CHAPTER X.INDIGESTION WEEK.
It was quite early on the following Monday morning when a light tap was heard outside the door of the room where Helen and Polly slept. It was a very light, modest, and uncertain tap, and it has not the smallest effect upon Helen, who lay in soft slumber, her pretty eyes closed, her gentle face calm and rounded and child-like, and the softest breathing coming from her rosy, parted lips.
Another little girl, however, was not asleep. At that modest tap up sprang a curly head, two dark, bright eyes opened wide, two white feet sprang quickly but noiselessly on to the floor, and Polly had opened the bed-room door wide to admit the short, dumpy, but excited little person of Maggie, the kitchen-maid.
“She’s a-going, Miss Polly—she’s a-packing her bandbox now, and putting the strap on. She’s in a hawful temper, but she’ll be out of the house in less than half an hour. There’s a beautiful fire in the kitchen, Miss, and the pan for frying bacon is polished up so as you could ’most see yourself in it. And the egg-saucepan is there all ’andy, and the kettle fizzing and sputtering. I took cook up her breakfast, but she said she didn’t want none of our poisonous messes, and she’d breakfast with her cousin in the village if we’d no objection. She’ll be gone in no time now, Miss Polly, and I’m a-wanting to know when you’ll be a-coming down stairs.”
“I’m going to dress immediately, Maggie,” said Polly. “I’ve scarcely slept all night, for this is an anxious moment for me. I’ll join you in half an hour at the latest, Maggie, and have lots of saucepans and frying-pans and gridirons ready. Keep the fire well up too, and see that the oven is hot. There, fly away, I’ll join you soon.”
Maggie, who was only sixteen herself, almost skipped down the passage. After the iron reign of Mrs. Power, to work for Polly seemed like play to her.
“She’s a duck,” she said to herself, “a real cozy duck of a young lady. Oh, my word, won’t we spin through the stores this week! Won’t we just!”
Meanwhile Polly was hastily getting into her clothes. Shedid not wish to wake Helen, for she was most anxious that no one should know that on the first morning of her housekeeping she had arisen soon after six o’clock. Her plans were all laid beforehand, and a wonderfully methodical and well arranged programme, considering her fourteen years, was hers; she was all agog with eagerness to carry it out.
“Oh, won’t they have a breakfast this morning,” she said to herself. “Won’t they open their eyes, and won’t Bob and Bunny look greedy. And Firefly—I must watch Firefly over those hot cakes, or she may make herself sick. Poor father and Nell—they’ll both be afraid at first that I’m a little too lavish and inclined to be extravagant, but they’ll see by-and-by, and they’ll acknowledge deep down in their hearts that there never was such a housekeeper as Polly.”
As the little maid dreamed these pleasant thoughts she scrambled somewhat untidily into her clothes, gave her hair a somewhat less careful brush than usual, and finally knelt down to say her morning prayer. Helen still slept, and Polly by a sudden impulse chose to kneel by Helen’s bed and not her own. She pressed her curly head against the mattress, and eagerly whispered her petitions. She was excited and sanguine, for this was to her a moment of triumph; but as she prayed a feeling of rest and yet of longing overpowered her.
“Oh, I am happy to-day,” she murmured—“but oh, mother, oh, mother, I’d give everything in all the wide world to have you back again! I’d live on bread and water—I’d spend years in a garret just for you to kiss me once again, mother, mother!”
Helen stirred in her sleep, for Polly’s last impulsive words were spoken aloud.
“Has mother come back?” she asked.
Her eyes were closed, she was dreaming. Polly bent down and answered her.
“No,” she said. “It is only me—the most foolish of all her children, who wants her so dreadfully.”
Helen sighed, and turned her head uneasily, and Polly, wiping away some moisture from her eyes, ran out of the room.
Her housekeeping apron was on, her precious money box was under her arm, the keys of the linen-press jingled against a thimble and a couple of pencils in the front pocket of the apron. Polly was going down stairs to fulfill her great mission; it was impossible for her spirits long to be downcast. The house was deliciously still, for only the servants were up at present, but the sun sent in some rays of brightness at the large lobby windows, and the little girl laughed aloud in her glee.
“Good morning, sun! it is nice of you to smile at me the first morning of my great work. It is very good-natured of you to come instead of sending that disagreeable friend of yours, Mr. Rain. Oh, how delicious it is to be up early.Why, it is not half-past six yet—oh, what a breakfast I shall prepare for father!”
In the kitchen, which was a large, cheerful apartment looking out on the vegetable garden, Polly found her satellite, Maggie, on the very tiptoe of expectation.
“I has laid the servants’ breakfast in the ’all, Miss Polly; I thought as you shouldn’t be bothered with them, with so to speak such a lot on your hands this morning. So I has laid it there, and lit a fire for them, and all Jane has to do when she’s ready is to put the kettle on, for the tea’s on the table in the small black caddy, so there’ll be no worriting over them. And ef you please, Miss Polly, I made bold to have a cup of tea made and ready for you, Miss—here it is, if you please, Miss, and a cut off the brown home-made loaf.”
“Delicious,” said Polly; “I really am as hungry as possible, although I did not know it until I saw this nice brown bread-and-butter. Why, you have splendid ideas in you, Maggie; you’ll make a first-rate cook yet. But now”—here the young housekeeper thought it well to put on a severe manner—“I must know what breakfast you have arranged for the servants’ hall. It was good-natured of you to think of saving me trouble, Maggie, but please understand that during this week you do nothing on your own responsibility.Iam the housekeeper, and although I don’t say I am old, I am quite old enough to be obeyed.”
