“Those are well enough for improving reading; but I like real exciting novels; don’t you?”
Polly was spared the mortification of owning that she had never read any, by the appearance of Monsieur, a gray-headed old Frenchman, who went through his task with the resigned air of one who was used to being the victim of giggling schoolgirls. The young ladies gabbled over the lesson, wrote an exercise, and read a little French history. But it did not seem to make much impression upon them, though Monsieur was very ready to explain; and Polly quite blushed for her friend, when, on being asked what famous Frenchman fought in our Revolution, she answered Lamartine, instead of Lafayette.
The hour was soon over; and when Fan had taken a music lesson in another room, while Polly looked on, it was time for recess. The younger girls walked up and down the court, arm in arm, eating bread and butter; others stayed in the schoolroom to read and gossip; but Belle, Trix, and Fanny went to lunch at a fashionable ice cream saloon nearby, and Polly meekly followed, not daring to hint at the gingerbread grandma had put in her pocket for luncheon. So the honest, brown cookies crumbled away in obscurity, while Polly tried to satisfy her hearty appetite on one ice and three macaroons.
The girls seemed in great spirits, particularly after they were joined by a short gentleman with such a young face that Polly would have called him a boy, if he had not worn a tall beaver. Escorted by this impressive youth, Fanny left her unfortunate friends to return to school, and went to walk, as she called a slow promenade down the most crowded streets. Polly discreetly fell behind, and amused herself looking into shopwindows, till Fanny, mindful of her manners, even at such an interesting time, took her into a picture gallery, and bade her enjoy the works of art while they rested. Obedient Polly went through the room several times, apparently examining the pictures with the interest of a connoisseur, and trying not to hear the mild prattle of the pair on the round seat. But she couldn’t help wondering what Fan found so absorbing in an account of a recent German, and why she need promise so solemnly not to forget the concert that afternoon.
When Fanny rose at last, Polly’s tired face reproached her; and taking a hasty leave of the small gentleman, she turned homeward, saying, confidentially, as she put one hand in Polly’s muff, “Now, my dear, you mustn’t say a word about Frank Moore, or papa will take my head off. I don’t care a bit for him, and he likes Trix; only they have quarrelled, and he wants to make her mad by flirting a little with me. I scolded him well, and he promised to make up with her. We all go to the afternoon concerts, and have a gay time, and Belle and Trix are to be there today; so just keep quiet, and everything will be all right.”
“I’m afraid it won’t,” began Polly, who, not being used to secrets, found it very hard to keep even a small one.
“Don’t worry, child. It’s none of our business; so we can go and enjoy the music, and if other people flirt, it won’t be our fault,” said Fanny, impatiently.
“Of course not; but, then, if your father don’t like you to do so, ought you to go?”
“I tell mamma, and she don’t care. Papa is fussy, and grandma makes a stir about every blessed thing I do. You will hold your tongue, won’t you?”
“Yes; I truly will; I never tell tales.” And Polly kept her word, feeling sure Fan didn’t mean to deceive her father, since she told her mother everything.
“Who are you going with?” asked Mrs. Shaw, when Fanny mentioned that it was concert day, just before three o’clock.
“Only Polly; she likes music, and it was so stormy I couldn’t go last week, you know,” answered Fan; adding, as they left the house again, “If anyone meets us on the way, I can’t help it, can I?”
“You can tell them not to, can’t you?”
“That’s rude. Dear me! Here’s Belle’s brother Gus – he always goes. Is my hair all right, and my hat?”
Before Polly could answer, Mr. Gus joined them as a matter of course, and Polly soon found herself trotting on behind, feeling that things were not “all right,” though she didn’t know how to mend them. Being fond of music, she ignorantly supposed that everyone else went for that alone, and was much disturbed by the whispering that went on among the young people round her. Belle and Trix were there in full dress; and, in the pauses between different pieces, Messrs. Frank and Gus, with several other “splendid fellows,” regaled the young ladies with college gossip, and bits of news full of interest, to judge from the close attention paid to their eloquent remarks. Polly regarded these noble beings with awe, and they recognized her existence with the condescension of their sex; but they evidently considered her only “a quiet little thing,” and finding her not up to society talk, blandly ignored the pretty child, and devoted themselves to the young ladies. Fortunately for Polly, she forgot all about them in her enjoyment of the fine music, which she felt rather than understood, and sat listening with such a happy face, that several true music-lovers watched her smilingly, for her heart gave a blithe welcome to the melody which put the little instrument in tune. It was dusk when they went out, and Polly was much relieved to find the carriage waiting for them, because playing third fiddle was not to her taste, and she had had enough of it for one day.
“I’m glad those men are gone; they did worry me so talking, when I wanted to hear,” said Polly, as they rolled away.
