Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📕

On a certain sunny morning in August, four or five weeks after Mrs. Maybright’s death, six girls stood round Dr. Maybright in his study. They were all dressed in deep mourning, but it was badly made and unbecoming, and one and all looked untidy, and a little run to seed. Their ages were as varied as their faces. Helen, aged sixteen, had a slightly plump figure, a calm, smooth, oval face, and pretty gentle blue eyes. Her hair was fair and wavy; she was the tidiest of the group, and notwithstanding the heavy make of her ugly frock, had a very sweet and womanly expression. Polly, all angles and awkwardness, came next in years; she was tall and very slim. Her face was small, her hair nearly black and very untidy, and her big, dark, restless eyes reflected each emotion of her mind.

Polly was lolling against the mantelpiece, and restlessly changing her position from one leg to another; Katie, aged eleven, was something in Helen’s style; then came the twins, Dolly and Mabel, and then a rather pale child, with a somewhat queer expression, commonly known in the family as “Firefly.” Her real name was Lucy, but no one ever dreamt of calling her by this gentle title. “Firefly” was almost always in some sort of disgrace, and scarcely knew what it was not to live in a state of perpetual mental hot water. It was privately whispered in the family circle that Polly encouraged her in her naughtiness. Whether that was the case or not, these two had a kind of quaint, elfish friendship between them, Firefly in her heart of hearts worshipping Polly, and obeying her slightest nod or wish.

“I have sent for you, girls,” said the Doctor, looking round tenderly at his six motherless daughters, “to say that I have talked over matters with Helen, and for the present at least, I am willing to give her plan a trial. I think she is right when she tells me that if it turns out successful nothing would please your mother more. It entirely depends on yourselves whether it succeeds or fails. If you are agreeable to try it, you can come to me to-morrow at this hour and tell me so. Now good-by, my dears. Helen will explain everything to you. Helen, I shall not be in for early dinner. Good-by, good-by to you all.”

The Doctor nodded, looked half-abstractedly at the upturned young faces, pushed his way through the little group, and taking up a parcel of papers and a surgical case which lay near, went straight to his carriage, which was heard immediately afterwards to bowl quickly down the avenue.[Pg 11]

The moment he was gone Helen was surrounded by a clamorous group.

“What is it, Nell? oh, do tell us—tell us quickly,” said they, one and all.

“I thought Helen looked very important these last few days,” said Dolly. “Do tell us what it is, Nell, and what the plan is we are all to agree to.”

“It sounds rather nice to be asked to agree to things,” said Firefly. “What’s the matter, Poll? You look grumpy.”

“I think Helen may be allowed to speak,” said Polly. “Go on, Nell, out with the budget of news. And you young ones, you had better not interrupt her, for if you do, I’ll pay you out by-and-by. Now, Nell. Speak, Nell.”

“It’s this,” said Helen.

She seated herself on the window-ledge, and Polly stood, tall and defiant, at her back. Firefly dropped on her knees in front, and the others lolled about anyhow.

“It’s this,” she said. “Father would like to carry on our education as much in mother’s way as possible. And he says that he is willing, for a time at least, to do without having a resident elderly governess to live with us.”

“Oh, good gracious!” exclaimed Polly, “was there ever such an idea thought of?”

“She’d have spectacles,” said Dolly.

“And a hooked nose,” remarked Katie.

“And she’d be sure to squint, and have false teeth, and I’d hate her,” snapped Firefly, putting on her most vindictive face.

“Well, it’s what’s generally done,” said Helen, in her grave, sad, steady, young voice. “You remember the Brewsters when they—they had their great sorrow—how an elderly governess came, and Aunt Maria Cameron has written to father about two already. She speaks of them as treasures; father showed me the letters. He says he supposes it is quite the usual thing, and he asked me what I’d like. Poor father, you see he must be out all day with the sick folks.”

“Of course,” murmured Polly. “Well, what did you answer him about the old horrors, Nell?”

“One seemed rather nice,” said Helen. “She was about forty-five, and had thin grayish hair. Aunt Maria sent her photograph, and said that she was a treasure, and that father ought not to lose an hour in securing her. Her name was Miss Jenkins.”

