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.
POLLY went down the steps and along the driveway to the barn. Hiram was sitting on a long bench just inside the door, rubbing and polishing some silvery bells. He looked at Polly with a broad and hospitable smile.
“It appeared to me ’twas about time we got acquainted,” he remarked, sociably. “I had some expectations you might drop in on me come milking time last night, but I suppose you had other engagements. Can you spare time to sit awhile? Your friends seem to feel to home,” said Hiram, with a wave of his hand toward Snip and Snap, who had followed Polly and were racing up the steep stairs to the hay loft.
“I can stay till Miss Pomeroy wants me,” said Polly, delightedly, as she slid onto the end of the bench. “Is there room for me here, Mr. Hiram?”
IS THERE ANY ROOM FOR ME HERE?
IS THERE ANY ROOM FOR ME HERE?
“Let’s see,” said Hiram, gravely, taking a foot rule from his pocket and measuring the distance between Polly and some bells lying beside him on the bench. “There’s most a yard leeway; if you don’t wriggle more’n twelve inches this way there’ll be no trouble.”
Hiram closed the rule and put it in his pocket. As he did this Polly heard a subdued chuckle. She clasped her arms about her knees and rocked back and forth on the fence, laughing gayly.
“Oh, you’re some like Uncle Sam Blodgett!” she cried, as Hiram looked at her in pretended alarm. “That’s the way he used to talk to me, all solemn, but with the fun inside of him. Oh, I like folks that talk like you and Uncle Blodgett!”
Hiram rose from the bench, and made a low bow to Polly, the bells jingling in his hands.
“That’s the first compliment that’s come my way since I got through my schooling,” he said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “While I was ’tending school the teachers would praise me up because I had a good head for remembering. I could recite pieces. There was a piece beginning ‘On Linden when the sun was low,’ that was in considerable demand. I presume I could recollect it, if given time.”
“Oh, will you please say it to me, some time?” pleaded Polly. “I do love to hear poetry!”
“I’ll teach it to ye, gestures and all,” said Hiram, much gratified. “There’s a good deal depends on the gestures, mind. What’s this now, coming to interrupt?” he added, as Arctura appeared in the doorway.
“Mis’ Deacon Talcott has come to call, and Miss Hetty told me to send Mary in,” said Arctura. “She’s a real pleasant woman, you won’t mind her.” She straightened out Polly’s apron bows, and the little girl walked slowly away, after saying good-by to her host and promising to “call again soon.”
“She’s got a pair of honest eyes in her head as ever I saw, and she’s a real sweet-dispositioned child,” said Arctura, looking after Polly, “but I don’t know as I ever saw one of her age so quiet.”
“She’s been kept with a parcel of old folks, and we aren’t much better,” said Hiram, thoughtfully. “Miss Hetty was telling me she couldn’t seem to find out any kind of play the child cared about, but I said to her, give the little thing time; probably work is what she’s used to, more’n anything else; let her get used to play gradual, I say; don’t try to make her give up her old folks’ ways all at once. She’s ready for fun, soon as she knows it is fun,” said Hiram, “I can see that.”
“Well,” said Arctura, briskly, “I’ll say one thing for her, she don’t tell how hard she’s been worked, or say anything but what’s pleasant about the Manser Farm folks. She seems fond of ’em all, and yet I kind of think she holds back something, for once in a while she’ll start to tell one thing or another, and then stop and bite her lip.”
“I know one thing, sure,” said Hiram, firmly, as his sister stepped out of the barn, “that little thing’s no hypocrite, nor no cheat, or my name’s something beside Green! Let’s see, how did that piece go? ‘On Linden when the sun was low, all bloodless lay the untrodden snow.’ Soon as I get these bells out of my hands,” he muttered, as he turned back to the bench, “I’ll just run through that, with the gestures. I don’t believe there’s a line of it that’s escaped me, if I am going on a hundred!”