CHAPTER V.A SAFETY-VALVE.
“Fly caved in, didn’t she?” said Polly to her eldest sister that night.
“Yes, poor little mite, she did, in a touching way,” said Helen; “but she seemed in trouble about something. You know how reserved she is about her feelings, but when she sat on my knee she quite sobbed.”
“I was rather brutal to her,” said Polly, in a nonchalant tone, flinging up the sash of the bed-room window as she spoke, and indulging in a careless whistle.
It was bed-time, but the girls were tempted by the moonlight night to sit up and look out at the still, sweet beauty, and chatter together.
“How could you be unkind to her?” said Helen, in a voice of dismay. “Polly, dear, do shut that window again, or you will have a sore throat. How could you be unkind to poor little Fly, Poll, when she is so devoted to you?”
“The very reason,” said Polly. “She’d never have gone over to you if I hadn’t. I saw rebellion in that young ’un’s eye—that was why I called her out. I was determined to nip it in the bud.”
“But you rebelled yourself?”
“Yes, and I mean to go on rebelling. I am not Fly.”
“Well, Polly,” said Helen, suppressing a heavy sigh on herown account; “you know I don’t want you a bit to obey me. I am not a mistressing sort of girl, and I like to consult you about things, and I want us both to feel more or less as equals. Still father says there are quite two years between us, and that the scheme cannot be worked at all unless some one is distinctly at the head. He particularly spoke of you, Polly, and said that if you would not agree we must go back to the idea of Miss Jenkins, or that he will let this house for a time, and send us all to school.”
“A worse horror than the other,” said Polly. “I wouldn’t be a school-girl for all you could give me! Why, the robin’s nest might be discovered by some one else, and my grubs and chrysalides would come to perfection without me. No, no; rather than that—can’t we effect a compromise, Nell?”
“What is it?” asked Helen. “You knowIam willing to agree to anything. It is father.”
“Oh, yes; poor Nell, you’re the meekest and mildest of mortals. Now, look here, wouldn’t this be fun?”
Polly’s black eyes began to dance.
“You know how fond I always was of housekeeping. Let me housekeep every second week. Give me the money and let me buy every single thing and pay for it, and don’t interfere with me whatever I do. I’ll promise to be as good as gold always, and obey you in every single thing, if only I have this safety-valve. Let me expend myself upon the housekeeping, and I’ll be as good, better than gold. I’ll help you, and be your right hand, Nell; and I’ll obey you in the most public way before all the other girls, and as to Fly, see if I don’t keep her in hand. What do you think of this plan, Nell? I, with my safety-valve, the comfort of your life, a sort of general to keep your forces in order.”
“But you really can’t housekeep, Polly. Of course I’d like to please you, and father said himself you were to help me in the house. But to manage everything—why, it frightens me, and I am two years older.”
“But you have so very little spirit, darling. Now it doesn’t frighten me a bit, and that’s why I’m so certain I shall succeed splendidly. Look here, Nell, let me speak to father, myself; if he says ‘yes,’ you won’t object, will you?”
“Of course not,” said Helen.
“You are a darling—I’ll soon bring father round. Now, shall we go to bed?—I am so sleepy.”
The next morning at breakfast Polly electrified her brothers and sisters by the very meek way in which she appealed to Helen on all occasions.
“Do you think, Nell, that I ought to have any more of this marmalade on fresh bread? I ate half a pot yesterday on three or four slices of hot bread from the oven, and felt quite a dizzy stupid feeling in my head afterwards.”
“Of course, how could you expect it to agree with you, Polly?” said Helen, looking up innocently from her place at the tea-tray.
“Had better have a little of this stale bread-and-butter then, dear?” proceeded Polly in a would-be anxious tone.
“Yes, if you will, dear. But you never like stale bread-and-butter.”
“I’ll eat it if you wish me to, Helen,” answered Polly, in a very meek, good little voice.
The two boys began to chuckle, and even Dr. Maybright looked at his second daughter in a puzzled, abstracted way. Helen, too, colored slightly, and wondered what Polly meant. But the young lady herself munched her stale bread with the most immovable of faces, and even held up the slice for Helen to scrutinize, with the gentle, good little remark—“Have I put too much butter on it, Nell? It isn’t right to waste nice good butter, is it?”
“Oh, Polly, how dreadful you are?” said Fly.
“What do you mean?” said Polly, fiercely.
She dropped her meek manners, gave one quick glare at the small speaker, and then half turning her back on her, said in the gentlest of voices, “What would you like me to do this morning, Helen? Shall I look over my history lesson for an hour, and then practise scales on the piano?”
“You may do just as you please, as far as I am concerned,” replied Helen, who felt that this sort of obedience was far worse for the others than open rebellion. “I thought you wanted to see father, Polly. He has just gone into his study, and perhaps he will give you ten minutes, if you go to him at once.”
This speech of Helen’s caused Polly to forget her role of the meek, obedient martyr. Her brow cleared.
“Thank you for reminding me, Nell,” she said, in her natural voice, and for a moment later she was knocking at the Doctor’s study door.
“Come in,” he said. And when the untidy head and somewhat neglected person of his second daughter appeared, Dr. Maybright walked towards her.
“I am going out, Polly, do you want me?” he said.
“Yes, it won’t take a minute,” said Polly, eagerly. “May I housekeep every second week instead of Nell? Will you give me the money instead of her, and let me pay for everything, and buy the food. I am awfully interested in eggs and butter, and I’ll give you splendid puddings and cakes. Please say yes, father—Nell is quite willing, if you are.”
