advised her mother's approval, and even Grandma Bascom said, “Go.” “I
can't go and leave mammy to do all the work.”
“But don't you see, Polly,” said Mrs. Henderson, drawing her to her
side, “that you will help your mother twice as much as you possibly
could here, by getting a good education? Think what your music will be;
only think, Polly!”
Polly drew a long breath at this and turned away.
“Oh, Polly!” cried Ben, though his voice choked, “if you give this up,
there never'll be another chance,” and the boy put his arm around her,
and whispered something in her ear.
“I know,” said Polly quietly--and then she burst out, “oh, but I can't!
'tisn't right.”
“Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper--and never in all their lives had the children
seen such a look in mamsie's eyes as met them then; “it does seem as
if my heart would be broken if you didn't go!” And then she burst out
crying, right before them all!
“Oh mammy,” cried Polly, breaking away from everybody, and flinging
herself into her arms. “I'll go--if you think I ought to. But it's too
good! don't cry--don't, mammy dear,” and Polly stroked the careworn face
lovingly, and patted the smooth hair that was still so black.
“And, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, smiling through her tears, “just think
what a comfort you'll be to me, and us all,” she added, taking in the
children who were crowding around Polly as the centre of attraction.
“Why, you'll be the making of us,” she added hopefully.
“I'll do something,” said Polly, her brown eyes kindling, “or I shan't
be worthy of you, mammy.”
“O, you'll do it,” said Mrs. Pepper, confidently, “now that you're
going.”
But when Polly stepped into the stage, with her little hair trunk
strapped on behind, containing her one brown merino that Mrs. Henderson
had made over for her out of one of her own, and her two new ginghams,
her courage failed again, and she astonished everybody, and nearly upset
a mild-faced old lady who was in the corner placidly eating doughnuts,
by springing out and rushing up through the little brown gate, past
all the family, drawn up to see her off. She flew over the old flat
door-stone, and into the bedroom, where she flung herself down between
the old bed and Phronsie's crib, in a sudden torrent of tears. “I can't
go!” she sobbed--“oh I can't!”
“Why, Polly!” cried Mrs. Pepper, hurrying in, followed by Joel and the
rest of the troops at his heels. “What are you thinking of!”
“Think of by-and-by, Polly,” put in Ben, patting her on the back with
an unsteady hand, while Joel varied the proceedings by running back
and forth, screaming at the top of his lungs, “The stage's going! your
trunk'll be taken!”
“Dear me!” ejaculated Mrs. Pepper, “do stop it somebody! there, Polly,
come now! Do as mother says!”
“I'll try again,” said poor Polly, choking back her sobs, and getting on
her feet.
Then Polly's tears were wiped away, her hat straightened, after which
she was kissed all round again by the whole family, Phronsie waiting
for the last two, and then was helped again into the stage, the bags and
parcels, and a box for Jappy, which, as it wouldn't go into the trunk,
Joel had insisted Polly should carry in her hand, were again piled
around her, and Mr. Tisbett mounted to his seat, and with a crack of the
whip, bore her safely off this time.
The doughnut lady, viewing poor Polly with extreme sympathy, immediately
forced upon her acceptance three of the largest and sugariest.
“Twill do you good,” she said, falling to, herself, on another with
good zeal. “I always eat 'em, and then there ain't any room for
homesickness!”
And away, and away, and away they rumbled and jumbled to the cars.
Here Mr. Tisbett put Polly and her numerous bundles under the care of
the conductor, with manifold charges and explicit directions, to see her
safely into Mr. King's own hands. He left her sitting straight up among
her parcels, her sturdy little figure drawn up to its full height, and
the clear brown eyes regaining a little of their dancing light; for
although a dreadful feeling tugged at her heart, as she thought of the
little brown house she was fast flying away from, there was something
else; our Polly had begun to realize that now she was going to “help
mother.”
And now they neared the big city, and everybody began to bustle around,
and get ready to jump out, and the minute the train stopped, the crowd
poured out from the cars, making way for the crowd pouring in, for this
was a through train.
“All aboard!” sang the conductor. “Oh my senses!” springing to Polly; “I
forgot you--here!”
But as quick as a flash he was pushed aside, and a bright, boyish figure
dashed up.
