POLLY SINGLETON
Miss Day was having quite a large party for cocoa in her room. She had
invited not only her own chosen friends from Heath Hall, but also two
or three congenial spirits from Katharine Hall. Five or six
merry-looking girls were now assembled in her room. Miss Day’s room was
one of the largest in the college; it was showily furnished, with an
intention to produce a Japanese effect. Several paper lanterns hung
from the ceiling and were suspended to wire supports, which were
fastened to different articles of furniture.
In honor of Miss Day’s cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and the
effect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of color, were
grotesque and almost _bizarre._
Miss Day thought her room lovely. It was dazzling, but the reverse of
reposeful.
The girls were lounging about, chatting and laughing; they were having
a good time and were absolutely at their ease. One, a red-haired girl,
with frank, open blue eyes and a freckled face, an inmate of Katharine
Hall, was sending her companions into fits of laughter.
“Yes,” she was saying in a high, gay voice, “I’m not a bit ashamed of
it; there’s never the least use in not owning the truth. I’m used up,
girls: I haven’t a pennypiece to bless myself with, and this letter
came from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he’ll see Miss Eccleston if I
didn’t pay up. Madame Clarice wrote two nights ago, declaring _her_
intention of visiting Miss Eccleston if I didn’t send her some money. I
shall have no money until next term. There’s a state of affairs!”
“What do you mean to do, Polly?” asked Lucy Marsh in a sympathizing
tone.
“Do? My dear creature, there’s only one thing to be done. I must have
an auction on the quiet. I shall sell my worldly all. I can buy things
again, you know, after dad sends me his next allowance.”
“Oh, Polly, but you cannot really mean it!” Miss Marsh, Miss Day and
two or three more crowded around Polly Singleton as they spoke.
“You can’t mean to have an auction,” began Miss Day; “no one ever heard
of such a thing at St. Benet’s. Why, it would be simply disgraceful!”
“No, it wouldn’t— don’t turn cross, Annie. I’ll have an auction first
and then a great feed in the empty room. I can go on tick for the feed;
Jones, the confectioner, knows better than not to oblige me. He’s not
like that horrid Spilman and that mean Madame Clarice.”
“But, Polly, if you write to your father, he’ll be sure to send you
what you want to clear off those two debts. You have often told us he
has lots of money.”
“My dears, he has more tin than he knows what to do with; but do you
think I am going to have the poor old dear worried? When I was coming
here he said, Polly, you shall have thirty pounds every term to spend
as pocket money; not a penny more, not a penny less. And you must keep
out of debt on it; mind that, Polly Singleton.’ I gave the dear old dad
a hug. He’s the image of me— only with redder hair and more freckles.
And I said, I’ll do my best, dad, and, anyhow, you sha’n’t be put out
whatever happens.’”
“Then you didn’t tell him you’d keep out of debt?”
“No, for I knew I’d break my word. I’ve always been in debt ever since
I could remember. I wouldn’t know how it felt not to owe a lot of
money. It’s habit, and I don’t mind it a bit. But I don’t want dad to
know, and I don’t want Miss Eccleston to know, for perhaps she would
write to him. If those old horrors won’t wait for their money till next
term, why there’s nothing for it but an auction. I have some nice
things and they’ll go very cheap, so there’s a chance for you all,
girls.”
“But if Miss Eccleston finds out?” said Miss Day.
“What if she does? There’s no rule against auctions, and, as I don’t
suppose any of you will have one, it isn’t worth making a rule for me
alone. Anyhow, I’m resolved to risk it. My auction will be on Monday,
and I shall make out an inventory of my goods tomorrow.”
“Will you advertise it on the notice-board in your hall, dear?” asked
Lucy Marsh.
“Why not? A good idea! _The great A. will be held in Miss Singleton’s
room, from eight to ten o’clock on the evening of Monday next. Great
Bargains! Enormous Sacrifice! Things absolutely given away!_ Oh, what
fun! I’ll be my own auctioneer.”
Polly lay back in her armchair and laughed loudly.
“What is all this noise about?” asked a refined little voice, and
Rosalind Merton entered the room.
