Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl, L. T. Meade [unputdownable books txt] 📗
- Author: L. T. Meade
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Mrs. Power was a red-faced and not a very good-humored woman. She was, however, an excellent cook and a careful, prudent servant. Mrs. Maybright had found her, notwithstanding her very irascible temper, a great comfort, for she was thoroughly honest and conscientious, but even from her late mistress Mrs. Power would never brook much interference; it is therefore little to be wondered at that Polly’s voluminous speech was not very well received.
Mrs. Power’s broad back was to the young lady, as she danced gleefully into the kitchen, and it remained toward her, with one ear just slightly turned in her direction, all the time she was speaking.
Mrs. Power was busy at the moment removing the fat from a large vessel full of cold soup. She has some pepper and salt, and nutmegs and other flavoring ingredients on the table beside her, and when Polly’s speech came to a conclusion she took up the pepper canister and certainly flavored the soup with a very severe dose.
“If I was you, I’d get out of the hot kitchen, child—I’m busy, and not attending to a word you’re talking about.”
No answer could have been more exasperating to Polly. She, too, had her temper, and had no idea of being put down by twenty Mrs. Powers.
“Take care, you’re spoiling the soup,” she said. “That’s twice too much pepper—and oh, what a lot of salt! Don’t you know, Mrs. Power, that it’s very wicked to waste good food in that way—it is, really, perhaps you did not think of it in that light, but it is. I’m afraid you can’t ever have attended any cookery classes, Mrs. Power, or you’d know better than to put all that pepper into that much soup. Why it ought to be—it ought to be—let me see, I think it’s the tenth of an ounce to half a gallon of soup. I’m not quite sure, but I’ll look up the cookery lectures and let you know. Now, where’s the key of the store-room—we’d better set to work for the morning is going on, and I have a great deal on my hands. Where’s the key of the store-room, Mrs. Power?”
“There’s only one key that I know much about at the present moment,” replied the exasperated cook, “and that’s the key of the kitchen-door; come, child—I’m going to put you on the other side of it;” and so saying, before Polly was in the least aware of her intention, she was caught up in Mrs. Power’s stalwart arms, and placed on the flags outside the kitchen, while the door was boldly locked in her face.
This was really a check, almost a checkmate, and for a time Polly quite shook with fury, but after a little she sufficiently recovered herself to reflect that the reins of authority had not yet been absolutely placed in her hands, and it might be wisest for her to keep this defeat to herself.
“Poor old Power! you won’t be here long when I’m housekeeper,” reflected Polly. “It would not be right—you’re not at all a good servant. Why, I know twice as much already as you do.”
She went slowly upstairs, and going to the school-room, where the girls were all busying themselves in different fashions, sat down by her own special desk, and made herself very busy dividing a long old-fashioned rosewood box into several compartments by means of stout cardboard divisions. She was really a clever little maid in her own way, and the box when finished looked quite neat. Each division was labeled, and Polly’s cheeks glowed as she surveyed her handiwork.
“What a very queer box,” said Dolly, coming forward. “What are you so long about, Poll Parrot? And, oh, what red cheeks!”
“Never you mind,” said Polly, shutting up her box. “It’s finished now, and quite ready for father to see to-night. I’m going to become a very important personage, Miss Doll—so you’d better begin to treat me with respect. Oh, dear, where’s the cookery book? Helen, do you know where the ”Lectures on Elementary Cookery“ is? Just fancy, Nell, cook doesn’t know how much pepper should go to a gallon of soup! Did you ever hear of such shameful ignorance?”
“Why, you surely have not been speaking to her on the subject?” said Helen, who was busily engaged darning Bunny’s socks; she raised her head and looked at Polly in some surprise as she spoke.
“Oh, have I not, though?” Polly’s charming, merry face twinkled all over.
“I saw Susan crying just now,” interposed Mabel. “She said Polly had been—why, what is the matter, Poll?”
“Nothing,” said Poll, “only if I were you, Mabel, I wouldn’t tell tales out of school. I’m going to be a person of importance, so if you’re wise, all of you, you’ll keep at my blind side. Oh dear! where is that cookery book? Girls, you may each tell me what puddings you like best, and what cake, and what dish for breakfast, and——”
But here the dinner gong put an end to a subject of much interest.
In the evening Polly had her interview with her father. Dr. Maybright had gone through a long and fatiguing day; some anxious cases caused him disquiet, and his recent sorrow lay heavily against his heart. How was the father of seven daughters, and two very scampish little sons, to[Pg 20] bring them up alone and unaided? How was a man’s own heart to do without the sympathy to which it had turned, the love which had strengthened, warmed, and sustained it? Dr. Maybright was standing by the window, looking out at the familiar garden, which showed shadowy and indistinct in the growing dusk, when Polly crept softly into the room, and, going up to his side, laid her pretty dimpled hand on his arm.
“Now, father,” she said, eagerly, “about the housekeeping? I’m all prepared—shall we go into the subject now?”
Dr. Maybright sighed, and with an effort roused himself out of a reverie which was becoming very painful.