“Oh, Polly!” he said in such a ringing voice! and in another second,
Polly and her bag, and the bundle of cakes and apples that Grandma
Bascom had put up for her, and Joel's box, were one and all bundled
out upon the platform, and the train whizzed on, and there Mr. King was
fuming up and down, berating the departing conductor, and speaking
his mind in regard to all the railroad officials he could think of. He
pulled himself up long enough to give Polly a hearty welcome; and then
away again he flew in righteous indignation, while Jasper rushed off
into the baggage room with Polly's check.
However, every now and then, turning to look down into the little rosy
face beside him, the old gentleman would burst forth, “Bless me, child!
I'm glad you're here, Polly!--how could the fellow forget when--”
“Oh well, you know,” said Polly, with a happy little wriggle under her
brown coat, “I'm here now.”
“So you are! so you are!” laughed the old gentleman suddenly; “where can
Jasper be so long.”
“They're all in the carriage,” answered the boy skipping back. “Now,
father! now Polly!”
He was fairly bubbling over with joy and Mr. King forgot his dudgeon and
joined in the general glee, which soon became so great that travellers
gave many a glance at the merry trio who bundled away to Thomas and the
waiting grays.
“You're sure you've got the right check?” asked Mr. King, nervously,
getting into a handsome coach lined with dark green satin, and settling
down among its ample cushions with a sigh of relief.
“Oh yes,” laughed Jasper; “Polly didn't have any one else's check, I
guess.”
Over through the heart of the city, down narrow, noisy business
streets, out into wide avenues, with handsome stately mansions on either
side--they flew along.
“Oh,” said Polly; and then she stopped, and blushed very hard.
“What is it, my dear?” asked Mr. King, kindly.
Polly couldn't speak at first, but when Jasper stopped his merry chat
and begged to know what it was, she turned on him, and burst out, “You
live here?”
“Why, yes,” laughed the boy; “why not?”
“Oh!” said Polly again, her cheeks as red as two roses, “it's so
lovely!”
And then the carriage turned in at a brown stone gateway, and winding
up among some fine old trees, stopped before a large, stately residence
that in Polly's eyes seemed like one of the castles of Ben's famous
stories. And then Mr. King got out, and gallantly escorted Polly out,
and up the steps, while Jasper followed with Polly's bag which he
couldn't be persuaded to resign to Thomas. A stiff waiter held the door
open--and then, the rest was only a pleasant, confused jumble of kind
welcoming words, smiling faces, with a background of high spacious
walls, bright pictures, and soft elegant hangings, everything and all
inextricably mixed--till Polly herself seemed floating--away--away, fast
to the Fairyland of her dreams; now, Mr. King was handing her around,
like a precious parcel, from one to the other--now Jasper was bobbing
in and out everywhere, introducing her on all sides, and then Prince
was jumping up and trying to lick her face every minute--but best of all
was, when a lovely face looked down into hers, and Jasper's sister bent
to kiss her.
“I am very glad to have you here, little Polly.” The words were simple,
but Polly, lifting up her clear brown eyes, looked straight into the
heart of the speaker, and from that moment never ceased to love her.
“It was a good inspiraton,” thought Mrs. Whitney to herself; “this
little girl is going to be a comfort, I know.” And then she set herself
to conduct successfully her three boys into friendliness and good
fellowship with Polly, for each of them was following his own sweet will
in the capacity of host, and besides staring at her with all his might,
was determined to do the whole of the entertaining, a state of things
which might become unpleasant. However, Polly stood it like a veteran.
“This little girl must be very tired,” said Mrs. Whitney, at last with a
bright smile. “Besides I am going to have her to myself now.”
“Oh, no, no,” cried little Dick in alarm; “why, she's just come; we want
to see her.”
“For shame, Dick!” said Percy, the eldest, a boy of ten years, who took
every opportunity to reprove Dick in public; “she's come a great ways,
so she ought to rest, you know.”
“You wanted her to come out to the greenhouse yourself, you know you
did,” put in Van, the next to Percy, who never would be reproved or
patronized, “only she wouldn't go.”
“You'll come down to dinner,” said Percy, politely, ignoring Van. “Then
you won't be tired, perhaps.”
“Oh, I'm not very tired now,” said Polly, brightly, with a merry little
laugh, “only I've never been in the cars before, and--”
“Never been in the cars before!” exclaimed Van, crowding up, while Percy
made a big round O with his mouth, and little Dick's eyes stretched to
their widest extent.
“No,” said Polly simply, “never in all my life.”
“Come, dear,” said sister Marian, rising quickly, and taking Polly's
hand; while Jasper, showing unmistakable symptoms of pitching into all
the three boys, followed with the bag.