Two or three girls jumped up at once to greet her.
“Come in, Rosie; you’re just in time. What _do_ you think Miss
Singleton is going to do now?”
“I can’t tell; what?” asked Rosalind. “Something _outre’,_ I feel
certain.”
Polly made a wry face and winked her eyes at her companions.
“I know I’m not refined enough for you, Miss Merton,” she drawled. “I’m
rough, like my dad, rough and ready; but, at any rate, I’m honest— at
least, I think I’m honest. When I owe money, I don’t leave a stone
unturned to pay what I owe. Having sinned, I repent. I enter the Valley
of Humiliation and give up all. Who can do more?”
“Oh, dear, Polly, I don’t think I’d call owing a little money sinning,”
said Lucy Marsh, whose ideas were known to be somewhat lax.
“Well, my dear, there’s nothing for those in debt but to sell their
possessions. My auction is on Monday. Will you come, Rosalind?”
“You don’t mean it,” said Rose, her blue eyes beginning to sparkle.
“Yes, I do, absolutely and truly mean it.”
“And you will sell your things— your lovely things?”
“My things, my lovely, lovely things must be sold.”
“But not your clothes? Your new sealskin jacket, for instance?”
Polly made a wry face for a moment. Putting her hand into her pocket,
she pulled out Spilman’s and Madame Clarice’s two bills.
“I owe a lot,” she said, looking with a rueful countenance at the sum
total. “Yes, I even fear the sealskin must go. I don’t want to part
with it. Dad gave it me just before I came here.”
“It’s a lovely seal,” said Annie Day, “and it seems a sin to part with
it; it’s cut in the most stylish way too, with those high shoulders.”
“Don’t praise it, please,” said Polly, lying back in her chair and
covering her eyes with her hand. “It cuts like a knife to part with
dad’s last present. Well, I’m rightly punished. What a fool I was to
get all those Japanese things from Spilman and that fancy ball-dress
for the theatricals. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
“Perhaps you won’t want to part with your seal, dear,” said Lucy, who
was not so greedy as some of the other girls and really pitied Polly.
“You have so many beautiful things without that, that you will be sure
to realize a good bit of money.”
“No, Lucy, I owe such a lot; the seal must go. Oh, what a worry it is!”
“And at auctions of this kind,” said Rosalind in her low voice, “even
beautiful things don’t realize much. How can they?”
“Rosalind is after that seal,” whispered Lucy to Annie Day.
“The seal would swallow you up, Rosie,” said Annie in a loud voice.
“Don’t aspire to it; you’d never come out alive.”
“The seal can be brought to know good manners,” retorted Rose angrily.
“His size can be diminished and his strength abated. But I have not
said that I want him at all. You do so jump to conclusions, Miss Day.”
“I know what I want,” said a girl called Hetty Jones who had not yet
spoken. “I’m going in for some of Polly’s ornaments. You won’t put too
big a price upon your corals, will you, Poll?”
“I shall bid for your American rocking-chair, Polly,” exclaimed Miss
Day.
“I tell you what you must do, Miss Singleton,” shouted another girl,
“you must get those inventories ready as soon as possible, and send
them around the college for every one to read, for you have got such
nice things that there will be sure to be a great rush at your
auction.”
“Don’t sell any of the college possessions by mistake, my dear,” said
Lucy Marsh. “You would get into trouble then. Indeed, as it is, I don’t
see how you are to keep out of it.”
Polly pushed her hands impatiently through her bright red hair.
“Who’s afraid?” she said, and laughed.
“When are we to see your things, Polly?” asked Miss Jones. “If the
auction is on Monday, there must be a show day, when we can all go
round and inspect. I know that’s always done at auctions, for I’ve been
at several in the country. The show day is the best fun of all. The
farmers’ wives come and pinch the feather-beds between their thumbs and
forefingers and hold the blankets up to the light to see if the moths
have got in.”
“Hetty, how vulgar!” interposed Miss Day. “What has Polly’s auction of
her _recherche’_ things to do with blankets and feather-beds? Now the
cocoa is ready. Who will help me to carry the cups round?”