“Very well, Miss,” said Maggie, who had gone to open her oven, and poke up the fire while Polly was speaking; “it’s a weight off my shoulders, Miss, for I wasn’t never one to be bothered with thinking. Mother says as I haven’t brains as would go on the top of a sixpenny-bit, so what’s to be expected of me, Miss. There, the oven’s all of a beautiful glow, and ’ull bake lovely. You was asking what breakfast I has put in the servants’ ’all—well, cold bacon and plenty of bread, and a good pat of the cooking butter. Why, Miss Polly, oh, lor, what is the matter, Miss?”
“Only that you have done very wrong, Maggie,” said Polly. “You would not like to have lots of good things going up to the dining-room, and have no share yourself. I call it selfish of you, Maggie, for of course you knew you would be in the kitchen with me, and would be sure to come in for bits. Cold bacon, indeed! Poor servants, they’re not likely to care for my housekeeping if that is all I provide for them! No, Maggie, when I made out my programme, I thought of the servants as well as the family. I will just refer to my tablets, Maggie, and see what breakfast I arranged for the hall for Monday morning.”
While Polly was speaking Maggie opened her eyes and mouth wider and wider and when the young lady read aloud from her tablets she could not suppress an expostulatory “oh!”
“Monday—kitchen breakfast,” read Polly—“Bacon, eggs, marmalade, sardines. Hot coffee, fresh rolls, if possible.”
“My word, but that is wasteful,” said Maggie.
Polly’s cheeks flushed. She glanced at her small handmaid, raised her hand in a reproving manner, and continued to read—
“Dining-room breakfast: Hot scones, baked muffins, eggs and bacon, deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, a dish of kippered herrings, marmalade, honey, jam, tea and coffee. Oh, and chocolate for Firefly.”
“My word, Miss,” again exclaimed Maggie. “It’s seven o’clock now, and the Doctor likes his breakfast sharp on the table at eight. If we has to get all this ready in an hour we had better fly round and lose no more time. I’ll see to the ’all, bless your kind ’eart, Miss Polly, but we’d better get on with the dining-room breakfast, or there’ll be nothing ready in anything like time. Will you mix up the cakes, Miss Polly, while I sees to the kidneys, and to the bacon and eggs, and the scrambled eggs, and the kippers. My word, but there’ll be a power more sent up than can be eaten. But whatever goes wrong we should have the cakes in the oven, Miss Polly.”
Polly did not altogether approve of Maggie’s tone, but time did press; the kitchen clock already pointed to five minutes past seven; it was much easier to write out a programme upstairs at one’s leisure in the pleasant morning-room than to carry it out in a hurry, in the hot kitchen, particularly when one’s own knowledge was entirely theoretical, not practical. Yes, the kitchen was very hot, and time never seemed to fly so fast.
“First of all, open the window, Maggie; it is wrong to have rooms so hot as this,” said the young housekeeper, putting on her most authoritative air.
“No, Miss, that I mustn’t,” said Maggie, firmly. “You’d cool down the oven in less than five minutes. Now, shall I fetch you the flour and things from the store-room, Miss? Why, dear me, your cheeks has peonyed up wonderful. You’re new to it yet, Miss, but you’ll soon take it quiet-like. Cold bacon is a very nice breakfast for the ’all, Miss, and cooking butter’s all that servants is expected to eat of. Now shall I fetch you the flour and the roller, and the milk, Miss Polly?”
“Yes, get them,” said Polly. She felt decidedly annoyed and cross. “I wish you would not talk so much, Maggie,” she said, “go and fetch the materials for the hot cakes.”
“But I don’t know yet what I’m to get, Miss. Is it a dripping cake, or is it a cream cake, or is it a butter-and-egg cake? I’ll bring you things according, Miss Polly, if you’ll be so good as to instruct me.”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Polly, “you make my head go round, when you mention so many kinds of cake, Maggie. I really thought you knew something of cooking. I just wanthot cakes. I don’t care what kind they are; oh, I suppose we had better have the richest to-day. Get the material for the butter-and-egg cake, Maggie, and do be quick.”
Thus admonished, Maggie did move off with a dubious look on her face in the direction of the store-room.
“She don’t know nothing, poor dear,” she said to herself; “she aims high—she’s eat up with ambition, but she don’t know nothing. It’s lucky we in the ’all is to have the cold bacon.Idon’t know how to make a butter-and-egg hot cake—oh, my word, a fine scolding Mrs. Power will give us when she comes back.”
Here Maggie approached the store-room door. Then she uttered a loud and piercing exclamation and flew back to Polly.
“She’s gone and done us, Miss Polly,” she exclaimed. “She’s gone and done us! Cook’s off, and the key of the store-room in her pocket. There’s nothing for breakfast, Miss Polly—no eggs, no butter, no marmalade, no sugar, no nothing.”
Poor Polly’s rosy, little face turned white.
“It can’t be true,” she said. And she flew down the passage to the store-room herself. Alas! only to peep through the key-hole, for the inhospitable door was firmly locked, and nowhere could the key be discovered.
CHAPTER XI.A—WAS AN APPLE PIE.
The first day of Polly’s housekeeping was long remembered in the household. In the first place, the breakfast, though fairly abundant, was plain. A large piece of cold bacon graced one end of the board, a brown loaf stood on a trencher in the center, and when Helen took her place opposite the tea-tray she found herself provided with plenty of milk and sugar, certainly, and a large tea-pot of strong tea, but the sugar was brown. No butter, no marmalade, no jams, no hot cakes, graced the board. The children spoke of the fare as severe, and the Doctor’s dark brown eyes twinkled as he helped his family to abundant slices of cold bacon.
