quite still, and bore it like a man. It was all over ina minute or two, and when he had had a glass of wine, and was nicelysettled on his bed, he felt pretty comfortable, in spite of the pain inhis head; and being ordered to keep quiet, he said, "Thank you ever somuch, Polly," and watched her with a grateful face as she crept away.
He had to keep the house for a week, and laid about looking veryinteresting with a great black patch on his forehead. Every one'pettedhim;' for the doctor said, that if the blow had been an inch nearerthe temple, it would have been fatal, and the thought of losing him sosuddenly made bluff old Tom very precious all at once. His father askedhim how he was a dozen times a day; his mother talked continually of"that dear boy's narrow escape"; and grandma cockered him up with everydelicacy she could invent; and the girls waited on him like devotedslaves. This new treatment had an excellent effect; for when neglectedTom got over his first amazement at this change of base, he blossomedout delightfully, as sick people do sometimes, and surprised his familyby being unexpectedly patient, grateful, and amiable. Nobody ever knewhow much good it did him; for boys seldom have confidences of this sortexcept with their mothers, and Mrs. Shaw had never found the key to herson's heart. But a little seed was sowed then that took root, and thoughit grew very slowly, it came to something in the end. Perhaps Pollyhelped it a little. Evening was his hardest time, for want of exercisemade him as restless and nervous as it was possible for a hearty lad tobe on such a short notice.
He could n't sleep so the girls amused him; Fanny played and read aloud;Polly sung, and told stories; and did the latter so well, that it gotto be a regular thing for her to begin as soon as twilight came, and Tomwas settled in his favorite place on grandma's sofa.
"Fire away, Polly," said the young sultan, one evening, as his littleScheherazade sat down in her low chair, after stirring up the fire tillthe room was bright and cosy.
"I don't feel like stories to-night, Tom. I've told all I know, andcan't make up any more," answered Polly, leaning her head on her handwith a sorrowful look that Tom had never seen before. He watched her aminute, and then asked, curiously, "What were you thinking about, justnow, when you sat staring at the fire, and getting soberer and sobererevery minute?
"I was thinking about Jimmy."
"Would you mind telling about him? You know, you said you would sometime; but don't, if you'd rather not," said Tom, lowering his roughvoice respectfully.
"I like to talk about him; but there is n't much to tell," began Polly,grateful for his interest. "Sitting here with you reminded me of theway I used to sit with him when he was sick. We used to have such happytimes, and it's so pleasant to think about them now."
"He was awfully good, was n't he?"
"No, he was n't; but he tried to be, and mother says that is half thebattle. We used to get tired of trying; but we kept making resolutions,and working hard to keep'em. I don't think I got on much; but Jimmydid, and every one loved him."
"Did n't you ever squabble, as we do?"
"Yes, indeed, sometimes; but we could n't stay mad, and always made itup again as soon as we could. Jimmy used to come round first, and say,'All serene, Polly,' so kind and jolly, that I could n't help laughingand being friends right away."
"Did he not know a lot?"
"Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, sohe could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I felt soproud to hear it; but they did n't know half how wise he was, becausehe did n't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grand of theirbrothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much right to be as Ihad."
"Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that shows youdon't know much about it."
"Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys were askind to them as Jimmy was to me."
"Why, what did he do?"
"Loved me dearly, and was n't ashamed to show it," cried Polly, with asob in her voice, that made her answer very eloquent.
"What made him die, Polly?" asked Tom, soberly, after little pause.
"He got hurt coasting, last winter; but he never told which boy didit, and he only lived a week. I helped take care of him; and he was sopatient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain all time.He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens, and his bigknife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the last thing and thenO Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"
Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips tremblingmore and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by," shecould n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried as herheart would break. Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't know how toshow it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and trying to think ofsomething proper and comfortable to say, when Fanny came to the rescue,and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothing little pats and whispersand kisses, till the tears stopped, and Polly said, she "did n't meanto, and would n't any more. I've been thinking about my dear boy allthe evening, for Tom reminds me of him," she added, with a sigh.
"Me? How can I, when I ain't a bit like him?" cried Tom, amazed.
"But you are in some ways."
"Wish I was; but I can't be, for he was good, you know."
"So are you, when you choose. Has n't he been good and patient, anddon't we all like to pet him when he's clever, Fan?"' said Polly, whoseheart was still aching for her brother, and ready for his sake to findvirtues even in tormenting Tom.
"Yes; I don't know the boy lately; but he'll be as bad as ever whenhe's well," returned Fanny, who had n't much faith in sick-bedrepentances.
"Much you know about it," growled Tom, lying down again, for he had satbolt upright when Polly made the astounding declaration that he waslike the well-beloved Jimmy. That simple little history had made a deepimpression on Tom, and the tearful ending touched the tender spotthat most boys hide so carefully. It is very pleasant to be loved andadmired, very sweet to think we shall be missed and mourned when we die;and Tom was seized with a sudden desire to imitate this boy, who had n'tdone anything wonderful, yet was so dear to his sister, that she criedfor him a whole year after he was
dead; so studious and clever, thepeople called him "a fine fellow"; and so anxious to be good, that hekept on trying, till he was better even than Polly, whom Tom privatelyconsidered a model of virtue, as girls go.
"I just wish I had a sister like you," he broke out, all of a sudden.
"And I just wish I had a brother like Jim," cried Fanny, for she feltthe reproach in Tom's words, and knew she deserved it.
"I should n't think you'd envy anybody, for you've got one another,"said Polly, with such a wistful look, that it suddenly set Tom and Fannyto wondering why they did n't have better times together, and enjoythemselves, as Polly and Jim did.
"Fan don't care for anybody but herself," said Tom.
"Tom is such a bear," retorted Fanny.
"I would n't say such things, for if anything should happen to either ofyou, the other one would feel so sorry. Every cross word I ever said toJimmy comes back now, and makes me wish I had n't."
Two great tears rolled down Polly's cheeks, and were quietly wiped away;but I think they watered that sweet sentiment, called fraternal love,which till now had been neglected in the hearts of this brother andsister. They did n't say anything then, or make any plans, or confessany faults; but when they parted for the night, Fanny gave the woundedhead a gentle pat (Tom never would have forgiven her if she had kissedhim), and said, in a whisper, "I hope you'll have a good sleep, Tommy,dear."
And Tom nodded back at her, with a hearty "Same to you, Fan."
That was all; but it meant a good deal, for the voices were kind,and the eyes met full of that affection which makes words of littleconsequence. Polly saw it; and though she did n't know that she hadmade the sunshine, it shone back upon her so pleasantly, that she fellhappily asleep, though her Jimmy was n't there to say "good-night."