Up the broad oak staircase they went, Polly holding by Mrs. Whitney's
soft hand, as if for dear life, and Jasper tripping up two steps at a
time, in front of them. They turned after reaching the top, down a hall
soft to the foot and brightly lighted.
“Now, Polly,” said sister Marian, “I'm going to have you here, right
next to my dressing room; this is your nest, little bird, and I hope
you'll be very happy in it.”
And here Mrs. Whitney turned up the gas, and then, just because she
couldn't help it, gathered Polly up in her arms without another word.
Jasper set down the bag on a chair, and came and stood by his sister's
side, looking down at her as she stroked the brown wavy hair on her
bosom.
“It's so nice to have Polly here, sister,” he said, and he put his hand
on Mrs. Whitney's neck; and then with the other hand took hold of both
of Polly's chubby ones, who looked up and smiled; and in that smile the
little brown house seemed to hop right out, and bring back in a flash
all the nice times those eight happy weeks had brought him.
“Oh, 'twas so perfectly splendid, sister Marian,” he cried, flinging
himself down on the floor by her chair. “You don't know what good times
we had--does she, Polly?” and then he launched out into a perfect
shower of “Don't you remember this?” or “Oh, Polly! you surely haven't
forgotten that!” Mrs. Whitney good naturedly entering into it and
enjoying it all with them, until, warned by the lateness of the hour,
she laughingly reminded Jasper of dinner, and dismissed him to prepare
for it.
When the three boys saw Polly coming in again, they welcomed her with
a cordial shout, for one and all, after careful measurement of her,
had succumbed entirely to Polly; and each was unwilling that the others
should get ahead of him in her regard.
“This is your seat, Polly,” said sister Marian, touching the chair next
to her own.
Thereupon a small fight ensued between the little Whitneys, while Jasper
looked decidedly discomfited.
“Let Polly sit next to me,” said Van, as if a seat next to him was of
all things most to be desired.
“Oh, no, I want her,” said little Dick.
“Pshaw, Dick! you're too young,” put in Percy. “You'd spill the bread
and butter all over her.”
“I wouldn't either,” said little Dick, indignantly, and beginning to
crawl into his seat; “I don't spill bread and butter, now Percy, you
know.”
“See here,” said Jasper, decidedly, “she's coming up here by father
and me; that is, sister Marian,” he finished more politely, “if you're
willing.”
All this while Polly had stood quietly watching the group, the big,
handsome table, the bright lights, and the well-trained servants with
a curious feeling at her heart--what were the little-brown-house-people
doing?
“Polly shall decide it,” said sister Marian, laughing. “Now, where
will you sit, dear?” she added, looking down on the little quiet figure
beside her.
“Oh, by Jappy, please,” said Polly, quickly, as if there could be no
doubt; “and kind Mr. King,” she added, smiling at him.
“That's right; that's right, my dear,” cried the old gentleman, pleased
beyond measure at her honest choice. And he pulled out her chair, and
waited upon her into it so handsomely that Polly was happy at once;
while Jasper, with a proud toss of his dark, wavy hair, marched up
delightedly, and took the chair on her other side.
And now, in two or three minutes it seemed as if Polly had always been
there; it was the most natural thing in the world that sister Marian
should smile down the table at the bright-faced narrator, who answered
all their numerous questions, and entertained them all with accounts of
Ben's skill, of Phronsie's cunning ways, of the boys who made fun for
all, and above everything else of the dear mother whom they all longed
to help, and of all the sayings and doings in the little brown house. No
wonder that the little boys forgot to eat; and for once never thought of
the attractions of the table. And when, as they left the table at last,
little Dick rushed impulsively up to Polly, and flinging himself into
her arms, declared, “I love you!--and you're my sister!” Nothing more
was needed to make Polly feel at home.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Whitney, and nodded to herself in the saying, “it was a
good thing; and a comfort, I believe, has come to this house this day!”
BRAVE WORK AND THE REWARD
And on the very first morrow came Polly's music teacher!
The big drawing-room, with its shaded light and draped furniture, with
its thick soft carpet, on which no foot-fall could be heard, with all
its beauty and loveliness on every side was nothing to Polly's eyes,
only the room that contained the piano!