“Not a word,” he said, in a loud aside to his boys and girls. “I did not think it was in Polly to be so sensible. Why, we shall get through indigestion week quite comfortably, if she provides us with plain, wholesome fare like this.”
Polly took her own place at the table rather late. Her cheeks were still peonyed, as Maggie expressed it, her eyes were downcast, her spirits were decidedly low, and she had a very small appetite.
After breakfast she beat a hasty retreat, and presently the boys rushed in in great excitement, to announce to Helen and Katie the interesting fact that Polly was walking across the fields accompanied by Maggie, each of them laden with a large market-basket.
“They are almost running, both of them,” exclaimed Bunny, “and pretty Poll is awful cross, for when we wanted togo with her she just turned round and said we’d have a worse dinner than breakfast if we didn’t leave her alone.”
“We ran away quickly enough after that,” continued Bob, “for we didn’t want no more cold-bacon and no-butter meals. We had a nasty breakfast to-day, hadn’t we, Nell? And Poll is a bad housekeeper, isn’t she?”
“Oh, leave her alone, do,” said Helen. “She is trying her very best. Run out and play, boys, and don’t worry about the meals.”
The two boys, known in the family as “the scamps,” quickly took their departure, and Katie began to talk in her most grown-up manner to Helen. Katie was a demure little damsel, she was fond of using long words, and thought no one in the world like Helen, whom she copied in all particulars.
“Poll is too ambitious, and she’s sure to fail,” she began. But Helen shut her up.
“If Polly does fail, you’ll be dreadfully sorry, I’m sure, Katie,” she said. “I know I shall be sorry. It will make me quite unhappy, for I never saw any one take more pains about a thing than Polly has taken over her housekeeping. Yes, it will be very sad if Polly fails; but I don’t think she will, for she is really a most clever girl. Now, Katie, will you read your English History lesson aloud?”
Katie felt crushed. In her heart of hearts she thought even her beloved Helen a little too lenient.
“Never mind,” she said to herself, “won’t Dolly and Mabel have a fine gossip with me presently over the breakfast Polly gave us this morning.”
Meanwhile the anxious, small housekeeper was making her way as rapidly as possible in the direction of the village.
“We haven’t a minute to lose, Maggie,” she said, as they trudged along. “Can you remember the list of things I gave you to buy at the grocery shop? It is such a pity you can’t read, Maggie, for if you could I’d have written them down for you.”
“It wasn’t the Board’s fault, nor my mother’s,” answered Maggie, glibly. “It was all on account of my brain being made to fit on the top of a sixpence. Yes, Miss, I remembers the list, and I’ll go to Watson’s and the butcher’s while you runs on to the farm for the butter and eggs.”
“You have got to get ten things,” proceeded Polly; “don’t forget, ten things at the grocer’s. You had better say the list over to me.”
“All right, Miss Polly, ten; I can tick one off on each finger: white sugar, coffee, rice, marmalade, strawberry jam, apricot jam, mustard, pickles—is they mixed or plain, Miss Polly?—raisins, currants. There, Miss, I has them all as pat as possible.”
“Well, stop a minute,” said Polly. “I’m going to unlock my box now. Hold it for me, Maggie, while I open it. Here, I’m going to take half-a-sovereign out of the grocery division.You must take this half-sovereign to Watson’s, and pay for the things. I have not an idea how much they cost, but I expect you’ll have a good lot of change to give me. After that, you are to go on to the butcher’s, and buy four pounds of beef-steak. Here is another half-sovereign that you will have to pay the butcher out of. Be sure you don’t mix the change, Maggie. Pop the butcher’s change into one pocket, and the grocer’s change into another. Now, do you know what we are going to have for dinner?”
“No, Miss, I’m sure I don’t. I expect it’ll sound big to begin with, and end small, same as the breakfast did. Why, Miss Polly, you didn’t think cold bacon good enough for the servants, and yet you set it down in the end afore your pa.”
Polly looked hard at Maggie. She suddenly began to think her not at all a nice girl.
“I was met by adversity,” she said. “It is wrong of you to speak to me in that tone, Maggie; Mrs. Power behaved very badly, and I could not help myself; but she need not think she is going to beat me, and whatever I suffer, I scorn to complain. To-night, after every one is in bed, I am going to make lots of pies and tarts, and cakes, and cheesecakes. You will have to help me; but we will talk of that by-and-by. Now, I want to speak about the dinner. It must be simple to-day. We will have a beef-steak pudding and pancakes. Do you know how to toss pancakes, Maggie?”
“Oh, lor’, Miss,” said Maggie, “I did always love to see mother at it. She used to toss ’em real beautiful, and I’m sure I could too. That’s a very nice dinner, Miss, ’olesome and good, and you’ll let me toss the pancakes, won’t you, Miss Polly?”
“Well, you may try, Maggie. But here we are at the village. Now, please, go as quickly as possible to Watson’s, and the butcher’s, and meet me at this stile in a quarter of an hour. Be very careful of the change, Maggie, and be sure you put the butcher’s in one pocket and the grocer’s in another. Don’t mix them—everything depends on your not mixing them, Maggie.”