“Jenkins or Jones, I’d have given her sore bones,” spitefully improvised Firefly.

“Well, she’s not to come,” continued Helen, “at least, not at present. For I have persuaded father to let us try the other plan. He says all our relations will be angry with him; of course, he is not likely to care for that. This is what we are to try, girls, if you are agreeable. Father is going to get the very best daily governess from Nettleship to come here every morning. She will stay until after early[Pg 12] dinner, and then George will drive her back to town in the pony trap. And then Mr. Masters is to come twice a week, as usual, about our music, and Mr. Danvers for drawing. And Miss Wilson is to stay here most of the day to look after Bunny and Bob. That is a much better arrangement than having a resident governess, is it not?”

“Yes,” said three or four voices, but Polly was silent, and Firefly, eagerly watching her face, closed her own resolute lips.

“That is part of father’s plan,” continued Helen. “But the other, and more important part is this. I am to undertake the housekeeping. Father says he would like Polly to help me a little, but the burden and responsibility of the whole thing rests on me. And also, girls, father says that there must be some one in absolute authority. There must be some one who can settle disputes, and keep things in order, and so he says that unless you are all willing to do what I ask you to do, the scheme must still fall through, and we must be like the Brewsters or any other unhappy girls whose mothers are no longer with them, and have our resident governess.”

“I know you won’t like to obey me,” continued Helen, looking anxiously round, “but I don’t think I’ll be hard on you. No, I am sure I shall not be hard on any of you.”

“That remains to be proved,” said Polly. “I don’t think I like that plan. I won’t give any answer at present—I’ll think about it. Come along, Fly,” she nodded to her younger sister, and then, lifting the heavy bottom sash of the window where Helen had been sitting, stepped lightly out, followed by the obedient Firefly.

“I don’t want to obey Nell,” said the little sister, clasping two of Polly’s fingers with her thin, small hand. “If it was you, Poll Parrot, it would be a different thing, but I don’t want to obey Nell. I don’t think it’s fair; she’s only my sister, like the rest of them. There’s nothing said in the Catechism about obeying sisters. It’s only fathers and mothers, and spiritual pastors and masters.”

“And all those put in authority over you,” proceeded Polly, shaking her fingers free, and facing round on Firefly, in a way which caused that young person to back several inches. “If Helen once gets the authority the Catechism is on her side, not on yours.”

“But I needn’t promise, need I?” pouted Firefly. “If it was you, it would be different. I always did what you wanted me to do, Polly Perkins.”

“Of course you did,” responded Polly, in a most contemptuous voice. “Will a duck swim? I led you into mischief—of course you followed. Well, Fly, it rests with yourself. Don’t obey our dear, good, gentle Nelly, and you’ll have Miss Jenkins here. Won’t it be fun to see her squinting at you over her spectacles when she returns your spelling-lessons. Bread and water will be your principal diet most of the week. Well, good-by now; I’m off to baby.”

Polly took to her heels, and Firefly stood for a moment or two looking utterly miserable and irresolute on the wide gravel walk in the center of the flower-garden. She felt very much inclined to stamp her feet and to screw up her thin little face into contortions of rage. Even very little girls, however, won’t go into paroxysms of anger when there is no one there to see. Firefly’s heart was very sore, for Polly, her idol, had spoken to her almost roughly.

“I wish mother wasn’t in heaven,” she murmured in a grieved little voice, and then she turned and walked back to the house. The nearer she approached the study window the faster grew her footsteps. At last, like a little torrent, she vaulted back into the room, and flung her arms noisily round Helen’s neck.

“I’ll obey you, darling Nell,” she said. “I’d much rather have you than Miss Jenkins.”

And then she sobbed aloud, and really shook herself, for she felt still so angry with Polly.

“That’s a good little Fly,” said Helen, kissing her affectionately in return, and putting her arm round her waist, so as to establish her comfortably on her knee. The other girls were all lying about in different easy attitudes, and Firefly joined in the general talk, and found herself much comforted.