LITTLE POLLY PRENTISSBYELIZABETH LINCOLN GOULD
LITTLE POLLY PRENTISSBYELIZABETH LINCOLN GOULD
BYELIZABETH LINCOLN GOULD
Polly Prentiss is an orphan who, for the greater part of her life, has lived with a distant relative, Mrs. Manser, the mistress of Manser Farm. Miss Hetty Pomeroy, a maiden lady of middle age, has, ever since the death of her favorite niece, been on the lookout for a little girl whom she might adopt. She is attracted by Polly’s appearance and quaint manners, and finally decides to take her home and keep her for a month’s trial. In the foregoing chapters, Polly has arrived at her new home, and the great difference between the way of living at Pomeroy Oaks and her past life affords her much food for wonderment.
Polly Prentiss is an orphan who, for the greater part of her life, has lived with a distant relative, Mrs. Manser, the mistress of Manser Farm. Miss Hetty Pomeroy, a maiden lady of middle age, has, ever since the death of her favorite niece, been on the lookout for a little girl whom she might adopt. She is attracted by Polly’s appearance and quaint manners, and finally decides to take her home and keep her for a month’s trial. In the foregoing chapters, Polly has arrived at her new home, and the great difference between the way of living at Pomeroy Oaks and her past life affords her much food for wonderment.
“SO you like your new friends, my dear,” said Miss Hetty. “They must be banished to the shed now for their dinner while you and I eat ours. Do you hear Arctura’s signal to us?”
There came a sound unlike anything Polly had ever heard; it was not exactly a bell; she couldn’t imagine what it was. Miss Hetty held out her hand with a smile, and Polly, still with Snip and Snap on her shoulders, was led out of the library, across the porch hall to a big, sunny dining-room. On the table, at Miss Hetty’s place, stood a strange thing with three bronze cups upside down, a little one highest up, one somewhat larger under it, and one still larger at the bottom; at least that was the way it looked to Polly.
Arctura stood close to it with a little stick in her hand; she struck the bronze cups as Polly looked at her, and again the musical sound was heard.
“There, I reckoned you’d never heard anything like that!” said Arctura as she beamed on Polly, and then took the kittens from the little girl’s shoulders. “That’s a heathen invention, called a gong, brought to Miss Pomeroy by her Uncle Pete. I hope you’ll relish your food; I’ve got no time to sit down now,” said Arctura, and bearing Snip and Snap in her arms she marched out of a doorway through which there was a glimpse of the kitchen.
Arctura Green had never sat at the table with Miss Pomeroy in all the years of her faithful service, but it was understood to be purely a matter of choice on her part, and a few words were spoken now and then to make this state of affairs clear to any chance visitor.
Polly ate her steak and potato and fresh bread and butter, sitting opposite Miss Pomeroy, and only speaking in answer to questions. She looked at the spotless white table-cloth with its rose and fern pattern, at the shining glass tumblers, and the big glass water bottle, at the fat silver tea-pot and sugar-bowl, and the slender spoons and forks, at the knives, with mother-of-pearl handles, at the white plates with dull blue figures that matched those on the platter, and at the big bread plate with its gold rim. Then she looked at the buffet on which there were all sorts of shining things.
“It is because everything is so wonderful in the house that they like to stay here better than out-doors,” thought Polly, but in spite of everything her eyes turned wistfully to the window. The sunshine flickered and danced among the branches of the Pomeroy oaks, and Polly gave a half sigh as she looked at it.
“Don’t you like your pudding, my dear?” asked Miss Hetty, and the little girl turned quickly to her dinner again.
After dinner she followed Miss Pomeroy up the broad, shallow front stairs to the pretty room which had been prepared for her. It had a white bed, a white bureau, a white wash-stand, two little straight-backed white chairs, and a white rocking-chair. A pink stripe ran through the white near the edges of all these pieces of furniture, and Polly thought it was the most beautiful bed-room that could possibly be imagined.
“And here is your closet,” said Miss Hetty, as she opened a door, and showed what seemed to Polly like a good-sized room, with shelves and hooks. On the lowest shelf sat the big black enamel cloth bag, looking old and forlorn.