The two girls parted, each going quickly in opposite directions. Polly had a successful time at the farm, and when she once again reached the turnstile her basket contained two dozen new-laid eggs, two or three pounds of delicious fresh butter, and a small jug of cream. The farmer’s wife, Mrs. White, had been very pleased to see her, and had complimented her on her discernment in choosing the butter and eggs. Her spirits were now once again excellent, and she began to forget the sore injury Mrs. Power had done her by locking the store-room door.
“It’s all lovely,” she said to herself; “it’s all turning out as pleasant as possible. The breakfast was nothing, they’d have forgotten the best breakfast by now, and they’ll have such a nice dinner. I can easily make a fruit tart for father, as well as the pancakes, and won’t he enjoy Mrs. White’s nicecream? It was very good of her to give it to me; and it was very cheap, too—only eighteenpence. But, dear me, dear me, how I wish Maggie would come!”
There was no sign, however, of any stout, unwieldy young person walking down the narrow path which led to the stile. Strain her eyes as she would, Polly could not see any sign of Maggie approaching. She waited for another five minutes, and then decided to go home without her.
“For she may have gone round by the road,” she said to herself, “although it was very naughty of her if she did so, for I told her to be sure to meet me at the turnstile. Still I can’t wait for her any longer, for I must pick the fruit for my tart, and I ought to see that Alice is doing what I told her about the new curtains.”
Off trotted Polly with her heavy basket once again across the fields. It was a glorious September day, and the soft air fanned her cheeks and raised her already excited spirits. She felt more cheerful than she had done since her mother died, and many brilliant visions of hope filled her ambitious little head. Yes, father would see that he was right in trusting her; Nell would discover that there was no one so clever as Polly; Mrs. Power would cease to defy her; Alice would obey her cheerfully; in short, she would be the mainstay and prop of her family.
On her way through the kitchen-garden Polly picked up a number of fallen apples, and then she went quickly into the house, to be met on the threshold by Firefly.
“Oh, Poll Parrot, may I come down with you to the kitchen? I’d love to see you getting the dinner ready, and I could help, indeed I could. The others are all so cross; that is, all except Nell. Katieisin a temper, and so are Dolly and Mabel; but I stood up for you, Poll Parrot, for I said you didn’t mean to give us the very nastiest breakfast in the world. I said it was just because you weren’t experienced enough to know any better—that’s what I said, Poll.”
“Well, you made a great mistake then,” said Polly. “Not experienced, indeed! as if I didn’t know what a good breakfast was like. I had a misfortune; a dark deed was done, and I was the victim, but I scorn to complain, I let you all think as you like. No, you can’t come to the kitchen with me, Firefly; it isn’t a fit place for children. Run away now,do.”
Poor Fly’s small face grew longing and pathetic, but Polly was obdurate.
“I can’t have children about,” she said to herself, and soon she was busy peeling her apples and preparing her crust for the pie. She succeeded fairly well, although the water with which she mixed her dough would run all over the board, and her nice fresh butter stuck in the most provoking way to the rolling-pin. Still, the pie was made, after a fashion, and Polly felt very happy, as she amused herself cutting out little ornamental leaves from what remained ofher pastry to decorate it. It was a good-sized tart, and when she had crowned it with a wreath of laurel leaves she thought she had never seen anything so handsome and appetizing. Alas, however, for poor Polly, the making of this pie was her one and only triumph.
The morning had gone very fast, while she was walking to the village securing her purchases, and coming home again. She was startled when she looked at the kitchen clock to find that it pointed to a quarter past twelve. At the same time she discovered that the kitchen fire was nearly out, and that the oven was cold. Father always liked the early dinner to be on the table sharp at one o’clock; it would never, never do for Polly’s first dinner to be late. She must not wait any longer for that naughty Maggie; she must put coals on the fire herself, and wash the potatoes, and set them on to boil.
This was scarcely the work of an ordinary lady-like housekeeper; but Polly tried to fancy she was in Canada, or in even one of the less civilized settlements, where ladies put their hands to anything, and were all the better for it.
She had a great hunt to find the potatoes, and when she had washed them—which it must be owned she did not do at all well—she had still greater difficulty in selecting a pot which would hold them. She found one at last, and with some difficulty placed it on the kitchen-range. She had built up her fire with some skill, but was dismayed to find that, try as she would, she could get no heat into the oven. The fact was, she had not the least idea how to direct the draught in the right direction; and although the fire burned fiercely, and the potatoes soon began to bubble and smoke, the oven, which was to cook poor Polly’s tart, remained cold and irresponsive.
Well, cold as it was, she would put her pie in, for time was flying as surely it had never flown before and it was dreadful to think that there would be nothing at all for dinner but potatoes.
Oh, why did not that wicked Maggie come! Really Polly did not know that any one could be quite so depraved and heartless as Maggie was turning out. She danced about the kitchen in her impatience, and began to think she understood something of the wickedness of those cities described in the Bible, which were destroyed by fire on account of their sins, and also of the state of the world before the Flood came.
“They were all like Maggie,” she said to herself. “I really never heard of any one before who was quite so hopelessly bad as Maggie.”
The kitchen clock pointed to the half hour, and even to twenty minutes to one. It was hopeless to think of pancakes now—equally hopeless to consider the possibilities of a beefsteak pudding. They would be very lucky if they had steak in any form. Still, if Maggie came at once that might bemanaged, and nice potatoes, beef-steak, apple-tart and cream would be better than no dinner at all.
Just at this moment, when Polly’s feelings were almost reduced to despair, she was startled by a queer sound, which gradually came nearer and nearer. It was the sound of some one sobbing, and not only sobbing, but crying aloud with great violence. The kitchen door was suddenly burst open, and dishevelled, tear-stained, red-faced Maggie rushed in, and threw herself on her knees at Polly’s feet.