“How old are you, Polly?” said Dr. Maybright.
He put his hand under Polly’s chin and raised her childish face to scrutinize it closely.
“What matter about my age,” she replied; “I’m fourteen in body—I’m twenty in mind—and as to housekeeping, I’m thirty, if not forty.”
“That head looks very like thirty, if not forty,” responded the Doctor significantly. “And that dress,” glancing at where the hem was torn, and where the body gaped open for want of sufficient hooks, “looks just the costume I should recommend for the matron of a large establishment. Do you know what it means to housekeep for this family, Polly?”
“Buy the bread and butter, and the meat, and the poultry, and the tea, and the sugar, and the citron, and raisins, and allspice, and nutmegs, and currants, and flour, and brick-bat, and hearthstone, and—and——”
Dr. Maybright put his fingers to his ears. “Spare me any more,” said he, “I never ask for items. There are in this house, Polly, nine children, myself, and four servants. That makes in all fourteen people. These people have to be fed and clothed, and some of them have to be paid wages too; they have to be warmed, they have to be kept clean, in short, all their comforts of body have to be attended to; one of them requires one thing, one quite another. For instance, the dinner which would be admirably suited to you would kill baby, and might not be best for Firefly, who is not strong, and has to be dieted in a particular way. I make it a rule that servants’ wages and all articles consumed in the house are paid for weekly. Whoever housekeeps for me has to undertake all this, and has to make a certain sum of money cover a certain expenditure. Now do you think, Polly—do you honestly think—that you, an ignorant little girl of fourteen, a very untidy and childish little girl, can undertake this onerous post? I ask you to answer me quite honestly—if you undertake it, are you in the least likely to succeed?”
“Oh, father, I know you mean to crush me when you speak like that; but you know you told Helen that you would like her to try to manage the housekeeping.”
“I did—and, as I know you are fond of domestic things, I meant you to help her a little. Helen is two years older than you, and—not the least like you, Polly.”
Polly tossed her head.
“I know that,” she said. “Helen takes twice as long learning her lessons. Try my French beside hers, father; or my German, or my music.”
“Or your forbearance—or your neatness,” added the Doctor.
Here he sighed deeply.
“I miss your mother, Polly,” he said. “And poor, poor child! so do you. There, I can’t waste another minute of my time with you now. Come to my study this evening at nine, and we will discuss the matter further.”
CHAPTER VI.POLLY’S RAID.
Polly spent some hours of that day in a somewhat mysterious occupation. Instead of helping, as she had done lately, in quite an efficient way, with the baby, for she wasa very bright child, and could be most charming and attractive to the smallest living creature when she chose, she left nurse and the little brown-eyed baby to their own devices, and took up a foraging expedition through the house. She called it her raid, and Polly’s raid proved extremely disturbing to the domestic economy of the household. For instance, when Susan, the very neat housemaid, had put all the bedrooms in perfect order, and was going to her own room to change her dress and make herself tidy, it was very annoying to hear Polly, in a peremptory tone, desiring her to give her the keys of the linen-press.
“For,” said that young lady, “I’m going to look through the towels this morning, Susan, to see which of them want darning, and you had better stay with me, to take away those that have thin places in them.”
“Oh, dear me, Miss Polly,” said Susan, rather pertly, “the towels is seen to in the proper rotation. You needn’t be a fretting your head about ’em, miss. This ain’t the morning for the linen-press, miss. It’s done at its proper time and hour.”
“Give me the key at once, Susan, and don’t answer,” said Polly. “There, hold your apron—I’ll throw the towels in. What a lot—I don’t believe we want half as many. When I take the reins of office next week, I’ll put away quite half of these towels. There can’t be waste going on in the house—I won’t have it, not when I housekeep, at any rate. Susan, wasn’t that a little round speck of a hole in that towel? Ah, I thought so. You put it aside, Susan, you’ll have to darn it this afternoon. Now then, let me see, let me see.”
Polly worked vigorously through the towels, holding them up to the light to discover their thin places, pinching them in parts, and feeling their texture between her finger and thumb. In the end she pronounced about a dozen unworthy of domestic service, and Susan was desired to spend her afternoon in repairing them.
“I can’t, then, Miss Polly,” said the much injured housemaid. “It ain’t neither the day nor the hour, and I haven’t got one scrap of proper darning thread left.”
“I’ll go to the village, then, and get some,” said Polly. “It’s only a mile away. Things can’t be neglected—it isn’t right. Take the towels, Susan, and let me find them mended to-morrow morning;” and the young lady tripped off with a very bright color in her cheeks, and the key of the linen-press in her pocket.
Her next visit was to the kitchen regions.
“Oh, Mrs. Power,” she said to the cook, “I’ve come to see the stores. It isn’t right that they shouldn’t be looked into, is it, in case of anything falling short. Fancy if you were run out of pearl barley, Mrs. Power, or allspice, or nutmegs, or mace. Oh, dear, it makes me quite shiver to think of it! What a mess you would be in, if you hadn’t all your ingredients handy, in case you were making a plum-cake, orsome of those dear little tea-cakes, or a custard, or something of that sort. Now, if you’ll just give me the keys, we’ll pay a visit to the store-room, and see what is likely to be required. I have my tablet here, and I can write the order as I look through.”
