Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl, L. T. Meade [unputdownable books txt] 📗
- Author: L. T. Meade
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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, how[Pg 49] romantic, 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.”
“Ef you please, Miss Helen,” said Alice, the neat housemaid, putting in her head at the nursery door, “there’s a lady downstairs, and a heap of luggage, and the nastiest little dog I ever saw. He has almost killed the Persian kitten, Miss, and he is snarling and snapping at every one. See, he took this bit out of my apron, miss. The old lady says as her name is Mrs. Cameron, and she has come to stay; and she’d be glad if you’d go down to her immediately, Miss Helen.”
“Aunt Maria!” said Helen, in an aghast voice. “Aunt Maria absolutely come—and father away! Nursie, I must fly down—you will understand about those flannels. Oh! I am sorry Aunt Maria has come. What will Polly say?”[Pg 51]
Helen felt a curious sinking at her heart as she descended the stairs; but she was a very polite and well-mannered girl, and when she went up to Mrs. Cameron she said some pretty words of welcome, which were really not overdone. Mrs. Cameron was a short, stout person; she always wore black, and her black was always rusty. She stood now in the middle of the drawing-room, holding Scorpion in her arms, with her bonnet-strings untied, and her full, round face somewhat flushed.
“No, my dear, you are not particularly glad to see me,” she said, in answer to Helen’s gentle dignified greeting. “I don’t expect it, child, nor look for it; and you need not waste untruths upon me, for I always see through them. You are not glad to see me, and I am not surprised, for I assure you I intend to make myself disagreeable. Helen, your father is a perfect fool. Now, my dear, you need not fire up; you would say so if you were as old as me, and had received as idiotic an epistle from him.”
“But I am not as old as you, and he is my father,” said Helen, steadily. “I don’t tell untruths, Aunt Maria, and I am glad to see you because—because you were fond of mother. Will you come into the dining-room now, and let me get you some tea?”
Helen’s lips were quivering, and her dark blue eyes were slightly lowered, so that Aunt Maria should not notice the tears that filled them. The old lady, however, had noticed these signs of emotion, and brave words always pleased her.
“You aren’t a patch on your mother, child,” she said. “But you remind me of her. Yes, take me to my room first, and then get me a good substantial meal, for I can tell you I am starving.”
Helen rang the bell.
“Alice,” she said to the parlor maid, who speedily answered the summons, “will you get the rose room ready as quickly as possible? My aunt, Mrs. Cameron, will stay here for the night. And please lay supper in the dining-room. Tell Mrs. Power—oh, I forgot—see and get as nice a supper as you can, Alice. You had better speak to Miss Polly.”
“Yes, Miss,” said Alice. Then she paused, hesitated, colored slightly, and said, in a dubious manner, “Is it the rose room you mean, Miss Helen? That’s the room Miss Polly is getting ready for Miss Virginy, and there ain’t no curtains to the window nor to the bed at present.”
“Then I won’t sleep in that bed,” said Mrs. Cameron. “I must have a four-poster with curtains all round, and plenty of dark drapery to the windows. My eyes are weak, and I don’t intend to have them injured with the cold morning light off the moor.”
“Oh, Aunt Maria, the mornings aren’t very light now,” answered Helen. “They are——”
But Mrs. Cameron interrupted her.[Pg 52]
“Don’t talk nonsense, child. In a decent place like Bath I own the day may break gradually, but I expect everything contrary to civilized existence here. The very thought of those awful commons makes me shiver. Now, have you, or have you not, a four-poster, in which I can sleep?”
Helen smothered a slight sigh. She turned once again to Alice.
“Will you get my father’s room ready for Mrs. Cameron,” she said, “and then see about supper as quickly as possible? Father is away for a few days,” she added, turning to the good lady. “Please will you come up to Polly’s and my room now to take off your things?”
“And where is Polly?” said Mrs. Cameron. “And why doesn’t she come to speak to her aunt? There’s Kate, too, she must be a well-grown girl by now, and scarcely gone to bed yet. The rest of the family are, I presume, asleep; that is, if there’s a grain of sense left in the household.”
“Yes, most of the children are in bed,” replied Helen. “You will see Polly and Katie, and perhaps the twins, later on, but first of all I want to make you comfortable. You must be very tired; you have had a long journey.”
“I’m beat out, child, and that’s the truth. Here, I’ll lay Scorpion down in the middle of your bed; he has been a great worry to me all day, and he wants his sleep. He likes to get between the sheets, so if you don’t mind I’ll open the bed and let him slip down.”
“If you want me to be truthful, I do mind very much,” said Helen. “Oh, you are putting him into Polly’s bed. Well, I suppose he must stay there for the present.”
Mrs. Cameron was never considered an unamiable person; she was well spoken of by her friends and relations, for she was rich, and gave away a great deal of money to various charities and benevolent institutions. But if ever any one expected her to depart in the smallest particular from her own way they were vastly mistaken. Whatever her goal, whatever her faintest desire, she rode roughshod over all prejudices until she obtained it. Therefore it was that, notwithstanding poor Helen’s protest, Scorpion curled down comfortably between Polly’s sheets, and Mrs. Cameron, well pleased at having won her point, went down to supper.
Alas, and alas! the supper provided for the good lady was severe in its simplicity. Alice, blushing and uncomfortable, called Helen out of the room, and then informed her that neither Polly nor Maggie could be found, and that there was literally nothing, or next to nothing, in the larder.
“But that can’t be the case,” said Helen, “for there was a large piece of cold roast beef brought up for my tea, and a great plate of hot cakes, and an uncut plum cake. Surely, Alice, you must be mistaken.”
“No, Miss, there’s nothing downstairs. Not a joint, nor a cake, nor nothing. If it wasn’t that I found some new-laid eggs in the hen-house, and cut some slices from the uncooked[Pg 53] ham, I couldn’t have had nothing at all for supper—and—and——”
“Tut, tut!” suddenly exclaimed a voice
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