“I has gone and done it, Miss Polly,” she exclaimed. “I was distraught-like, and my poor little bit of a brain seemed to give way all of a sudden. Mother’s in a heap of trouble, Miss Polly. I went round to see her, for it was quite a short cut to Watson’s, round by mother’s, and mother she were in an awful fixing. She hadn’t nothing for the rent, Miss Polly, ’cause the fruit was blighted this year; and the landlord wouldn’t give her no more grace, ’cause his head is big and his heart is small, same as ’tis other way with me, Miss Polly, and the bailiffs was going to seize mother’s little bits of furniture, and mother she was most wild. So my head it seemed to go, Miss Polly, and I clutched hold of the half-sovereign in the butcher’s pocket, and the half-sovereign in the grocer’s pocket, and I said to mother, ‘Miss Polly’ll give ’em to you, ’cause it’s a big heart as Miss Polly has got. They was meant for the family dinner, but what’s dinner compared to your feelings.’ So mother she borrowed of the money, Miss Polly, and I hasn’t brought home nothink; I hasn’t, truly, miss.”
Maggie’s narrative was interspersed with very loud sobs, and fierce catches of her breath, and her small eyes were almost sunken out of sight.
“Oh, I know you’re mad with me,” she said, in conclusion. “But what’s dinner compared with mother’s feelings. Oh, Miss Polly, don’t look at me like that!”
“Get up,” said Polly, severely. “You are just like the people before the Flood; I understand about them at last. I cannot speak to you now, for we have not a moment to lose. Can you make the oven hot? There are only potatoes for dinner, unless the apple tart can be got ready in time.”
“Oh, lor’! Miss Polly, I’ll soon set that going—why, you has the wrong flue out, Miss. See now, the heat’s going round it lovely. Oh, what an elegant pie you has turned out, Miss Polly! Why, it’s quite wonderful! You has a gift in the cookery line, Miss. Oh, darling Miss Polly, don’t you be a-naming of me after them Flooders; it’s awful to think I’m like one of they. It’s all on account of mother, Miss Polly. It would have gone to your heart, Miss Polly, if you seen mother a-looking at the eight-day clock and thinking of parting from it. Her tears made channels on her cheeks, Miss Polly, and it was ’eart-piercing to view her. Oh, do take back them words, Miss Polly. Don’t say as I’m a Flooder.”
Polly certainly had a soft heart, and although nothing could have mortified her more than the present state of affairs, she made up her mind to screen Maggie, and to be as little severe to her as she could.
CHAPTER XII.POTATOES—MINUS POINT.
Dr. Maybright had reason again to congratulate himself when he sat down to a humble dinner of boiled potatoes.
“If this regimen continues for a week,” he said, under his breath, “we must really resort to tonics. I perceive I did Polly a gross injustice. She does not mean to make us ill with rich living.”
The doctor ate his potatoes with extreme cheerfulness, remarking as he did so on their nutritive qualities, and explaining to his discontented family how many people lived on these excellent roots. “The only thing we want,” he said, “is a red herring; we might then have that most celebrated of all Irish dishes—‘potatoes and point.’”
“Do tell us what that is, father,” said Helen, who was anxious to draw the direful glances of the rest of the family from poor Polly.
“‘Potatoes and point,’” said Dr. Maybright, raising his head for a moment, while a droll glance filled his eye, “is a simple but economical form of diet. The herring is hung by a string over the center of the board, and each person before he eats his potato points it at the herring; by so doing a subtle flavor of herring is supposed to be imparted to the potato. The herring lasts for some time, so the diet is really a cheap one. Poll, dear, what is the matter? I never saw these excellent apples of the earth better cooked.”
Polly was silent; her blushing cheeks alone betrayed her. She was determined to make a good meal, and was sustained by the consciousness that she had not betrayed Maggie, and the hope that the apple-tart would prove excellent.
It certainly was a noble apple-pie, and the faces of the children quite cheered up at the sight of it. They were very hungry, and were not particular as to the quality of the crust. Mrs. White’s cream, too, was delicious, so the second part of Polly’s first dinner quite turned out a success.
After the meal had come to an end, Helen called her second sister aside.
“Polly,” she said, “I think we ought to speak to father now about the strangers’ coming. Time is going on, and if they come we ought to begin to prepare for them, and the more I think of it the more sure I am that they ought to come.”
“All right,” said Polly. “Only, is this a good time to speak to father? For I am quite sure he must be vexed with me.”
“You must not think so, Polly,” said Helen, kissing her. “Father has given you a week to try to do your best in, and he won’t say anything one way or another until the time is up. Come into his study now, for I know he is there, and we really ought to speak to him.”
Polly’s face was still flushed, but the Doctor, who had absolutely forgotten the simplicity of his late meal, received both the girls with equal affection.
“Well, my loves,” he said, “can I do anything for you? I am going for a pleasant drive into the country this afternoon. Would you both like to come?”
“I should very much,” said Helen; but Polly, with a somewhat important little sigh, remarked that household matters would keep her at home.
“Well, my dear, you must please yourself. But can I do anything for either of you now? You both look full of business.”
“We are, father,” said Polly, who was always the impetuous one. “We want to know if Paul and Virginia may come.”
“My dear, this is the second time you have spoken to me of those deserted orphans. I don’t understand you.”
“It is this, father,” explained Helen. “We think the children from Australia—the children mother was arranging about—might come here still. We mean that Polly and I would like them to come, and that we would do our best for them. We think, Polly and I do, that mother, even though she is not here, would still like the strangers to come.”