Mrs. Power was a red-faced and not a very good-humored woman. She was, however, an excellent cook and a careful, prudent servant. Mrs. Maybright had found her, notwithstanding her very irascible temper, a great comfort, for she was thoroughly honest and conscientious, but even from her late mistress Mrs. Power would never brook much interference; it is therefore little to be wondered at that Polly’s voluminous speech was not very well received.
Mrs. Power’s broad back was to the young lady, as she danced gleefully into the kitchen, and it remained toward her, with one ear just slightly turned in her direction, all the time she was speaking.
Mrs. Power was busy at the moment removing the fat from a large vessel full of cold soup. She has some pepper and salt, and nutmegs and other flavoring ingredients on the table beside her, and when Polly’s speech came to a conclusion she took up the pepper canister and certainly flavored the soup with a very severe dose.
“If I was you, I’d get out of the hot kitchen, child—I’m busy, and not attending to a word you’re talking about.”
No answer could have been more exasperating to Polly. She, too, had her temper, and had no idea of being put down by twenty Mrs. Powers.
“Take care, you’re spoiling the soup,” she said. “That’s twice too much pepper—and oh, what a lot of salt! Don’t you know, Mrs. Power, that it’s very wicked to waste good food in that way—it is, really, perhaps you did not think of it in that light, but it is. I’m afraid you can’t ever have attended any cookery classes, Mrs. Power, or you’d know better than to put all that pepper into that much soup. Why it ought to be—it ought to be—let me see, I think it’s the tenth of an ounce to half a gallon of soup. I’m not quite sure, but I’ll look up the cookery lectures and let you know. Now, where’s the key of the store-room—we’d better set to work for the morning is going on, and I have a great deal on my hands. Where’s the key of the store-room, Mrs. Power?”
“There’s only one key that I know much about at the present moment,” replied the exasperated cook, “and that’s the key of the kitchen-door; come, child—I’m going to put you on the other side of it;” and so saying, before Polly was in the least aware of her intention, she was caught up in Mrs. Power’s stalwart arms, and placed on the flags outside the kitchen, while the door was boldly locked in her face.
This was really a check, almost a checkmate, and for a time Polly quite shook with fury, but after a little she sufficiently recovered herself to reflect that the reins of authority had not yet been absolutely placed in her hands, and it might be wisest for her to keep this defeat to herself.
“Poor old Power! you won’t be here long when I’m housekeeper,” reflected Polly. “It would not be right—you’re not at all a good servant. Why, I know twice as much already as you do.”
She went slowly upstairs, and going to the school-room, where the girls were all busying themselves in different fashions, sat down by her own special desk, and made herself very busy dividing a long old-fashioned rosewood box into several compartments by means of stout cardboard divisions. She was really a clever little maid in her own way, and the box when finished looked quite neat. Each division was labeled, and Polly’s cheeks glowed as she surveyed her handiwork.
“What a very queer box,” said Dolly, coming forward. “What are you so long about, Poll Parrot? And, oh, what red cheeks!”
“Never you mind,” said Polly, shutting up her box. “It’s finished now, and quite ready for father to see to-night. I’m going to become a very important personage, Miss Doll—so you’d better begin to treat me with respect. Oh, dear, where’s the cookery book? Helen, do you know where the ”Lectures on Elementary Cookery“ is? Just fancy, Nell, cook doesn’t know how much pepper should go to a gallon of soup! Did you ever hear of such shameful ignorance?”
“Why, you surely have not been speaking to her on the subject?” said Helen, who was busily engaged darning Bunny’s socks; she raised her head and looked at Polly in some surprise as she spoke.
“Oh, have I not, though?” Polly’s charming, merry face twinkled all over.
“I saw Susan crying just now,” interposed Mabel. “She said Polly had been—why, what is the matter, Poll?”
“Nothing,” said Poll, “only if I were you, Mabel, I wouldn’t tell tales out of school. I’m going to be a person of importance, so if you’re wise, all of you, you’ll keep at my blind side. Oh dear! where is that cookery book? Girls, you may each tell me what puddings you like best, and what cake, and what dish for breakfast, and——”
But here the dinner gong put an end to a subject of much interest.
CHAPTER VII.THE GROWN-UPS.
In the evening Polly had her interview with her father. Dr. Maybright had gone through a long and fatiguing day; some anxious cases caused him disquiet, and his recent sorrow lay heavily against his heart. How was the father of seven daughters, and two very scampish little sons, tobring them up alone and unaided? How was a man’s own heart to do without the sympathy to which it had turned, the love which had strengthened, warmed, and sustained it? Dr. Maybright was standing by the window, looking out at the familiar garden, which showed shadowy and indistinct in the growing dusk, when Polly crept softly into the room, and, going up to his side, laid her pretty dimpled hand on his arm.
“Now, father,” she said, eagerly, “about the housekeeping? I’m all prepared—shall we go into the subject now?”
Dr. Maybright sighed, and with an effort roused himself out of a reverie which was becoming very painful.
“My little girl,” he said, pushing back the tumbled hair from Polly’s sunshiny face. Then he added, with a sudden change of manner, “Oh, what a goose you are, Polly—you know as much about housekeeping as I do, and that is nothing at all.”
“I wouldn’t make bold assertions,” replied Polly, saucily—“I wouldn’t really, father dear; I couldn’t cure a sick person, of course not, but I could make a very nice cake for one.”
