An Old-Fashioned Girl (15 page)

“Are you enjoying yourself, Polly?” asked Mr. Shaw, who looked in, now and then, to report to grandma that all was going well.

“Oh, such a splendid time!” cried Polly, with an enthusiastic little gesture, as she
chasséed
into the corner where he stood.

“She is a regular belle among the boys,” said Fanny, as she promenaded by.

“They are so kind in asking me, and I’m not afraid of them,” explained Polly, prancing, simply because she couldn’t keep still.

“So you
are
afraid of the young gentlemen, hey?” and Mr. Shaw held her by one curl.

“All but Mr. Sydney. He don’t put on airs and talk nonsense; and, oh! he does ‘dance like an angel,’ as Trix says.”

“Papa, I wish you’d come and waltz with me. Fan told me not to go near her, ‘cause my wed dwess makes her pink one look ugly;
and Tom won’t; and I want to dwedfully.”

“I’ve forgotten how, Maudie. Ask Polly; she’ll spin you round like a teetotum.”

“Mr. Sydney’s name is down for that,” answered Polly, looking at her fan with a pretty little air of importance. “But I guess
he wouldn’t mind my taking poor Maud instead. She hasn’t danced hardly any, and I’ve had more than my share. Would it be very
improper to change my mind?” And Polly looked up at her tall partner with eyes which plainly showed that the change was a
sacrifice.

“Not a bit. Give the little dear a good waltz, and we will look on,” answered Mr. Sydney, with a nod and smile.

“That is a refreshing little piece of nature,” said Mr. Shaw, as Polly and Maud whirled away.

“She will make a charming little woman, if she isn’t spoilt.”

“No danger of that. She has got a sensible mother.”

“I thought so.” And Sydney sighed, for he had lately lost his own good mother.

When supper was announced, Polly happened to be talking, or trying to talk, to one of the “poky” gentlemen whom Fan had introduced.
He took Miss Milton down, of course, put her in a corner, and having served her to a dab of ice and one macaroon, he devoted
himself to his own supper with such interest, that Polly would have fared badly, if Tom had not come and rescued her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come with me, and don’t sit starving here,” said Tom, with a scornful look from her
empty plate to that of her recreant escort, which was piled with good things.

Following her guide, Polly was taken to the big china closet, opening from the dining room to the kitchen, and here she found
a jovial little party feasting at ease. Maud and her bosom friend, “Gwace,” were seated on tin cake-boxes; Sherry and Spider
adorned the refrigerator; while Tom and Rumple foraged for the party.

“Here’s fun,” said Polly, as she was received with clash of spoons and a waving of napkins.

“You just perch on that cracker-keg, and I’ll see that you get enough,” said Tom, putting a dumbwaiter before her, and issuing
his orders with a fine air of authority.

“We are a band of robbers in our cave, and I’m the captain; and we pitch into the folks passing by, and go out and bring home
plunder. Now, Rumple, you go and carry off a basket of cake, and I’ll watch here till Katy comes by with a fresh lot of oysters;
Polly must have some. Sherry, cut into the kitchen, and bring a cup of coffee. Spider, scrape up the salad, and poke the dish
through the slide for more. Eat away, Polly, and my men will be back with supplies in a jiffy.”

Such fun as they had in that closet; such daring robberies of jelly pots and cake boxes; such successful raids into the dining
room and kitchen; such base assaults upon poor Katy and the colored waiter, who did his best, but was helpless in the hands
of the robber horde. A very harmless little revel; for no wine was allowed, and the gallant band were so busy skirmishing
to supply the ladies, that they had not time to eat too much. No one missed them; and when they emerged, the feast was over,
except for a few voracious young gentlemen, who still lingered among the ruins.

“That’s the way they always do; poke the girls in corners, give ’em just one taste of something, and then go and stuff like
pigs,” whispered Tom, with a superior air, forgetting certain private banquets of his own, after company had departed.

The rest of the evening was to be devoted to the German; and, as Polly knew nothing about it, she established herself in a
window recess to watch the mysteries. For a time she enjoyed it, for it was all new to her, and the various pretty devices
were very charming; but, by and by, that bitter weed, envy, cropped up again, and she could not feel happy to be left out
in the cold, while the other girls were getting gay tissue-paper suits, droll
bonbons,
flowers, ribbons, and all manner of tasteful trifles in which girlish souls delight. Everyone was absorbed; Mr. Sydney was
dancing; Tom and his friends were discussing baseball on the stairs; and Maud’s set had returned to the library to play.