That was all she saw! And when the teacher came he was simply the Fairy
(an ugly little one, it is true, but still a most powerful being) who
was to unlock its mysteries, and conduct her into Fairyland itself. He
was a homely little Frenchman, with a long, curved nose, and an enormous
black moustache, magnificently waxed, who bowed elaborately, and called
her “Mademoiselle Pep-paire;” but he had music in his soul, and Polly
couldn't reverence him too much.
And now the big piano gave out new sounds; sounds that told of a strong
purpose and steady patience. Every note was struck for mother and the
home brood. Monsieur Tourtelotte, after watching her keenly out of his
little black eyes, would nod to himself like a mandarin, and the nod
would be followed by showers of extra politeness, as his appreciation of
her patient energy and attention.
Every chance she could get, Polly would steal away into the drawing-room
from Jappy and the three boys and all the attractions they could offer,
and laboriously work away over and over at the tedious scales and
exercises that were to be stepping-stones to so much that was glorious
beyond. Never had she sat still for so long a time in her active little
life; and now, with her arms at just such an angle, with the stiff,
chubby fingers kept under training and restraint--well, Polly realized,
years after, that only her love of the little brown house could ever
have kept her from flying up and spinning around in perfect despair.
“She likes it!” said Percy, in absolute astonishment, one day, when
Polly had refused to go out driving with all the other children in the
park, and had gone resolutely, instead, into the drawing-room and shut
the door. “She likes those hateful old exercises and she don't like
anything else.”
“Much you know about it,” said Jappy; “she's perfectly aching to go, now
Percy Whitney!”
“Well, why don't she then?” said Percy, opening his eyes to their widest
extent.
“Cause,” said Jasper, stopping on his way to the door to look him full
in the face, “she's commenced to learn to play, and there won't anything
stop her.”
“I'm going to try,” said Percy, gleefully. “I know lots of ways I can do
to try, anyway.”
“See here, now,” said Jasper, turning back, “you let her alone! Do
you hear?” he added, and there must have been something in his eye to
command attention, for Percy instantly signified his intention not to
tease this young music student in the least.
“Come on then, old fellow,” and Jasper swung his cap on his head,
“Thomas will be like forty bears if we keep him waiting much longer.”
And Polly kept at it steadily day after day; getting through with the
lessons in the schoolroom as quickly as possible to rush to her music,
until presently the little Frenchman waxed enthusiastic to that degree
that, as day after day progressed and swelled into weeks, and each
lesson came to an end, he would skip away on the tips of his toes, his
nose in the air, and the waxed ends of his moustache, fairly trembling
with delight, “Ah, such patience as Mademoiselle Pep-paire has! I know
no other such little Americane!”
“I think,” said Jasper one evening after dinner, when all the children
were assembled as usual in their favorite place on the big rug in front
of the fire in the library, Prince in the middle of the group, his head
on his paws, watching everything in infinite satisfaction, “that Polly's
getting on in music as I never saw anyone do; and that's a fact!”
“I mean to begin,” said Van, ambitiously, sitting up straight and
staring at the glowing coals. “I guess I will to-morrow,” which
announcement was received with a perfect shout--Van's taste being
anything rather than of a musical nature.
“If you do,” said Jappy, when the merriment had a little subsided, “I
shall go out of the house at every lesson; there won't anyone stay in
it, Van.”
“I can bang all I want to, then,” said Van, noways disturbed by the
reflection, and pulling one of Prince's long ears, “you think you're so
big, Jappy, just because you're thirteen.”
“He's only three ahead of me, Van,” bristled Percy, who never could
forgive Jappy for being his uncle, much less the still greater sin of
having been born three years earlier than himself.
“Three's just as bad as four,” said Van.
“Let's tell stories,” began Polly, who never could remember such goings
on in the little brown house; “we must each tell one,” she added with
the greatest enthusiasm, “and see which will be the biggest and the
best.”
“Oh, no,” said Van, who perfectly revelled in Polly's stories, and who
now forgot his trials in the prospect of one, “You tell, Polly--you tell
alone.”
“Yes, do, Polly,” said Jasper; “we'd rather.”
So Polly launched out into one of her gayest and finest; and soon
they were in such a peal of laughter, and had reached such heights of
enjoyment, that Mr. King popped his head in at the door, and then came
in, and took a seat in a big rocking-chair in the corner to hear the fun
go on.
“Oh, dear,” said Van, leaning back with a long sigh, and wiping his
flushed face as Polly wound up with a triumphant flourish, 'how ever do
you think of such things, Polly Pepper?