“Well, let’s go into the matter,” said the Doctor moving to his study table. “I have a quarter of an hour to give you, my dear, then I want to go into the village to see Mrs. Judson before she settles for the night; she has a nasty kind of low fever about her, and her husband is anxious, so I promised to look in. By the way, Polly, don’t any of you go nearer the Judsons’ house until I give you leave; walk at the other side of the village, if you must go there at all. Now, my dear, about this housekeeping. Are you seriously resolved to force your attentions upon us for a week? We shall certainly all be most uncomfortable, and severe attacks of indigestion will probably be the result. Is your heart set on this, Polly, child? For, if so—well, your mother never thwarted you, did she?”
“No, father, never—but don’t talk of mother, for I don’t think I can bear it. When I was with mother somehow or other, I don’t know why, I, never wished for anything she did not like.”
“Just so, my dear child. Turn up the lamp, if you please, Polly—sit there, will you—I want to see your face. Now I will reply to the first part of your last remark. You asked me not to speak of your mother, my dear; I certainly will mention her name to her children. She has gone away, but she is still one with us. Why should our dearest household word be buried? Why should not her influence reach you and Helen and Dolly from where she now is? She is above—she has gone into the higher life, but she can lead you up. You understand me, Polly. Thoughts of your mother must be your best, your noblest thoughts from this out.”
“Yes, father, yes,” said Polly. Her lips were trembling,her eyes were brimful, she clasped and unclasped her hands with painful tension.
Dr. Maybright bent forward and kissed her on her forehead.
“Your mother once said to me,” he continued, in a lighter tone, “Polly is the most peculiar and difficult to manage of all my children. She has a vein of obstinacy in her which no persuasion will overcome. It can only be reached by the lessons which experience teaches. If possible, and where it is not absolutely wrong, I always give Polly her own way. She is a truthful child, and when her eyes are opened she seldom asks to repeat the experiment.”
“Mother was thinking of the hive of honey,” said Polly, gravely. “When I worried her dreadfully she let me go and take some honey away. I thought I could manage the bees just as cleverly as Hungerford does, but I got nervous just at the end, and I was stung in four places. I never told any one about the stings, only mother found out.”
“You did not fetch any more honey from that hive, eh, Polly?” asked the Doctor.
“No, father. And then there was another time—and oh, yes, many other times. But I did not know mother was just trying to teach me, when she seemed so kind and sympathizing, and used to say in that voice of hers—you remember mother’s cheerful voice, father?—‘Well, Polly, it is a difficult thing, but do your best.’”
“All right, child,” said the Doctor, “I perceive that your mother’s plan was a wise one. Tell me quickly what ideas you have with regard to keeping this establishment together, for it is almost time for me to run away to Mrs. Judson. I allow eight pounds a week for all household expenses, servants’ wages, coal, light, food, medicine. I shall not allow you to begin with so much responsibility, but for a week you may provide our table.”
“And see after the servants, please, father?” interrupted Polly, in an eager voice.
“Well, I suppose so, just for one week, that is, after Helen has had her turn. Your mother always managed, with the help of the vegetables and fruit from the garden, to bring the mere table expenses into four pounds a week; butshewas a most excellent manager.”
“Oh, father, I can easily do it too. Why it’s a lot of money! four pounds—eighty shillings! I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if I did it for less.”
“Remember, Polly, I allow no stinting; we must have a plentiful table. No stinting, and no running in debt. Those are the absolute conditions, otherwise I do not trust you with a penny.”
“I’ll keep them, father—never fear! Oh, how delighted I am! I know you’ll be pleased; I know what you’ll say by-and-by. I’m certain I won’t fail, certain. I always loved cooking and housekeeping. Fancy making pie-crust myself,and cakes, and custards! Mrs. Power is rather cross, but she’ll have to let me make what things I choose when I’m housekeeper, won’t she, father?”
“Manage it your own way, dear, I neither interfere nor wish to interfere. Oh, what a mess we shall be in! But thank heaven it is only for a week. My dear child, I allow you to have your way, but I own it is with trepidation. Now I must really go to Mrs. Judson.”
“But one moment, please, father. I have not shown you my plan. You think badly of me now, but you won’t, indeed you won’t presently. I am all system, I assure you. I see my way so clearly. I’ll retrench without being mean, and I’ll economize without being stingy. Don’t I use fine words, father? That’s because I understand the subject so thoroughly.”
“Quite so, Polly. Now I must be going. Good-night, my dear.”
“But my plan—you must stay to hear it. Do you see this box? It has little divisions. I popped them all in before dinner to-day. There is a lock and key to the box, and the lock is a strong one.”
“Well, Polly?”
The Doctor began to get into his overcoat.
“Look, father, dear, please look. Each little division is marked with a name. This one is Groceries, this one is Butcher, this is Milk, butter, and eggs, this is Baker, this is Cheesemonger, and this is Sundries—oh yes, and laundress, I must screw in a division for laundress somehow. Now, father, this is my delightful plan. When you give me my four pounds—my eighty shillings—I’ll get it all changed into silver, and I’ll divide it into equal portions, and drop so much into the grocery department, so much into the butcher’s, so much into the baker’s. Don’t you see how simple it will be?”
“Very, my dear—the game of chess is nothing to it. Goodnight, Polly. I sincerely hope no serious results will accrue from these efforts on my part to teach you experience.”
The Doctor walked quickly down the avenue.
“I’m quite resolved,” he said to himself, “to bring them all up as much as possible on their mother’s plan, but if Polly requires many such lessons as I am forced to give her to-night, there is nothing for it but to send her to school. For really such an experience as we are about to go through at her hands is enough to endanger health, to say nothing of peace and domestic quiet. The fact is, I really am a much worried man. It’s no joke bringing up seven motherless girls, each of them with characters; the boys are a simple matter—they have school before them, and a career of some sort, but the girls—it really is an awful responsibility. Even the baby has a strong individuality of her own—I see it already in her brown eyes—bless her, she has got her mother’s eyes. But my queer, wild, clever Polly—what a week weshall have with you presently! Now, who is that crying and sobbing in the dark?”