“I had some fun to-day?” said Rosalind, when each of the girls,
provided with their cups of cocoa, sat round and began to sip. “I took
Miss Propriety to town with me.”
“Oh, did you, darling? Do tell us all about it!” said Annie Day,
running up to Rosalind and taking her hand.
“There isn’t much to tell. She behaved as I expected; her manners are
not graceful, but she’s a deep one.”
“Anybody can see that who looks at her,” remarked Lucy Marsh.
“We went to the Elliot-Smiths’,” continued Rosalind.
“Good gracious, Rosie!” interrupted Hetty Jones. “You don’t mean to say
you took Propriety to _that_ house?”
“Yes; why not? It’s the jolliest house in Kingsdene.”
“But fancy taking poor Propriety there. What did she say?”
“Say? She scolded a good deal.”
“Scolded! Poor little proper thing! How I should have liked to have
seen her. Did she open her purse and exhibit its emptiness to the
company at large? Did she stand on a chair and lecture the frivolous
people who assemble in that house on the emptiness of life? Oh, how I
wish I could have looked on at the fun!”
“You’d have beheld an edifying sight then, my dear,” said Rosalind.
“Prissie’s whole behavior was one to be copied. No words can describe
her tact and grace.”
“But what did she do, Rosie? I wish you would speak out and tell us.
You know you are keeping something back.”
“Whenever she saw me she scolded me, and she tripped over my dress
several times.”
“Oh, you dear, good, patient Rosalind, what a bore she must have been.”
“No, she wasn’t, for I scarcely saw anything of her. She amused herself
capitally without me, I can tell you.”
“Amused herself? Propriety amused herself? How diverting! Could she
stoop to it?”
“She did. She stooped and— conquered. She secured for herself an
adorer.”
“Rosalind, how absurd you are! Poor, Plain Propriety!”
“As long as I live I shall hate the letter P,” suddenly interrupted
Annie Day, “for since that disagreeable girl has got into the house we
are always using it.”
“Never mind, Rosalind; go on with your story,” said Miss Jones. “What
did Plain Propriety do?”
Rosalind threw up her hands, rolled her eyes skyward and uttered the
terse remark:
“She flirted!”
“Oh, Rosie! who would flirt with her? I suppose she got hold of some
old rusty, musty don. But then I do not suppose you’d find that sort of
man at the Elliot-Smiths’.”
This remark came from Lucy Marsh. Rosalind Merton, who was leaning her
fair head against a dark velvet cushion, looked as if she enjoyed the
situation immensely.
“What do you say to a Senior Wrangler?” she asked in a gentle voice.
“Rosalind, what— not _the_ Senior Wrangler?”
Rosalind nodded.
“Oh! oh! oh! what could he see— Geoffrey Hammond, of all people! He’s
so exclusive too.”
“Well,” said Hetty Jones, standing up reluctantly, for she felt it was
time to return to her neglected studies, “wonders will never cease! I
could not have supposed that Mr. Hammond would condescend to go near
the Elliot-Smiths’, and most certainly I should never have guessed that
he would look at a girl like Priscilla Peel.”
“Well, he flirted with her,” said Rosalind, “and she with him. They
were so delighted with one another that I could scarcely get Prissie
away when it was time to leave. They looked quite engrossed— you know
the kind of air— there was no mistaking it!”
“Miss Peel must have thanked you for taking her.”
“Thanked me? That’s not Miss Prissie’s style. I could see she was
awfully vexed at being disturbed.”
“Well, it’s rather shabby,” said Polly Singleton, speaking for the
first time. “Every one at St. Benet’s know whom Mr. Hammond belongs.”
“Yes, yes, of course, of course,” cried several voices.
“And Maggie has been so kind to Miss Peel,” continued Polly.
“Yes— shame!— how mean of little Propriety!” the voices echoed again.
Rosalind gave a meaning glance at Annie Day. Annie raised her eyebrows,
looked interrogative, then her face subsided into a satisfied
expression. She asked no further questions, but she gave Rosalind an
affectionate pat on the shoulder.
Soon the other girls came up one by one to say good night. Rosalind,
Annie and Lucy were alone. They drew their chairs together and began to
talk.