Polly tried to conquer the bad feeling; but it worried her, till she remembered something her mother once said to her —

“When you feel out of sorts, try to make someone else happy, and you will soon be so yourself.”

“I will try it,” thought Polly, and looked round to see what she could do. Sounds of strife in the library led her to enter.
Maud and the young ladies were sitting on the sofa, talking about each other’s clothes, as they had seen their mammas do.

“Was your dress imported?” asked Grace.

“No; was yours?” returned Blanche.

“Yes; and it cost — oh, ever so much.”

“I don’t think it is as pretty as Maud’s.”

“Mine was made in New York,” said Miss Shaw, smoothing her skirts complacently.

“I can’t dress much now, you know, ’cause mamma’s in black for somebody,” observed Miss Alice Lovett, feeling the importance
which affliction conferred upon her when it took the form of a jet necklace.

“Well, I don’t care if my dress isn’t imported; my cousin had three kinds of wine at her party; so, now,” said Blanche.

“Did she?” And all the little girls looked deeply impressed, till Maud observed, with a funny imitation of her father’s manner
—

“My papa said it was scan-dill-us; for some of the little boys got tipsy, and had to be tooked home. He wouldn’t let us have
any wine; and gwandma said it was vewy impwoper for childwen to do so.”

“My mother says your mother’s
coupé
isn’t half so stylish as ours,” put in Alice.

“Yes, it is, too. It’s all lined with gween silk, and that’s nicer than old wed cloth,” cried Maud, ruffling up like an insulted
chicken.

“Well, my brother don’t wear a horrid old cap, and he’s got nice hair. I wouldn’t have a brother like Tom. He’s horrid rude,
my sister says,” retorted Alice.

“He isn’t. Your brother is a pig.”

“You’re a fib!”

“So are you!”

Here, I regret to say, Miss Shaw slapped Miss Lovett, who promptly returned the compliment, and both began to cry.

Polly, who had paused to listen to the edifying chat, parted the belligerents, and finding the poor things tired, cross, and
sleepy, yet unable to go home till sent for, proposed to play games. The young ladies consented, and “Puss in the corner”
proved a peacemaker. Presently, in came the boys; and being exiles from the German, gladly joined in the games, which soon
were lively enough to wake the sleepiest. “Blind-man’s-buff” was in full swing when Mr. Shaw peeped in, and seeing Polly flying
about with bandaged eyes, joined in the fun to puzzle her. He got caught directly; and great merriment was caused by Polly’s
bewilderment, for she couldn’t guess who he was, till she felt the bald spot on his head.

This frolic put everyone in such spirits, that Polly forgot her trouble, and the little girls kissed each other good-night
as affectionately as if such things as imported frocks,
coupé,s
and rival brothers didn’t exist.

“Well, Polly, do you like parties?” asked Fan, when the last guest was gone.

“Very much; but I don’t think it would be good for me to go to many,” answered Polly, slowly.

“Why not?”

“I shouldn’t enjoy them if I didn’t have a fine dress, and dance all the time, and be admired, and — all the rest of it.”

“I didn’t know you cared for such things,” cried Fanny, surprised.

“Neither did I till tonight; but I do; and as I can’t have ’em, it’s lucky I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Oh, dear! So you are! What shall I do without my ‘sweet P.,’ as Sydney calls you?” sighed Fanny, bearing Polly away to be
cuddled.

Everyone echoed the exclamation next day; and many loving eyes followed the little figure in the drab frock as it went quietly
about, doing for the last time the small services which would help to make its absence keenly felt. Polly was to go directly
after an early dinner, and having packed her trunk, all but one tray, she was told to go and take a run while grandma finished.
Polly suspected that some pleasant surprise was going to be put in; for Fan didn’t offer to go with her, Maud kept dodging
about with something under her apron, and Tom had just whisked into his mother’s room in a mysterious manner. So Polly took
the hint and went away, rejoicing in the thought of the unknown treasures she was to carry home.