The Doctor swooped suddenly down on a shadowy object, which lay prone under an arbutus shrub. “My dear little Firefly, whatisthe matter? You ought to be in bed ages ago—out here in the damp and cold, and such deep-drawn sobs! What has nurse been about? This is really extremely careless.”
“It wasn’t nurse’s fault,” sobbed Firefly, nestling her head into her father’s cheek. “I ran away from her. I hided from her on purpose.”
“Then you were the naughty one. What is the matter, dear? Why do you make things worse for me and for us all just now?”
Firefly’s head sank still lower. Her hot little cheek pressed her father’s with an acute longing for sympathy. Instinct told him of the child’s need. He walked down the avenue, holding her closely.
“Wasn’t you going the other way, father?” asked Firefly, squeezing her arms tight around his neck.
“No matter, I must see you home first. Now what were those sobs about? And why did you hide yourself from nurse?”
“’Cause I wanted to be down-stairs, to listen to the grown-ups.”
“The grown-ups? My dear, who are they?”
“Oh, Nell, and Poll Parrot, and Katie; I don’t mind about Nell and Polly, but it isn’t fair that Katie should be made a grown-up—and she is—she is, really, father. She is down in the school-room so important, and just like a regular grown-up, so I couldn’t stand it.”
“I see. You wanted to be a grown-up too—you are seven years old, are you not?”
“I’m more. I’m seven and a half—Katie is only eleven.”
“Quite so! Katie is young compared to you, isn’t she, Firefly. Still, I don’t see my way. You wished to join the grown-ups, but I found you sobbing on the damp grass under one of the shrubs near the avenue. Is it really under a damp arbutus shrub that the grown-ups intend to take counsel?”
“Oh no, father, no—” here the sobs began again. “They were horrid, oh they were horrid. They locked me out—I banged against the door, but they wouldn’t open. It was then I came up here. I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t been for Katie.”
“I see, my child. Well, run to bed now, and leave the matter in father’s hands. Ask nurse to give you a hot drink, and not to scold, for father knows about it.”
“Darlingfather—oh, how good you are! Don’t I love you! Just another kiss—whata good father you are!”
Firefly hugged the tall doctor ecstatically. He saw her disappear into the house, and once more pursued his way down the avenue.
“Good!” he echoed to himself. “Never did a more harassed man walk. How am I to manage those girls?”
CHAPTER VIII.SHOULD THE STRANGERS COME?
Helen and Polly were seated together in the pleasant morning-room. Helen occupied her mother’s chair, her feet were on a high footstool, and by her side, on a small round table, stood a large basket filled with a heterogeneous collection of odd socks and stockings, odd gloves, pieces of lace and embroidery, some wool, a number of knitting needles, in short, a confused medley of useful but run-to-seed-looking articles which the young housekeeper was endeavoring to reduce out of chaos into order.
“Oh, Polly, how you have tangled up all this wool; and where’s the fellow of this gray glove? And—Polly, Polly—here’s the handkerchief you had such a search for last week. Now, how often do you intend me to put this basket in order for you?”
“Once a week, dear, if not oftener,” answered Polly, in suave tones. “Please don’t speak for a moment or two, Nell. I’m so much interested in this new recipe for pie-crust. You melt equal portions of lard and butter in so much boiling water—that’s according to the size of the pie; then you mix it into the flour, kneading it very well—and—and—and—” Polly’s voice dropped to a kind of buzz, her head sank lower over the large cookery-book which she was studying; her elbows were on the table, her short curling hair fell over her eyes, and a dimpled hand firmly pressed each cheek.
Helen sighed slightly, and returned with a little gesture of resignation to the disentangling of Polly’s work-basket. As she did so she seated herself more firmly in her mother’s arm-chair. Her little figure looked slight in its deep and ample dimensions, and her smooth fair face was slightly puckered with anxiety.
“Polly,” she said, suddenly; “Polly, leave that book alone. There’s more in the world than housekeeping and pie-crust. Do you know that I have discovered something, and I think, I really do think, that we ought to go on with it. It was mother’s plan, and father will always agree to anything she wished.”
Polly shut up Mrs. Beaton’s cookery-book with a bang, rose from her seat at the table, and opening the window sat down where the wind could ruffle her hair and cool her hot cheeks.
“This is Friday,” she said, “and my duties begin on Monday. Helen, pie-crust is not unimportant when success or failure hangs upon it; puddings may become vital, Helen, and, as to cheesecakes, I would stake everything I possessin the world on the manner in which father munches my first cheesecake. Well, dear, never mind; I’ll try and turn my distracted thoughts in your direction for a bit. What’s the discovery?”
“Only,” said Helen, “that I think I know what makes father look so gray, and why he has a stoop, and why his eyes seem so sunken. Of course there is the loss of our mother, but that is not the only trouble. I think he has another, and I think also, Polly, that he had this other trouble before mother died, and that she helped him to bear it, and made plans to lighten it for him. You remember what one of her plans was, and how we weren’t any of us too well pleased. But I have been thinking lately, since I began to guess father’s trouble, that we ought to carry it out just the same as if our mother was with us.”
