HOW POLLY SPENT HER MONEY.
The first two or three flights of stairs were thickly strewn with mud
and dust from the feet of the different lodgers; but when Pollie reached
the last landing she felt it was home indeed. The stairs were as clean
and white as hands could scrub them--no dirt was to be seen here,--and
outside her mother's door was a little mat on which to rub the shoes
before entering. It was quite a relief to reach this part of the house.
There were only two rooms at the top part of the tenement--one inhabited
by good Mrs Flanagan, the other by Pollie and her mother; and though the
apartments were small, and the narrow windows overlooked the
chimney-pots and tiles, yet they felt it such an advantage to be up
here, removed, as it were, from the noisy people who lived in the same
dwelling; each room, in fact, was let out to separate families, some of
them very rough and boisterous.
Pollie tapped at her mother's door, and then peeped merrily in. There
sat that good and gentle woman, busily working close by the narrow
window, so as to get as much light as possible for her delicate
needlework.
The tea-things were already on the table, which was spread with a clean
white cloth, and the kettle sang a cheery welcome to little Pollie; for
though it was only three o'clock, it was tea-time for them, since dinner
was an almost unknown luxury to this poor mother and child.
"Here I am, mother dear!" she cried, putting in her bright face, which
was as sunshine to the lonely widow's heart.
"O Pollie, I am so glad you have come home; I was getting so anxious
and afraid, and the time seemed so long without you, my child."
Then the little girl ran in and threw her arms around her mother's neck.
"Only look here!" she cried delightedly, when after a loving kiss she
proceeded to display her riches; "see, mother," she said, arranging the
money all in a row on the table, the bright shilling flanked on either
side by five brown pennies; "are we not rich now? sixpence must be paid
to kind Mrs. Flanagan for the sweet violets she got for me, and then we
shall have one shilling and fourpence left, and I shall buy lots of
things for you, mother darling," she concluded, clapping her hands in
glee.
The widow smiled cheerfully as she folded up her work, and prepared to
get their simple meal of tea and bread, listening the while as the child
related the events of the morning.
"And now, mother," she pursued, "I must divide these dear sweet violets
between you and Mrs. Flanagan."
"Then here are two little cups which will be just the thing for them,"
said the happy mother, whose pale face grew brighter as she gazed on the
delighted child.
With the greatest care Pollie divided the flowers equally, and when
putting theirs in the window, so that they might still see some of the
blue sky, as she expressed it, she looked across the Court towards
Lizzie Stevens' home. Yes, there she was, Pollie could see, busy plying
her needle, and there were the violets also, in a broken jam jar close
by her as she sat at work; and raising her pale face towards them, as
though they were old friends returned to her, she caught sight of little
Pollie arranging _her_ bouquet in the window; so with a bright smile
(unwonted visitor to those wan lips) kissed her hand in token of
recognition, and then pointed to the flowers. Pollie quite understood
this little pantomime, and nodded her curly head a great many times to
her opposite neighbour in proof of her so doing.
"Come to tea, my child," said the mother, who had cut some slices of
bread for the frugal repast, but which she had no appetite to eat.
"Wait a bit, mammie dear, I must do some shopping first," exclaimed
Pollie; "I shall not be long." And away she ran, gaily laughing at her
mother's look of surprise.
Down the stairs she went, then out into the Court; and just round the
corner in Drury Lane was a greengrocer's shop, in the window of which
hung a label "New-laid Eggs."
I fear that label told a fiction, but Pollie believed in it, and thought
the eggs were laid by the identical hens she saw earning a scanty living
by pecking in the gutters and among the cabs and carts; so with a
feeling of being very womanly, and tightly grasping the precious
shilling in her hand, she took courage to approach the shopkeeper, who
stood with arms akimbo in the doorway, flanked on one side by potatoes
in bins, and on the other by cabbages and turnips in huge baskets.
"Please, ma'am," said Pollie, "will you let me have a new-laid egg for
mother?"
The woman took an egg from a basket and gave it to her.
"If you please, is it quite fresh? because mother is so poorly, and I
want it to do her good."
The shopkeeper looked at the earnest little face, and somehow felt she
could not tell an untruth to the child, the brown eyes were raised so
trustingly.
"Well, my little gal, I can't say as it be quite fresh, but it's as good
as any you'll get about here."
"Then I'd better not have it," said the child, giving it back to the
woman again; "only I did so want to get her something nice for her
tea,--she can't eat much." And the lips quivered with suppressed sorrow
at the disappointment.
"Why don't you get her a bit of meat instead?" asked the woman; "that'll
do her good, I warrant!"
"Will this buy some?" questioned the child with brightened eyes, and
opening her hand she showed the shilling. "To be sure it will. Here,
give it to me; I'll go and get you one pound of nice pieces at my
brother's next door, if you'll just mind the shop till I come back; you
can be trusted, I see," replied the mistress of the place, whose woman's
heart was touched by the little girl's distress.
Pollie stood where she was left, guarding the baskets with watchful
eyes. Fortunately no mischievous people were about, so the vegetables
were safe, though it was with no small relief she saw their owner return
with such nice pieces of meat wrapped up in clean paper.
"There," said the greengrocer's wife (whose name was Mrs. Smith, by the
way), "these are good and fresh; my brother let me choose them, and have
them cheap too, only fourpence a pound!"
"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am!" cried Pollie, holding up her face to
kiss the kind woman, who, totally unused to such affectionate gratitude
in the poor little waifs about Drury Lane, bent down and returned the
caress with a feeling of unwonted tenderness tugging at her heart.
"And now, please, I should like a bunch of water-cresses for Mrs.
Flanagan," said the child. "I know she is very fond of them with her
tea."
"What are you going to buy for yourself?" asked the shopkeeper, as,
after handing Pollie the freshest bunch in the basket, she stood
watching her tiny customer.
The little girl hesitated; at length she said--
"Well, if I don't get something, mother will want me to eat this meat,
and I mean her to have it all; so I'll buy two little pies in Russell
Court,--one for me, and one for poor little crippled Jimmy."
"You're a good gal," exclaimed the woman. "Here, put these taters in
your basket; maybe your mother would like 'em with the meat, they boil
nice and mealy."
Pollie was so grateful to Mrs. Smith for the kind thought, and held out
her money to pay for this luxury; but to her surprise she told her to
put it back into her pocket--the "taters" were a gift for her mother,
and patting her cheek, bade her run home quickly, and always "be a good
gal."