Mr. Shaw had not said he should come home so early, but Polly thought he might, and went to meet him. Mr. Shaw didn’t expect
to see Polly, for he had left her very busy, and now a light snow was falling; but, as he turned into the mall there was the
round hat, and under it the bright face, looking all the rosier for being powdered with snowflakes, as Polly came running
to meet him.

“There won’t be anyone to help the old gentleman safely home tomorrow,” he said, as Polly took his hand in both hers with
an affectionate squeeze.

“Yes, there will; see if there isn’t,” cried Polly, nodding and smiling, for Fan had confided to her that she meant to try
it after her friend had gone.

“I’m glad of it. But, my dear, I want you to promise that you will come and make us a visit every winter — a good long one,”
said Mr. Shaw, patting the blue mittens folded round his hand.

“If they can spare me from home, I’d love to come dearly.”

“They must lend you for a little while, because you do us all good, and we need you.”

“Do I? I don’t see how; but I’m glad to hear you say so,” cried Polly, much touched.

“I can’t tell you how, exactly; but you brought something into my house that makes it warmer and pleasanter, and won’t quite
vanish, I hope, when you go away, my child.”

Polly had never heard Mr. Shaw speak like that before, and didn’t know what to say, she felt so proud and happy at this proof
of the truth of her mother’s words, when she said that “even a little girl could exert an influence, and do some good in this
big, busy world.” She only gave her friend a grateful look sweeter than any words, and they went on together, hand in hand,
through the “soft-falling snow.”

If Polly could have seen what went into that top tray, she would have been entirely overcome; for Fanny had told grandma about
the poor little presents she had once laughed at, and they had all laid their heads together to provide something really fine
and appropriate for every member of the Milton family. Such a mine of riches! And so much goodwill, affection, and kindly
forethought was packed away in the tempting bundles, that no one could feel offended, but would find an unusual charm about
the pretty gifts that made them doubly welcome. I only know that if Polly had suspected that a little watch was ticking away
in a little case, with her name on it, inside that trunk, she never could have left it locked as grandma advised, or have
eaten her dinner so quietly. As it was, her heart was very full, and the tears rose to her eyes more than once, everyone was
so kind, and so sorry to have her go.

Tom didn’t need any urging to play escort now; and both Fan and Maud insisted on going too. Mrs. Shaw forgot her nerves, and
put up some gingerbread with her own hands; Mr. Shaw kissed Polly as if she had been his dearest daughter; and grandma held
her close, whispering in a tremulous tone, “My little comfort, come again soon”; while Katy waved her apron from the nursery
window, crying, as they drove away, “The saints bless ye, Miss Polly, dear, and sind ye the best of lucks!”

But the crowning joke of all was Tom’s good-by, for, when Polly was fairly settled in the car, the last “All aboard!” uttered,
and the train in motion, Tom suddenly produced a knobby little bundle, and thrusting it in at the window, while he hung on
in some breakneck fashion, said, with a droll mixture of fun and feeling in his face —

“It’s horrid; but you wanted it, so I put it in to make you laugh. Good-by, Polly; good-by, good-by!”

The last adieu was a trifle husky, and Tom vanished as it was uttered, leaving Polly to laugh over his parting
souvenir
till the tears ran down her cheeks. It was a paper bag of peanuts, and poked down at the very bottom a photograph of Tom.
It was “horrid,” for he looked as if taken by a flash of lightning, so black, wild, and staring was it; but Polly liked it,
and whenever she felt a little pensive at parting with her friends, she took a peanut, or a peep at Tom’s funny picture, which
made her merry again.

So the short journey came blithely to an end, and in the twilight she saw a group of loving faces at the door of a humble
little house, which was more beautiful than any palace in her eyes, for it was home.

“W
hat
do
you think Polly is going to do this winter?” exclaimed Fanny, looking up from the letter she had been eagerly reading.

“Going to deliver lectures on Woman’s Rights,” said the young gentleman who was carefully examining his luxuriant crop of
decidedly auburn hair, as he lounged with both elbows on the chimneypiece.

“Going to set her cap for some young minister and marry him in the spring,” added Mrs. Shaw, whose mind ran a good deal upon
matchmaking just now.

“I think she is going to stay at home, and do
all
the work, ’cause servants cost so much; it would be just like her,” observed Maud, who could pronounce the letter R now.