“Yes,” said Polly. “You have a very exciting way of putting things, Nell, winding one up and up, and not letting in the least little morsel of light. What is father’s trouble, and what was the plan? I can’t remember any plan, and I only know about father that he’s the noblest of all noble men, and that he bears mother’s loss—well, as nobody else would have borne it. What other trouble has our dear father, Nell? God wouldn’t be so cruel as to give him another trouble.”
“God is never cruel,” said Helen, a beautiful, steadfast light shining in her eyes. “I couldn’t let go the faith that God is always good. But father—oh, Polly, Polly, I am dreadfully afraid that father is going to lose his sight.”
“What?” said Polly. “What?father lose his sight? No, I’m not going to listen to you, Nell. You needn’t talk like that. It’s perfectly horrid of you. I’ll go away at once and ask him. Father! Why, his eyes are as bright as possible. I’ll go this minute and ask him.”
“No, don’t do that, Polly. I would never have spoken if I wasn’t really sure, and I don’t think it would be right to ask him, or to speak about it, until he tells us about it himself. But I began to guess it a little bit lately, when I saw how anxious mother seemed. For she was anxious, although she was the brightest of all bright people. And after her death father said I was to look through some of her letters; and I found one or two which told me that what I suspected was the case, and father may—indeed, he probably will—become quite blind, by-and-by. That was—that was—What’s the matter, Polly?”
“Nothing,” said Polly. “You needn’t go on—you needn’t say any more. It’s a horrid world, nothing is worth living for; pie-crust, nor housekeeping, nor nothing. I hate the world, and every one in it, and I hateyoumost of all, Nell, for your horrid news. Father blind! No, I won’t believe it; it’s all a lie.”
“Poor Polly,” said Helen. “Don’t believe it, dear, I wishIdidn’t. I think I know a little bit how you feel. I’m notso hot and hasty and passionate as you, and oh, I’m not half, nor a quarter, so clever, but still, I do know how you feel; I—Polly, you startle me.”
“Only you don’t hate me at this moment,” said Polly. “And I—don’t I hate you, just! There, you can say anything after that. I know I’m a wretch—I know I’m hopeless. Even mother would say I was hopeless if she saw me now, hating you, the kindest and best of sisters. But I do, yes, I do, most heartily. So you see you aren’t like me, Helen.”
“I certainly never hated any one,” said Helen. “But you are excited, Polly, and this news is a shock to you. We won’t talk about it one way or other, now, and we’ll try as far as possible not to think of it, except in so far as it ought to make us anxious to carry out mother’s plan.”
Polly had crouched back away from the window, her little figure all huddled up, her cheeks with carnation spots on them, and her eyes, brimful of the tears which she struggled not to shed, were partly hidden by the folds of the heavy curtain which half-enveloped her.
“You were going to say something else dreadfully unpleasant,” she remarked. “Well, have it out. Nothing can hurt me very much just now.”
“It’s about the strangers,” said Helen. “The strangers who were to come in October. You surely can’t have forgotten them, Polly.”
Like magic the thunder-cloud departed from Polly’s face. The tears dried in her bright eyes, and the curtain no longer enveloped her slight, young figure.
“Why, of course,” she said. “The strangers, how could I have forgotten! How curious we were about them. We didn’t know their names. Nothing, nothing at all—except that there were two, and that they were coming from Australia. I always thought of them as Paul and Virginia. Dear, dear, dear, I shall have more housekeeping than ever on my shoulders with them about the place.”
“They were coming in October,” said Helen, quietly. “Everything was arranged, although so little was known. They were coming in a sailing vessel, and the voyage was to be a long one, and mother, herself, was going to meet them. Mother often said that they would arrive about the second week in October.”
“In three weeks from now?” said Polly, “We are well on in September, now. I can’t imagine how we came to forget Paul and Virginia. Why, of course, poor children, they must be quite anxious to get to us. I wonder if I’d be a good person to go and meet them. You are so shy with strangers, you know, Nell, and I’m not. Mother used to say I didn’t know whatmauvaise hontemeant. I don’t say that Ilikemeeting them, poor things, but I’ll do it, if it’s necessary. Still, Helen, I cannot make out what special plan there is in the strangers coming. Nor what it has to do withfather, with that horrid piece of news you told me a few minutes ago.”
“It has a good deal to say to it, if you will only listen,” said Helen. “I have discovered by mother’s letters that the father of the strangers is to pay to our father £400 a year as long as his children live here. They were to be taught, and everything done for them, and the strangers’ father was to send over a check for £100 for them every quarter. Now, Polly, listen. Our father is not poor, but neither is he rich, and if—if what we fear is going to happen, he won’t earn nearly so much money in his profession. So it seems a great pity he should lose this chance of earning £400 a year.”
“But nobody wants him to lose it,” said Polly. “Paul and Virginia will be here in three weeks, and then the pay will begin. £400 a year—let me see, that’s just about eight pounds a week, that’s what father says he spends on the house, that’s a lot to spend, I could do it for much less. But no matter. What are you puckering your brows for, Helen? Of course the strangers are coming.”
“Father said they were not to come,” replied Helen. “He told me so some weeks ago. When they get to the docks he himself is going to meet them, and he will take them to another home which he has been inquiring about. He says that we can’t have them here now.”
“But we must have them here,” said Polly. “What nonsense! We must both of us speak to our father at once.”
“I have been thinking it over,” said Helen, in her gentle voice, “and I do really feel that it is a pity to lose this chance of helping father and lightening his cares. You see, Polly, it depends on us. Father would do it if he could trust us, you and me, I mean.”