“Sit down, Helen,” said the Doctor; the harassed look had once again come across his face, and even Polly noticed the dimness in his eyes.
“You must not undertake too much, you two,” he said. “You are only children. You are at an age to miss your mother at every turn. We had arranged to have a boy and girl from Australia to live here, but when your mother—your mother was taken—I gave up the idea. It was too late to stop their coming to England, but I think I can provide a temporary home for them when they get to London. You need not trouble your head about the strange children, Nell.”
“It is not that,” said Polly. “We don’t know them yet, so of course we don’t love them, but we wish them to come here, because we wish for their money. It will be eight pounds a week; just what you spend on the house, you know, father.”
“What a little economist!” said Dr. Maybright, stretching out his hand and drawing Polly to him. “Yes, I was to receive £400 a year for the children, and it would have been a help, certainly it would have been a help by and by. Still, my dear girls, I don’t see how it is to be managed.”
“But really, father, we are so many that two more make very little difference,” explained Helen. “Polly and I are going to try hard to be steady and good, and we think itwould certainly please mother if you let the strangers come here, and we tried to make them happy. If you would meet them, father, and bring them here just at first, we might see how we got on.”
“I might,” said the Doctor in a meditative voice, “and £400 is a good deal of money. It is not easily earned, and with a large family it is always wanted. That’s what your mother said, and she was very wise. Still, still, children, I keep forgetting how old you are. In reality you are, neither of you, grown up; in reality Polly is quite a child, and you, my wise little Nell, are very little more. I have offended your aunt, Mrs. Cameron, as it is, and what will she say if I yield to you on this point? Still, still——”
“Oh, father, don’t mind what that tiresome Aunt Maria says or thinks on any subject,” said Polly. “Why should we mind her, she wasn’t mother’s real sister. We scarcely know her at all, and she scarcely knows us. We don’t like her, and we are sure she doesn’t like us. Why should she spoil our lives, and prevent our helping you? For it would help you to have the strangers here, wouldn’t it, father?”
“By and by it would,” answered the Doctor. “By and by it would help me much.”
Again the troubled expression came to his face and the dimness was perceptible in his eyes.
“You will let us try it, father,” said Helen. “We can but fail; girls as young as us have done as much before. I am sure girls as young as we are have done harder things before, so why should not we try?”
“I am a foolish old man,” said the Doctor. “I suppose I shall be blamed for this, not that it greatly matters. Well, children, let it be as you wish. I will go and meet the boy and girl in London, and bring them to the Hollow. We can have them for a month, and if we fail, children,” added the Doctor, a twinkle of amusement overspreading his face, “we won’t tell any one but ourselves. It is quite possible that in the future we shall be comparatively poor if we cannot manage to make that boy and girl from Australia comfortable and happy; but Polly there has taught us how to economize, for we can always fall back on potatoes and point.”
“Oh—oh—oh, father,” came from Polly’s lips.
“That is unkind, dear father,” said Helen.
But they both hung about his neck and kissed him, and when Dr. Maybright drove away that afternoon on his usual round of visits, his heart felt comparatively light, and he owned to himself that those girls of his, with all their eccentricities, were a great comfort to him.
CHAPTER XIII.IN THE ATTIC.
There is no saying how Polly’s week of housekeeping might have ended, nor how substantial her castle in the air might have grown, had not a catastrophe occurred to her of a double and complex nature.
The first day during which Polly and Maggie, between them, catered for and cooked the family meals, produced a plain diet in the shape of cold bacon for breakfast, and a dinner of potatoes, minus “point.” But on the Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of that week Maggie quite redeemed her character of being a Flooder, and worked under Polly with such goodwill that, as she herself expressed it, her small brains began to grow. Fortunately, Mrs. Ricketts, Maggie’s mother, was not obliged to meet her rent every day of the week, therefore no more of Polly’s four pounds went in that direction. And Polly read Mrs. Beaton’s Cookery-book with such assiduity, and Maggie carried out her directions with such implicit zeal and good faith, that really most remarkable meals began to grace the Doctor’s board. Pastry in every imaginable form and guise, cakes of all descriptions; vegetables, so cooked and so flavored, that their original taste was completely obliterated; meats cooked in German, Italian, and American styles; all these things, and many more, graced the board and speedily vanished. The children became decidedly excited about the meals, and Polly was cheered and regarded as a sort of queen. The Doctor sighed, however, and counted the days when Nell and Mrs. Power should once more peacefully reign in Polly’s stead. Nurse asked severely to have all the nursery medicine bottles replenished. Firefly looked decidedly pasty, and, after one of Polly’s richest plum-cakes, with three tiers of different colored icings, Bunny was heard crying the greater part of one night. Still the little cook and housekeeper bravely pursued her career of glory, and all might have gone well, and Polly might have worn a chastened halo of well-earned success round her brow for the remainder of her natural life, but for the catastrophe of which I am about to speak.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday the family fared richly, and the household jogged along somehow, but on Friday morning Dr. Maybright suddenly surprised his girls by telling them that unexpected business would call him to London immediately. He could not possibly return before Monday, but he would get a certain Dr. Strong to see after his patients, and would start for town by the mid-day train.
The Doctor’s portmanteau was quickly packed, and in what seemed a moment of time after the receipt of the letter he had kissed his family and bidden them good-by. Then her four younger sisters and the boys came round Polly with a daring suggestion.
