CHAPTER XA DELIGHTFUL CALLER
POLLY had no trouble on her mind when Mrs. Talcott left the house after an hour’s call. She knew from the visitor’s gentle, sweet face and manner, as well as from her beautiful black silk gown that she was another grand person like Miss Hetty. Polly had often seen Mrs. Talcott at church in the distance, and had admired her from the Manser pew, which was in the gallery back where the shadows gathered. Polly had once watched a sunbeam dance on a violet bow in Mrs. Talcott’s bonnet.
“How do you do, my dear?” the visitor had asked, when Miss Pomeroy presented “little Mary Prentiss” to her. “I’m sure I have caught a glimpse of you now and then at church. I believe you don’t go to the Number Three school with my children, do you?”
“I am very well, thank you, ma’am,” said Polly, sedately, though her dimples showed. “Yes’m, I have seen you in church; the sun comes in the gallery window and dances on your bonnet sometimes, just as pretty. No, ma’am, I go to Number Four, where there are just five boys and nobody else but me. The teacher says it’s hardly worth while to keep a school for five sprawling boys that will be farmers when all’s said and done, and one little girl that’s nobody,” said Polly, quoting Mrs. Manser without a touch of injured feeling, “but we’re out of the other districts, the Higgins boys and I are, ma’am.”
Mrs. Talcott flushed, and drew the little girl to her side.
“I’ve brought you a present, Mary,” she said, putting a box into Polly’s hands. “My children always like a surprise, and I knew you wouldn’t be expecting this; it’s very pure candy,” said Mrs. Talcott, looking over Polly’s head to Miss Pomeroy for approval, “it cannot possibly hurt her.”
It seemed too good to be true, but there were dozens of the delicious chocolate drops in the box. Polly’s cheeks grew crimson as she saw them.
“Mrs. Deacon Talcott,” she said, lifting her shining eyes to this wonderful visitor. “I expect I don’t know how to thank you right, but I do wish I did! I’ve had so many presents now, you could hardly believe. It began before I left Manser Farm. I had new clothes, bought right out of the store, the gingham was, and nobody had ever worn it before. I wish I had one of those dresses on, to show you,” said Polly, who had been advised by Miss Pomeroy to keep on her red frock under a white apron for the afternoon.
“Never mind, my dear,” said Miss Pomeroy, exchanging a quick glance with her caller. “Mrs. Talcott may see it some other day.”
“Yes’m,” said Polly, “and then Uncle Sam Blodgett gave me a knife that will be an extra fine article if I should get the broken blade fixed, and some slippery elm, and Aunty Peebles gave me a dear little pincushion, and Miss Pomeroy bought me a bag of gum-drops and chocolates—but those are gone all but one, for Miss Arctura likes them; she has a sweet tooth, though she doesn’t often indulge it, she says—and then Miss Pomeroy bought me these beautiful shoes that I have on,” she finished, breathlessly, sticking out one small foot for inspection. “You see it’s been presents and presents,” said Polly, beaming upon Mrs. Talcott and then turning to Miss Hetty with a face aglow with gratitude.
“So it seems, my dear,” said the visitor, and when Polly mentioned her plan in regard to Aunty Peebles, Mrs. Talcott said cordially, “Why not send her part of these chocolates, Mary?”
“I hoped and hoped you’d say for me to do that,” said Polly, earnestly. “If you please, Miss Pomeroy, I would like to send them the middle of next week, for it always seems long then to Aunty Peebles from Sunday to Sunday. She values her privileges very much,” said Polly.
“You shall send them next Wednesday if all goes well,” said Miss Pomeroy, “and perhaps you’d like to write a letter to go with them. We’ll see about it. And now you may run off, Mary, and read or do anything you like.”
Polly said good-by, and then as she reached the doorway she turned and made a courtesy to the guest.
“Will you please pay my respects to your family,” said Polly, and then she departed, hugging her precious box.
“I believe I was just about like Eleanor that time,” she said, as she put her new treasure away in the top bureau drawer, “for they both looked as pleased as could be. Now I’m going to the library to pick out a book, and take it out on the south porch. Seems as if probably I could read better out-doors.”
Miss Pomeroy and her visitor were in the parlor and the door was closed, so Polly had no fear of disturbing them. She had never owned any books except the Bible and her school reader, but she had heard a great deal about stories from her friends at Manser Farm. Uncle Sam Blodgett had a battered Shakespeare, from which he had recited extracts, and Polly had looked upon the book with awe.
“I guess I’d better begin with a small book,” she said, as she stood for a moment undecided in the centre of the library, looking about at the bewildering display of literature. “Of course, small books are meant for boys and girls, and I’ll take one from that shelf under the window; probably those are the ones Eddy reads. Miss Pomeroy said yesterday I could choose anything I liked. Here’s one that won’t take very long,” said Polly, kneeling to slip a small, leather-covered volume from its place.
“‘S-e-s-a-m-e and Lilies;’ that’s a pretty name,” she said, approvingly. “I don’t know what sesame means, but probably I shall when I’ve read far enough. There aren’t any pictures, but Uncle Sam Blodgett’s book didn’t have any pictures, either, except one in the front, of the gentleman that wrote it. I’ll go out on the porch and begin right off.”
On the south porch there were two low wooden chairs, and Polly seated herself in one of these, resolutely facing away from the big oaks which waved their branches so alluringly, and appeared to be inviting her to play with them and follow their beckoning down the road.
The book seemed very strange and hard to understand, but Polly read on bravely page after page, stopping now and then to spell a word softly, and shake her curly head over it. When she had read ten pages she closed the book with a little sigh of relief.
“If I read it by tens I can remember the place better,” said Polly, to the oaks, “and I don’t believe it makes much difference where I stop, because it goes right on and on, and there doesn’t seem to be any story to it. I didn’t suppose there were so many long words in the world, but Uncle Sam Blodgett always says ‘understanding comes with experience,’ and I guess I shall have a good deal of experience before I finish this book,” said Polly, soberly.
She felt a little bit lonely in spite of all the good things that had been showered upon her.
“I wish I could paddle in that brook down in the meadow, and I wish I could see what’s growing in the woods,” said Polly, wistfully. “I guess I’m not very much like Eleanor yet. I don’t suppose she ever wanted to go barefoot.”
This was rather sorrowful, but after Mrs. Talcott had gone Miss Pomeroy and Polly took a pleasant walk under the big oaks, and Miss Pomeroy smiled, with pleasure, Polly thought, when she saw the book the little girl had chosen. And after supper there was a delightful time in the barn while Hiram milked. Altogether Polly felt modestly contented when she got into bed that night. She had composed a short prayer, which she added to her usual petitions:
“Dear Father in heaven,” prayed little Polly, “please make me just as much like Eleanor as You think it’s best for me to be, for You know all about her. Amen.”