“Well, so he can trust us,” replied Polly, glibly. “Everything will be all right. There’s no occasion to make a fuss, or to be frightened. We have got to be firm, and rather old for our years, and if either of us puts down her foot she has got to keep it down.”
“I don’t know that at all,” said Helen. “Mother sometimes said it was wise to yield. Oh, Polly, I don’t feel at all wise enough for all that is laid on me. We have to be examples in everything. I do want to help father, but it would be worse to promise to help him and then to fail.”
“I’m not the least afraid,” said Polly. “The strangers must come, and father’s purse must be filled in that jolly manner. I don’t believe the story about his eyes, Nell, but it will do him good to feel that he has got a couple of steady girls like us to see to him. Now I’m arranging a list of puddings for next week, so you had better not talk any more. We’ll speak to father about Paul and Virginia after dinner.”
CHAPTER IX.LIMITS.
Even the wisest men know very little of household management, and never did an excellent and well-intentioned individual put, to use a well-known phrase, his foot more completely into it than Dr. Maybright when he allowed Polly to learn experience by taking the reins of household management for a week.
Except in matters that related to his own profession, Dr. Maybright was apt to be slightly absent-minded; here he was always keenly alive. When visiting a patient not a symptom escaped him, not a flicker of timid eyelids passed unnoticed, not a passing shade of color on the invalid’s countenance but called for his acute observation. In household matters, however, he was apt to overlook trifles, and very often completely to forget what seemed to his family important arrangements. He was the kind of man who was sure to be very much beloved at home, for he was neither fretful nor fussy, but took large views of all things. Such people are appreciated, and if his children thought him the best of all men, his servants also spoke of him as the most perfect of masters.
“You might put anything before him,” Mrs. Power would aver. “Bless his ’art,hewouldn’t see, norhewouldn’t scold. Ef it were rinsings of the tea-pot he would drink it instead of soup; and I say, and always will say, that ef a cook don’t jelly the soup for the like of a gentleman like the doctor what have no mean ways and no fusses, she ain’t fit to call herself a cook.”
So just because they loved him, Dr. Maybright’s servants kept his table fairly well, and his house tolerably clean, and the domestic machinery went on wheels, not exactly oiled, but with no serious clog to their progress.
These things of course happened since Mrs. Maybright’s death. In her day this gentlest and firmest of mistresses, this most tactful of women, kept all things in their proper place, and her servants obeyed her with both will and cheerfulness.
On the Saturday before Polly’s novitiate poor Dr. Maybright’s troubles began. He had completely forgotten all about his promise to Polly, and was surprised when the little girl skipped into his study after breakfast, with her black frock put on more neatly than usual, her hair well brushed and pushed off her face, and a wonderful brown holland apron enveloping her from her throat to her ankles. The apron had several pockets, and certainly gave Polly a quaint and original appearance.
“Here I am, father,” she said. “I have come for the money, please.”
“The—the what, my dear?”
Dr. Maybright put up his eye-glass, and surveyed the little figure critically.
“Are these pockets for your school-books?” he said. “It is not a bad idea; only don’t lose them, Polly. I don’t like untidy books scattered here and there.”
Polly took the opportunity to dart a quick, anxious glance into her father’s eyes—they were bright, dark, clear. Of course Helen’s horrid story was untrue. Her spirits rose, she gave a little skip, and clasped her hands on the Doctor’s arm.
“These are housekeeping pockets, father,” she said. “Nothing at all to say to books. I’m domestic, not intellectual; my housekeeping begins on Monday, you know, and I’ve come for the eighty shillings now. Can you give it to me in silver, not in gold, for I want to divide it, and pop it into the little box with divisions at once?”
“Bless me,” said the Doctor, “I’d forgotten—I did not know that indigestion week was so near. Well, here you are, Polly, two pounds in gold and two pounds in silver. I can’t manage more than two sovereigns’ worth of silver, I fear. Now my love, as you are strong, be merciful—give us only small doses of poison at each meal. I beseech of you, Polly, be temperate in your zeal.”
“You laugh at me,” said Polly, “Well, never mind. I’m too happy to care. I don’t expect you’ll talk about poisoning when you have eaten my cheesecakes. And father, dear father, youwilllet Paul and Virginia come? Nell and I meant to speak to you yesterday about them, but you were out all day. With me to housekeep, and Nell to look after everybody, you needn’t have the smallest fear about Paul and Virginia; they can come and they can line your pockets, can’t they?”
“My dear child, I have not an idea what you are talking about. WhoarePaul and Virginia—have I not a large enough family without taking in the inhabitants of a desert island? There, I can’t wait to hear explanations now; that is my patients’ bell—run away, my dear, run away.”
Dr. Maybright always saw his poorer patients gratis on Saturday morning from ten to twelve. This part of his work pleased him, for he was the sort of man who thought that the affectionate and grateful glance in the eye, and the squeeze of the hand, and the “God bless you, doctor,” paid in many cases better than the guinea’s worth. He had an interesting case this morning, and again Polly and her housekeeping slipped from his mind. He was surprised, therefore, in the interim between the departure of one patient and the arrival of another, to hear a somewhat tremulous tap at his study door, and on his saying “Come in,” to see the pretty but decidedly ruffled face of his housemaid Alice presenting herself.