“My little girl,” he said, pushing back the tumbled hair from Polly’s sunshiny face. Then he added, with a sudden change of manner, “Oh, what a goose you are, Polly—you know as much about housekeeping as I do, and that is nothing at all.”
“I wouldn’t make bold assertions,” replied Polly, saucily—“I wouldn’t really, father dear; I couldn’t cure a sick person, of course not, but I could make a very nice cake for one.”
“Well, let’s go into the matter,” said the Doctor moving to his study table. “I have a quarter of an hour to give you, my dear, then I want to go into the village to see Mrs. Judson before she settles for the night; she has a nasty kind of low fever about her, and her husband is anxious, so I promised to look in. By the way, Polly, don’t any of you go nearer the Judsons’ house until I give you leave; walk at the other side of the village, if you must go there at all. Now, my dear, about this housekeeping. Are you seriously resolved to force your attentions upon us for a week? We shall certainly all be most uncomfortable, and severe attacks of indigestion will probably be the result. Is your heart set on this, Polly, child? For, if so—well, your mother never thwarted you, did she?”
“No, father, never—but don’t talk of mother, for I don’t think I can bear it. When I was with mother somehow or other, I don’t know why, I, never wished for anything she did not like.”
“Just so, my dear child. Turn up the lamp, if you please, Polly—sit there, will you—I want to see your face. Now I will reply to the first part of your last remark. You asked me not to speak of your mother, my dear; I certainly will mention her name to her children. She has gone away, but she is still one with us. Why should our dearest household word be buried? Why should not her influence reach you and Helen and Dolly from where she now is? She is above—she has gone into the higher life, but she can lead you up. You understand me, Polly. Thoughts of your mother must be your best, your noblest thoughts from this out.”
“Yes, father, yes,” said Polly. Her lips were trembling,[Pg 21] her eyes were brimful, she clasped and unclasped her hands with painful tension.
Dr. Maybright bent forward and kissed her on her forehead.
“Your mother once said to me,” he continued, in a lighter tone, “Polly is the most peculiar and difficult to manage of all my children. She has a vein of obstinacy in her which no persuasion will overcome. It can only be reached by the lessons which experience teaches. If possible, and where it is not absolutely wrong, I always give Polly her own way. She is a truthful child, and when her eyes are opened she seldom asks to repeat the experiment.”
“Mother was thinking of the hive of honey,” said Polly, gravely. “When I worried her dreadfully she let me go and take some honey away. I thought I could manage the bees just as cleverly as Hungerford does, but I got nervous just at the end, and I was stung in four places. I never told any one about the stings, only mother found out.”
“You did not fetch any more honey from that hive, eh, Polly?” asked the Doctor.
“No, father. And then there was another time—and oh, yes, many other times. But I did not know mother was just trying to teach me, when she seemed so kind and sympathizing, and used to say in that voice of hers—you remember mother’s cheerful voice, father?—‘Well, Polly, it is a difficult thing, but do your best.’”
“All right, child,” said the Doctor, “I perceive that your mother’s plan was a wise one. Tell me quickly what ideas you have with regard to keeping this establishment together, for it is almost time for me to run away to Mrs. Judson. I allow eight pounds a week for all household expenses, servants’ wages, coal, light, food, medicine. I shall not allow you to begin with so much responsibility, but for a week you may provide our table.”
“And see after the servants, please, father?” interrupted Polly, in an eager voice.
“Well, I suppose so, just for one week, that is, after Helen has had her turn. Your mother always managed, with the help of the vegetables and fruit from the garden, to bring the mere table expenses into four pounds a week; but she was a most excellent manager.”
“Oh, father, I can easily do it too. Why it’s a lot of money! four pounds—eighty shillings! I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if I did it for less.”
“Remember, Polly, I allow no stinting; we must have a plentiful table. No stinting, and no running in debt. Those are the absolute conditions, otherwise I do not trust you with a penny.”
“I’ll keep them, father—never fear! Oh, how delighted I am! I know you’ll be pleased; I know what you’ll say by-and-by. I’m certain I won’t fail, certain. I always loved cooking and housekeeping. Fancy making pie-crust myself,[Pg 22] and cakes, and custards! Mrs. Power is rather cross, but she’ll have to let me make what things I choose when I’m housekeeper, won’t she, father?”
“Manage it your own way, dear, I neither interfere nor wish to interfere. Oh, what a mess we shall be in! But thank heaven it is only for a week. My dear child, I allow you to have your way, but I own it is with trepidation. Now I must really go to Mrs. Judson.”
“But one moment, please, father. I have not shown you my plan. You think badly of me now, but you won’t, indeed you won’t presently. I am all system, I assure you. I see my way so clearly. I’ll retrench without being mean, and I’ll economize without being stingy. Don’t I use fine words, father? That’s because I understand the subject so thoroughly.”
“Quite so, Polly. Now I must be going. Good-night, my dear.”
“But my plan—you must stay to hear it. Do you see this box? It has little divisions. I popped them all in before dinner to-day. There is a lock and key to the box, and the lock is a strong one.”
“Well, Polly?”
The Doctor began to get
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