Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl, L. T. Meade [unputdownable books txt] 📗
- Author: L. T. Meade
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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 be[Pg 41] managed, 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.
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.”[Pg 43]
“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 it[Pg 44] would 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
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