“Let’s sit up late, to-night, and have a real, jolly supper,” they begged. “Let’s have it at nine o’clock, up in the large garret over the front of the house; let it be a big supper, all kinds of good things; ginger-beer and the rest, and let’s invite some people to come and eat it with us. Do Poll—do Poll, darling.”
“But,” said Polly—she was dazzled by this glorious prospect—“I haven’t got a great deal of money,” she said, “and Nurse will be very angry, and Helen won’t like it. For you know, children, you two boys and Firefly, you are never allowed to sit up as late as nine o’clock.”
“But for once, Poll Parrot,” exclaimed the three victims; “just for once. We are sure father would not care, and we can coax Nell to consent; and Nurse, as to Nurse, she thinks of no one but baby; we won’t choose the garret over baby. Do, do, do say ‘yes,’ darling Poll.”
“The dearest cook in all the world!” exclaimed Bunny, tossing his cap in the air.
“The queen of cake-makers,” said Bob, turning head over heels.
“The darlingest princess of all housekeepers,” echoed Firefly, leaping on her sister, and half-strangling her with a fierce embrace.
“And we’ll all subscribe,” said the twins.
“And it will really be delightfully romantic; something to remember when you aren’t housekeeper,” concluded Katie.
“I’d like it awfully,” said Polly, “I don’t pretend that I wouldn’t, and I’ve just found such a recipe for whipped cream. Do you know, girls, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised—I really shouldn’t—if I turned out some meringues made all by myself for supper. The only drawback is the money, for Mrs. White does charge a lot for cream, and I don’t mind owning to you all, now that you are nice and sympathetic, that the reason you had only potatoes for dinner on Monday was because Maggie and I met with a misfortune; it was a money trouble,” continued Polly, with an important air, “and of course children like you cannot understand what money troubles mean. They are wearing, very, and Maggie says she thinks I’m beginning to show some crow’s feet around my eyes on account of them. But never mind, I’m not going to cast the shadows of money troubles on you all, and this thing is not to be spoken of, only it makes me very short now.”
“But we’ll help you, Poll,” said all the eager voices. “Let’s fetch our purses and see what we can spare.”
In a twinkling many odd receptacles for holding money made an appearance, and the children between them found they could muster the noble sum of six shillings. All this was handed to Polly, who said, after profound deliberation, that she thought she could make it go furthest and make most show in the purchase of cream and ginger-beer.
“I’ll scrape the rest together, somehow,” she said, in conclusion,“and Maggie will help me fine. Maggie’s a real brick now, and her brains are growing beautifully.”
But there was another point to be decided—Who were to be invited to partake of the supper, and was Nurse to be told, and was Helen to be consulted?
Certainly Polly would not have ventured to carry out so daring a scheme without Helen’s consent and cooperation, if it had not happened that she was away for the day. She had taken the opportunity to drive into the nearest town five miles away with her father, and had arranged to spend the day there, purchasing several necessary things, and calling on one or two friends.
“And it will be much too late to tell Nell when she comes back,” voted all the children. “If she makes a fuss then, and refuses to join, she will spoil everything. We are bound too, to obey Helen, so we had much better not give her the chance of saying ‘no.’ Let us pretend to go to bed at our usual hour, and say nothing to either Nurse or Helen. We can tell them to-morrow if we like, and they can only scold us. Yes, that is the only thing to do, for it would never, never do to have such a jolly plan spoilt.”
A unanimous vote was therefore carried that the supper in the garret was to be absolutely secret and confidential, and, naughty as this plan of carrying out their pleasure was, it must be owned that it largely enhanced the fun. The next point to consider was, who were to be the invited guests? There were no boys and girls of the children’s own class in life within an easy distance.
“Therefore there is no one to ask,” exclaimed Katie, in her shortest and most objectionable manner.
But here Firefly electrified her family by quoting Scripture.
“When thou makest a supper,” she began.
All the others rose in a body and fell upon her. But she had started a happy idea, and in consequence, Mrs. Ricketts’ youngest son and daughter, and the three very naughty and disreputable sons of Mrs. Jones, the laundress, were invited to partake of the coming feast.
The rest of the day passed to all appearance very soberly. Helen was away. The Doctor’s carriage neither came nor went; the Doctor himself, with his kindly voice, and his somewhat brusque, determined manner, awoke no echoes in the old house. Nurse was far away in the nursery wing, with the pretty, brown-eyed baby and the children; all the girls and the little boys were remarkably good.
To those who are well acquainted with the habits and ways of young folks, too much goodness is generally a suspicious circumstance. There is a demure look, there is an instant obedience, there is an absence of fretfulness, and an abnormal, although subdued, cheerfulness, which arouses the watchful gaze of the knowing among mothers, governesses, and nurses.
Had Nurse been at dinner that day she might have been warned of coming events by Bunny’s excellent behavior; by Bob’s rigid refusal to partake twice of an unwholesome compound, which went by the name of iced pudding; by Firefly’s anxiety to be all that a good and proper little girl should be. But Nurse, of course, had nothing to say to the family dinner. Helen was away, the Doctor was nearing the metropolis, and the little boys’ daily governess was not dining with the family.
These good children had no one to suspect them, and all went smoothly; in short, the wheels of the house machinery never seemed more admirably oiled.
True, had any one listened very closely there might have been heard the stealthy sound of shoeless feet ascending the rickety step-ladder which led to the large front garret. Shoeless feet going up and down many, many times. Trays, too, of precious crockery were carried up, baskets piled with evergreens and flowers were conveyed thither, the linen cupboard was ruthlessly rifled for snowy tablecloths and table napkins of all descriptions. Then later in the day a certain savory smell might have been perceived by any very suspicious person just along this special passage and up that dusty old ladder. For hot bread and hot pastry and hot cakes were being conveyed to the attic, and the sober twins themselves fetched the cream from the farm, and the ginger beer from the grocer’s.