“That isn't anything,” said Jappy, bringing his handsome face out into
the strong light; “why, it's just nothing to what she has told time and
again in the little brown house in Badgertown;” and then he caught
sight of Polly's face, which turned a little pale in the firelight as he
spoke; and the brown eyes had such a pathetic droop in them that it went
to the boy's very heart.
Was Polly homesick? and so soon!
POLLY IS COMFORTED
Yes, it must be confessed. Polly was homesick. All her imaginations of
her mother's hard work, increased by her absence, loomed up before her,
till she was almost ready to fly home without a minute's warning. At
night, when no one knew it, the tears would come racing over the poor,
forlorn little face, and would not be squeezed back. It got to be
noticed finally; and one and all redoubled their exertions to make
everything twice as pleasant as ever!
The only place, except in front of the grand piano, where Polly
approached a state of comparative happiness, was in the greenhouse.
Here she would stay, comforted and soothed among the lovely plants and
rich exotics, rejoicing the heart of Old Turner the gardener, who since
Polly's first rapturous entrance, had taken her into his good graces for
all time.
Every chance she could steal after practice hours were over, and after
the clamorous demands of the boys upon her time were fully satisfied,
was seized to fly on the wings of the wind, to the flowers.
But even with the music and flowers the dancing light in the eyes went
down a little; and Polly, growing more silent and pale, moved around
with a little droop to the small figure that had only been wont to fly
through the wide halls and spacious rooms with gay and springing step.
“Polly don't like us,” at last said Van one day in despair. “Then,
dear,” said Mrs. Whitney, “you must be kinder to her than ever;
think what it would be for one of you to be away from home even among
friends.”
“I'd like it first rate to be away from Percy,” said Van, reflectively;
“I wouldn't come back in three, no, six weeks.”
“My son,” said his mamma, “just stop and think how badly you would feel,
if you really couldn't see Percy.”
“Well,” said Van, and he showed signs of relenting a little at that;
“but Percy is perfectly awful, mamma, you don't know; and he feels so
smart too,” he said vindictively.
“Well,” said Mrs. Whitney, softly, “let's think what we can do for
Polly; it makes me feel very badly to see her sad little face.”
“I don't know,” said Van, running over in his mind all the possible ways
he could think of for entertaining anybody, “unless she'd like my new
book of travels--or my velocipede,” he added.
“I'm afraid those wouldn't quite answer the purpose,” said his mamma,
smiling--“especially the last; yet we must think of something.”
But just here Mr. King thought it about time to take matters into his
hands. So, with a great many chucklings and shruggings when no one was
by, he had departed after breakfast one day, simply saying he shouldn't
be back to lunch.
Polly sat in the drawing-room, near the edge of the twilight, practicing
away bravely. Somehow, of all the days when the home feeling was the
strongest, this day it seemed as if she could bear it no longer. If she
could only see Phronsie for just one moment! “I shall have to give up!”
she moaned. “I can't bear it!” and over went her head on the music rack.
“Where is she?” said a voice over in front of the piano, in the
gathering dusk--unmistakably Mr. King's.
“Oh, she's always at the piano,” said Van. “She must be there now,
somewhere,” and then somebody laughed. Then came in the loudest of
whispers from little Dick, “Oh, Jappy, what'll she say?”
“Hush!” said one of the other boys; “do be still, Dick!”
Polly sat up very straight, and whisked off the tears quickly. Up came
Mr. King with an enormous bundle in his arms; and he marched up to the
piano, puffing with his exertions.
“Here, Polly, hold your arms,” he had only strength to gasp. And then he
broke out into a loud burst of merriment, in which all the troop joined,
until the big room echoed with the sound.
At this, the bundle opened suddenly, and--out popped Phronsie!
“Here I'm! I'm here, Polly!”
But Polly couldn't speak; and if Jasper hadn't caught her just in time,
she would have tumbled over backward from the stool, Phronsie and all!
“Aren't you glad I've come, Polly?” asked Phronsie, with her little face
close to Polly's own.
That brought Polly to. “Oh, Phronsie!” she cried, and strained her to
her heart; while the boys crowded around, and plied her with sudden
questions.
“Now you'll stay,” cried Van; “say, Polly, won't you.”
“Weren't you awfully surprised?” cried Percy; “say, Polly, awfully?”
“Is her name Phronsie,” put in Dick, unwilling to be left out, and not
thinking of anything else to ask.