“Ef you please, Doctor, I won’t keep you a minute, but Ithought I’d ask you myself ef it’s your wish as Miss Polly should go and give orders that on Monday morning I’m to turn the linen-press out from top to bottom, and to do it first of all before the rooms is put straight. And if I’m to unpick the blue muslin curtains, and take them down from where they was hung by my late blessed mistress’s orders, in the spare room, and to fit them into the primrose room over the porch—for she says there’s a Miss Virginy and a Master Paul coming, and the primrose room with the blue curtains is for one of them, she says. And I want to know from you, please, Doctor, if Miss Polly is to mistress it over me? And to take away the keys of the linen-press from me, and to follow me round, and to upset all my work, what I never stood, nor would stand. I want to know if it’s your wish, Doctor?”
“The fact is, Alice,” began the Doctor—he put his hand to his brow, and a dim look came over his eyes—“the fact is—ah, that is my patients’ bell, I must ask you to go, Alice, and to—to moderate your feelings. I have been anxious to give Miss Polly a lesson in experience, and it is only for a week. You will oblige me very much, Alice, by helping me in this matter.”
The Doctor walked to the door as he spoke, and opened it courteously.
“Come in, Johnson,” he said, to a ruddy-faced farmer, who was accompanied by a shy boy with a swelled face. “Come in; glad to see you, my friend. Is Tommy’s toothache better?”
Alice said afterwards that she never felt smaller in her life than when Dr. Maybright opened the study door to show her out.
“Ef I’d been a queen he couldn’t have done it more elegant,” she remarked. “Eh, but he’s a blessed man, and one would put up with two Miss Pollys for the sake of serving him.”
The Doctor having conquered Alice, again forgot his second daughter’s vagaries, but a much sterner and more formidable interview was in store for him; it was one thing to conquer Alice, who was impressionable, and had a soft heart, and another to encounter the stony visage and rather awful presence of Mrs. Power.
“It’s to give notice I’ve come, Dr. Maybright,” she said, dropping a curtsey, and twisting a corner of her large white apron round with one formidable red hand. “It’s to give notice. This day month, please, Doctor, and, though I says it as shouldn’t, you won’t get no one else to jelly your soups, nor feather your potatoes, nor puff your pastry, as Jane Power has done. But there’s limits, Dr. Maybright; and I has come to give you notice, though out of no disrespect to you, sir.”
“Then why do you do it, Mrs. Power?” said the Doctor. “You are an honest and conscientious servant, I know that from your late mistress’s testimony. You cook very gooddinners too, and you make suitable puddings for the children, and pastry not too rich. Why do you want to leave? I don’t like change; and, if it is a question of wages, perhaps I may be able to meet you.”
“I’m obligated to you, Doctor; but it ain’t that. I has my twenty-two pounds paid regular, and all found. I ain’t grumbling on that score, and Jane Power was never havaricious nor grasping. I’m obligated too by what you says with respect to the pastry; but, Doctor, it ain’t in mortal woman to stand a chit of a child being put over her. So I’m going this day month; and, with your leave, I’ll turn the key in the kitchen-door next week, or else I’ll forfeit my wage and go at once.”
“Dear, dear,” said the Doctor. “This is really embarrassing. I never thought that Polly’s experience would upset the household economy in so marked a manner. I am really annoyed, for I certainly gave her leave to housekeep for a week.”
“It isn’t as I minds youth, Dr. Maybright,” continued Mrs. Power. “I makes due allowances for the young, for I says to myself, ‘Jane Power, you was once, so to speak, like an unfledged chick yourself;’ but there’s youthandyouth, Dr. Maybright; and Miss Polly’s of the kind as makes your ’air stand on hend.”
“Poor Polly,” said the Doctor.
“No, sir, begging your parding, if you was in the kitchen, it’s ‘poor Mrs. Power’ you’d be a-saying. Now I don’t say nothing agin Miss Nelly—she’s the elder, and she have nice ways with her—she takes a little bit after my poor dear mistress; oh, what a nature was hers, blessed angel!”
Here Mrs. Power rolled her eyes skywards, and the Doctor, turning his back, walked to the window.
“Be brief,” he said, “I am pressed for time.”
“Sir, I was never one for long words; agen’ Miss Helen I haven’t a word to say. She comes down to the kitchen after breakfast as pretty as you please, and she says, ‘Power,’ says she, ‘you’ll advise me about the dinner to-day,’ says she. ‘Shall we have minced collops, or roast beef? And shall we have fruit tart with custard?’ Pretty dear, she don’t know nothink, and she owns it, and I counsel her, as who that wasn’t the most hard-hearted would. But Miss Polly, she’s all on wires like, and she bounds in and she says that I pepper the soup too strong, and that I ought to go to cookery schools, and ef I’ll go with her that blessed minit she’ll tell me what I wants in my own storeroom. There’s limits. Dr. Maybright, and Miss Polly’s my limits; so, ef you’ll have no objection, sir, I’ll go this day month.”
“But I have an objection,” replied Dr. Maybright. “Even Polly’s experiment must not cost me a valuable servant. Mrs. Power, I have promised my little girl, and I feel more than convinced that her week’s trial will ensure to you the freedom you desire and deserve in the future. Listen, I have a plan. Suppose you go for a week’s holiday on Monday?”
“Oh, my word, sir! And are you to be poisoned hout and hout?”
“That is unlikely. Maggie, your kitchen-maid, is fond of cooking, and she won’t quarrel with Miss Polly. Let us consider it arranged, then. A week’s holiday won’t do you any harm, cook, and your expenses I will defray. Now, excuse me, I must go out at once. The carriage has been at the door for some time.”