“Which did you like best?” asked Fanny, with a languid air of superiority.
“The plain one, who didn’t say much; he picked up my muff when it tumbled down, and took care of me in the crowd; the others didn’t mind anything about me.”
“They thought you were a little girl, I suppose.”
“My mother says a real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a woman; so I like Mr. Sydney best, because he was kind to me.”
“What a sharp child you are, Polly. I shouldn’t have thought you’d mind things like that,” said Fanny, beginning to understand that there may be a good deal of womanliness even in a little girl.
“I’m used to good manners, though I do live in the country,” replied Polly, rather warmly, for she didn’t like to be patronized even by her friends.
“Grandma says your mother is a perfect lady, and you are just like her; so don’t get in a passion with those poor fellows, and I’ll see that they behave better next time. Tom has no manners at all, and you don’t complain of him,” added Fan, with a laugh.
“I don’t care if he hasn’t; he’s a boy, and acts like one, and I can get on with him a great deal better than I can with those men.”
Fanny was just going to take Polly to task for saying “those men” in such a disrespectful tone, when both were startled by a smothered “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” from under the opposite seat.
“It’s Tom!” cried Fanny; and with the words out tumbled that incorrigible boy, red in the face, and breathless with suppressed laughter. Seating himself, he surveyed the girls as if well satisfied with the success of his prank, and waiting to be congratulated upon it. “Did you hear what we were saying?” demanded Fanny, uneasily.
“Oh, didn’t I, every word?” And Tom exulted over them visibly.
“Did you ever see such a provoking toad, Polly? Now, I suppose you’ll go and tell papa a great story.”
“P’r’aps I shall, and p’r’aps I shan’t. How Polly did hop when I crowed! I heard her squeal, and saw her cuddle up her feet.”
“And you heard us praise your manners, didn’t you?” asked Polly, slyly.
“Yes, and you liked ‘em; so I won’t tell on you,” said Tom, with a reassuring nod.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Ain’t there, though? What do you suppose the governor will say to you girls going on so with those dandies? I saw you.”
“What has the Governor of Massachusetts to do with us?” asked Polly, trying to look as if she meant what she said.
“Pooh! you know who I mean; so you needn’t try to catch me up, as grandma does.”
“Tom, I’ll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It wasn’t my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I couldn’t help their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa needn’t be angry; for I behave ever so much better than some of the girls. Don’t I, Polly?”
“Bargain?” observed Tom, with an eye to business.
“If you won’t go and make a fuss, telling what you’d no right to hear – it was so mean to hide and listen; I should think you’d be ashamed of it! – I’ll help you tease for your velocipede, and won’t say a word against it, when mamma and granny beg papa not to let you have it.”
“Will you?” and Tom paused to consider the offer in all its bearings.
“Yes, and Polly will help; won’t you?”
“I’d rather not have anything to do with it; but I’ll be quiet, and not do any harm.”
“Why won’t you?” asked Tom, curiously.
“Because it seems like deceiving.”
“Well, papa needn’t be so fussy,” said Fan, petulantly.
“After hearing about that Carrie, and the rest, I don’t wonder he is fussy. Why don’t you tell right out, and not do it any more, if he don’t want you to?” said Polly, persuasively.
“Do you go and tell your father and mother everything right out?”
“Yes, I do; and it saves ever so much trouble.”
“Ain’t you afraid of them?”
“Of course I’m not. It’s hard to tell sometimes; but it’s so comfortable when it’s over.”
“Let’s!” was Tom’s brief advice.
“Mercy me! What a fuss about nothing!” said Fanny, ready to cry with vexation.
“’Tisn’t nothing. You know you are forbidden to go gallivanting round with those chaps, and that’s the reason you’re in a pucker now. I won’t make any bargain, and I will tell,” returned Tom, seized with a sudden fit of moral firmness.
“Will you if I promise never, never to do so any more?” asked Fanny, meekly; for when Thomas took matters into his own hands, his sister usually submitted in spite of herself.
“I’ll think about it; and if you behave, maybe I won’t do it at all. I can watch you better than papa can; so, if you try it again, it’s all up with you, miss,” said Tom, finding it impossible to resist the pleasure of tyrannizing a little when he got the chance.
“She won’t; don’t plague her any more, and she will be good to you when you get into scrapes,” answered Polly, with her arm round Fan.
“I never do; and if I did, I shouldn’t ask a girl to help me out.”
“Why not? I’d ask you in a minute, if I was in trouble,” said Polly, in her confiding way.
“Would you? Well, I’d put you through, as sure as my name’s Tom Shaw. Now, then, don’t slip, Polly,” and Mr. Thomas helped them out with unusual politeness, for that friendly little speech gratified him. He felt that one person appreciated him; and it had a good effect upon manners and temper made rough and belligerent by constant snubbing and opposition.