No one was about, however, to suspect, or to tell tales if they did suspect.
Helen came home about seven o’clock, rather tired, and very much interested in her purchases, to find a cozy tea awaiting her, and Polly anxious to serve her. The twin girls were supposed to be learning their lessons in the schoolroom, Katie was nowhere to be seen, and Helen remarked casually that she supposed the young ones had gone to bed.
“Oh, yes,” said Polly, in her quickest manner.
She turned her back as she spoke, and the blush which mantled her brown face was partly hidden by her curly dark hair.
“I am very hungry,” said Helen. “Really, Polly, you are turning out an excellent housekeeper—what a nice tea you have prepared for me. How delicious these hot cakes are! I never thought, Poll, you would make such a good cook and manager, and to think of your giving us such delicious meals on so little money. But you are eating nothing yourself, love, and how hot your cheeks are!”
“Cooking is hot work, and takes away the appetite,” said Polly.
She was listening in agony that moment, for over Helen’s head certain stealthy steps were creeping; they were the steps of children, leaving their snug beds, and gliding as quietly as possible in the direction of the savory smells and the dusty ladder and the large dirty, spidery—but oh, howromantic, how fascinating—front attic. Never before did Polly realize how many creaky boards there were in the house; oh, surely Helen would observe those steps; but, no, she cracked her egg tranquilly, and sipped her tea, and talked in her pleasantest way of Polly’s excellent cooking, and of her day’s adventures.
Time was going on; it would soon be eight o’clock. Oh, horrors, why would the Rickettses and Mrs. Jones’s three boys choose the path through the shrubbery to approach the house! The morning room, where Helen was taking her tea, looked out on the shrubbery, and although it was now quite dark in the world of nature, those dreadful rough boys would crack boughs, and stumble and titter as they walked. Polly’s face grew hotter and her hands colder; never did she bless her sister’s rather slow and unsuspicious nature more than at this moment, for Helen heard no boughs crack, nor did the stealthy, smothered laughter, so distinctly audible to poor Polly, reach her ears.
At ten minutes to eight Helen rose from the table.
“I’m going up to Nurse to show her what things I have bought for baby,” she said. “We are going to short-coat baby next week, so I have a good deal to show her, and I won’t be down again for a little bit.”
“All right,” said Polly, “I have plenty to do; don’t worry about me till you see me, Nell.”
She danced out of the room, and in excellent spirits joined a large and boisterous party in the front attic. Now, she assured her family and her guests, all would go well; they were safely housed in a distant and unused part of the establishment, and might be as merry and as noisy as they pleased; no one would hear them, no one would miss them, no one would suspect them.
And all might have gone according to Polly’s programme, and to this day that glorious feast in the attic might have remained a secret in the private annals of the house of Maybright, but for that untoward thing which I am about to tell.
At that very moment while the Maybrights, the Rickettses, and the Joneses were having delightful and perfectly untrammeled intercourse with each other, a very fidgety old lady was approaching the Hollow, being carefully conducted thither in a rickety fly. A large traveling trunk was on the box seat of the fly, and inside were two or three bandboxes, a couple of baskets, a strap bursting with railway rugs, cloaks, and umbrellas, and last, but not least, a snarling little toy terrier, who barked and whined, and jumped about, and licked his mistress’s hand.
“Down, Scorpion,” exclaimed Mrs. Cameron; “behave yourself, sir. You really become more vicious every day. Get in that corner, and don’t stir till I give you leave. Now, then, driver,” opening the window and poking her head out, “when are we getting to Sleepy Hollow? Oh! never, never have I found myself in a more outlandish place.”
“We be a matter of two miles from there, ma‘am,” said the man. “You set easy, and keep yourself quiet, for the beast won’t go no faster.”
Mrs. Cameron subsided again into the depths of the musty old fly with a groan.
“Outlandish—most outlandish!” she remarked again. “Scorpion, you may sit in my lap if you like to behave yourself, sir. Well, well, duty calls me into many queer quarters. Scorpion, if you go on snarling and growling I shall slap you smartly. Yes, poor Helen; I never showed my love for her more than when I undertook this journey: never, never. Oh! how desolate that great moor does look; I trust there are no robbers about. It’s perfectly awful to be in a solitary cab, with anything but a civil driver, alone on these great moors. Well, well, how could Helen marry a man like Dr. Maybright, and come to live here? He must be the oddest person, to judge from the letter he wrote me. I saw at once there was nothing for me but to make the stupendous effort of coming to see after things myself. Poor dear Helen! she was a good creature, very handsome, quite thrown away upon that doctor. I was fond of her; she was like a child to me long ago. It is my duty to do what I can for her orphans. Now, Scorpion, what is the matter? You are quite one of the most vicious little dogs I have ever met. Oh, do be quiet, sir.”
But at that moment the fly drew up with a jolt. The driver deliberately descended from his seat, and opened the door, whereupon Scorpion, with a snarl and bound, disappeared into the darkness.
“He’s after a cat,” remarked the man, laconically. “This be the Hollow, ma‘am, if you’ll have the goodness to get out.”
“Sleepy Hollow,” remarked Mrs. Cameron to herself, as she steadily descended. “Truly I should think so; but I am much mistaken if I don’t wake it up.”