“Now, you’d better take out your things and put them away in the closet and the bureau, Mary,” said Miss Hetty, “and perhaps you’d like to lie down and rest awhile; I am going to take my nap now. When you wish to go downstairs you may, but I wouldn’t run out to-day, for the ground is so damp. I dare say you’ll find plenty to amuse you in the house, and you are free to go anywhere. I’m sure I can trust such a careful, quiet little girl as you are.”
When the door that led into Miss Pomeroy’s room across the hall was fairly shut, Polly executed a silent dance on the soft gray and pink carpet.
“I guess Mrs. Manser’d think I was doing pretty well,” said Polly, thrilling with pride. “I never was called ‘quiet’ or ‘careful’ before. She’d hardly believe it. I must be growing like Eleanor pretty fast. As soon as I’ve put away my things I shall lie right down on that bed. I wonder how long I ought to stay on it. I suppose most probably Eleanor would stay till she heard her aunt getting up; that’s what I’ll do. Mrs. Manser said most likely Miss Pomeroy would give me tests. I shall lie on that bed till I hear Miss Pomeroy if its—two hours,” said Polly, firmly, mentioning the longest space of time which she could conceive might be spent in sleeping by daylight.
Then Polly took the big bag out of the closet and proceeded to unpack it. There was her other new gingham frock on top of everything else; it had blue and white stripes, and was very pretty, Polly thought, as she laid it carefully away in the lowest of the four bureau drawers. Then came her little brown cashmere frock, made over from one which had done service for six years as Mrs. Manser’s Sunday gown; it was Polly’s Sunday best now, very brave with a little red piping around the neck and sleeves, and at the head of the ruffle. This Polly hung in the closet.
In the closet, too, went a very old and much-mended red frock which was always nearly hidden by long-sleeved and high-necked aprons. There were four of these, and two more new ones without sleeves. Polly was so small that there had been plenty of room in the big bag for all these things and for the little store of underclothes which went into the third drawer. The aprons had the second drawer to themselves, and in the top drawer there were Polly’s small handkerchiefs and one pair of little white cotton gloves, freshly washed.
Polly took the bag back to the closet after removing the very last thing, her work basket, which she put on the bureau, beside the fat pincushion. Looking at this cushion reminded her of hidden treasures, and diving into her petticoat pocket she brought forth Aunty Peebles’s gift, and then the knife; these Polly placed on a table, which stood near one of the two windows. Then, after looking about the room for a moment with an air of much satisfaction, Polly slipped off her little shoes, and folding her shawl about her shoulders after the manner of Mrs. Ramsdell when ready for a nap, she turned back the white quilt, and climbing sedately up on the bed, laid her head on the pillow and clasped her little hands.
“I don’t feel sleepy,” said Polly, “but that doesn’t make any difference. I’ve got plenty of things to think of. Perhaps Eleanor didn’t always go to sleep. There are all those leaks in Manser farm—they’ll get mended if I’m adopted. And this is a beautiful place, and I’m not going to be lonesome, a great girl like me, if ’tis pretty still here. I wonder what Miss Arctura Green is doing: and those kitties, I wonder where they are.”
An hour or so later Miss Hetty held a consultation with Arctura in the kitchen.
“I came down the back way so I should not wake that child,” said Miss Pomeroy. “She hasn’t stirred since she lay down, I verily believe. Do you think it’s natural for a little girl of her age to sleep nearly two hours at this time of day?”
“Why, you see we don’t either of us know much about children,” said Arctura, meditatively. “She looks pretty strong, but I notice her appetite’s nothing extra, and probably she’s all excited up and tired out. Seems to me, though, if she don’t stir by the end of another half hour I should kind of make a noise in my room if I was in your place, and wake her up gradual.”
At the end of another half-hour Miss Pomeroy opened and shut a window in her room with vigor, and when she stepped across the hall to Polly’s room, the little girl was putting on her shoes.
“Well, well,” said Miss Pomeroy, “you’ve had a nice, long nap. You shall take one every day, my dear, if you like; I’ve no doubt it will do you good.”
“Yes’m,” said Polly meekly, with a faint little smile.
“I don’t know as I shall let you sleep quite so long, always,” said Miss Hetty, briskly, “for fear you won’t rest so well at night: but we’ll see.”
“Yes’m,” said Polly again; and Miss Pomeroy never suspected that those two hours on the bed had seemed like weeks to her little guest.