After tea that evening, Fanny proposed that Polly should show her how to make molasses candy, as it was cook’s holiday, and the coast would be clear. Hoping to propitiate her tormentor, Fan invited Tom to join in the revel, and Polly begged that Maud might sit up and see the fun; so all four descended to the big kitchen, armed with aprons, hammers, spoons, and pans, and Polly assumed command of the forces. Tom was set to cracking nuts, and Maud to picking out the meats, for the candy was to be “tip-top.” Fan waited on Polly cook, who hovered over the kettle of boiling molasses till her face was the color of a peony. “Now, put in the nuts,” she said at last; and Tom emptied his plate into the foamy syrup, while the others watched with deep interest the mysterious concoction of this well-beloved sweetmeat. “I pour it into the buttered pan, you see, and it cools, and then we can eat it,” explained Polly, suiting the action to the word.
“Why, it’s all full of shells!” exclaimed Maud, peering into the pan.
“Oh, thunder! I must have put ’em in by mistake, and ate up the meats without thinking,” said Tom, trying to conceal his naughty satisfaction, as the girls hung over the pan with faces full of disappointment and despair.
“You did it on purpose, you horrid boy! I’ll never let you have anything to do with my fun again!” cried Fan, in a passion, trying to catch and shake him, while he dodged and chuckled in high glee.
Maud began to wail over her lost delight, and Polly gravely poked at the mess, which was quite spoilt. But her attention was speedily diverted by the squabble going on in the corner; for Fanny, forgetful of her young-ladyism and her sixteen years, had boxed Tom’s ears, and Tom, resenting the insult, had forcibly seated her in the coal-hod, where he held her with one hand while he returned the compliment with the other. Both were very angry, and kept twitting one another with every aggravation they could invent, as they scolded and scuffled, presenting a most unlovely spectacle.
Polly was not a model girl by any means, and had her little pets and tempers like the rest of us; but she didn’t fight, scream, and squabble with her brothers and sisters in this disgraceful way, and was much surprised to see her elegant friend in such a passion. “Oh, don’t! Please, don’t! You’ll hurt her, Tom! Let him go, Fanny! It’s no matter about the candy; we can make some more!” cried Polly, trying to part them, and looking so distressed, that they stopped ashamed, and in a minute sorry that she should see such a display of temper.
“I ain’t going to be hustled round; so you’d better let me alone, Fan,” said Tom, drawing off with a threatening wag of the head, adding, in a different tone, “I only put the shells in for fun, Polly. You cook another kettleful, and I’ll pick you some meats all fair. Will you?”
“It’s pretty hot work, and it’s a pity to waste things; but I’ll try again, if you want me to,” said Polly, with a patient sigh, for her arms were tired and her face uncomfortably hot.
“We don’t want you; get away!” said Maud, shaking a sticky spoon at him.
“Keep quiet, crybaby. I’m going to stay and help; mayn’t I, Polly?”
“Bears like sweet things, so you want some candy, I guess. Where is the molasses? We’ve used up all there was in the jug,” said Polly, good-naturedly, beginning again.
“Down cellar; I’ll get it;” and taking the lamp and jug, Tom departed, bent on doing his duty now like a saint.
The moment his light vanished, Fanny bolted the door, saying, spitefully, “Now, we are safe from any more tricks. Let him thump and call, it only serves him right; and when the candy is done, we’ll let the rascal out.”
“How can we make it without molasses?” asked Polly, thinking that would settle the matter.
“There’s plenty in the storeroom. No; you shan’t let him up till I’m ready. He’s got to learn that I’m not to be shaken by a little chit like him. Make your candy, and let him alone, or I’ll go and tell papa, and then Tom will get a lecture.”
Polly thought it wasn’t fair; but Maud clamored for her candy, and finding she could do nothing to appease Fan, Polly devoted her mind to her cookery till the nuts were safely in, and a nice panful set in the yard to cool. A few bangs at the locked door, a few threats of vengeance from the prisoner such as setting the house on fire, drinking up the wine, and smashing the jelly-pots, and then all was so quiet that the girls forgot him in the exciting crisis of their work.
“He can’t possibly get out anywhere, and as soon as we’ve cut up the candy, we’ll unbolt the door and run. Come and get a nice dish to put it in,” said Fan, when Polly proposed to go halves with Tom, lest he should come bursting in somehow, and seize the whole.
When they came down with the dish in which to set forth their treat, and opened the back door to find it, imagine their dismay on discovering that it was gone – pan, candy, and all – utterly and mysteriously gone!
A general lament arose, when a careful rummage left no hopes; for the fates had evidently decreed that candy was not to prosper on this unpropitious night.