 Chapter 5 of An Old-Fashioned Girl After being unusually good, children are apt to turn short round and refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week after Tom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so that Grandma said she was afraid something was going to happen to them. The dear old lady needn't have felt anxious for such excessive virtue doesn't last long enough to lead to translation, except with little prigs in the goodie storybooks, and no sooner was Tom on his legs again when the whole party went astray and much tribulation was the consequence. It all began with Polly's stupidity, as fans said afterwards. Just as Polly ran down to meet Mr. Shaw one evening and was helping him off with his coat, the bell rang, and a fine bouquet of hot-house flowers was left in Polly's hands, for she never could learn city ways and open the door herself. Hey, what's this? My little Polly is beginning early after all, said Mr. Shaw, laughing, as he watched the girls' face dimple and flush, as she smelt the lovely nose-gay and glanced at a note half-hidden in the heliotrope. Now, if Polly hadn't been stupid, as fans said, she would have had her wits about her and let it pass. But, you see, Polly was an honest little soul, and it never occurred to her that there was any need of concealment, so she answered in her straight-forward way. Oh, they ain't for me, sir. They are for fan. From Mr. Frank, I guess. She'll be so pleased. That puppy sends her things of this sort, does he? And Mr. Shaw looked far from pleased as he pulled out the note and coolly opened it. Polly had her doubts about fans' approval of that sort of thing, but dared not say a word and stood thinking how she used to show her father the funny valentines the boys sent her and how they laughed over them together. But Mr. Shaw did not laugh when he had read the sentimental verses accompanying the bouquet, and his face quite scared Polly, as he asked angrily, How long has this nonsense been going on? Indeed, sir, I don't know. Fan doesn't mean any harm. I wish I hadn't said anything, stammered Polly, remembering the promise given to Fanny the day of the concert. She had forgotten all about it and had become accustomed to see the big boys, as she called Mr. Frank and his friends, with the girls on all occasions. Now it suddenly occurred to her that Mr. Shaw didn't like such amusements and had forbidden fan to indulge in them. Oh dear, how mad she will be! Well, I can't help it. Girls shouldn't have secrets from their fathers. Then there wouldn't be any fuss, thought Polly, as she watched Mr. Shaw twist up the pink note and poke it back among the flowers which he took from her saying shortly, Send Fanny to me in the library. Now you've done it, you stupid thing! cried Fanny, both angry and dismayed, when Polly delivered the message. Why, what else could I do? asked Polly, much disturbed. Let him think the bouquet was for you, then there'd have been no trouble. But that would have been doing a lie, which is almost as bad as telling one. Don't be a goose, you've got me into a scrape and you ought to help me out. I will if I can, but I won't tell lies for anybody, cried Polly, getting excited. Nobody wants you to, just hold your tongue and let me manage. Then I'd better not go down, began Polly, when a stern voice from below called like bluebeard, are you coming down? Yes, sir, answered a meek voice, and Fanny clutched Polly whispering, You must come, I'm frightened out of my wits when he speaks like that. Stand by me, Polly, there's a deer. I will, whispered Sister Anne, and down they went with fluttering hearts. Mr. Shaw stirred on the rug, looking rather grim. The bouquet lay on the table and beside it a note directed to Frank Moore Esquire, in a very decided hand, with a fierce looking flourish after the Esquire, pointing to this impressive epistle. Mr. Shaw said, knitting his black eyebrows as he looked at Fanny, I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense at once, and if I see any more of it, I'll send you to school in a Canadian convent. This awful threat quite took Polly's breath away. But Fanny had heard it before, and having a temper of her own said, certainly, I'm sure I haven't done anything so very dreadful. I can't help it if the boys send me Filipina presents, as they do to the other girls. There was nothing about Filipinas in the note, but that's not the question. I forbid you to have anything to do with this more. He's not a boy, but a fast fellow, and I won't have him about. You knew this, and yet disobeyed me. I hardly ever see him, began Fanny. Is that true? asked Mr. Shaw, turning suddenly to Polly. Oh, please, sir, don't ask me. I promised I wouldn't. That is, Fanny will tell you, cried Polly, quite red with distress at the predicament she was in. No matter about your promise, tell me all you know of this absurd affair. It will do Fanny more good than harm. And Mr. Shaw sat down looking more amiable, for Polly's dismay touched him. May I? she whispered to Fanny. I don't care, answered Fan, looking both angry and ashamed, as she stood sullenly tying knots in her handkerchief. So Polly told, with much reluctance and much questioning, all she knew of the walks, the lunches, the meetings, and the notes. It wasn't much, and evidently less serious than Mr. Shaw expected, for as he listened his eyebrows smoothed themselves out, and more than once his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh. For, after all, it was rather comical to see how the young people aped their elders playing the new-fashioned game, quite unconscious of its real beauty, power, and sacredness. Oh, please, sir, don't blame Fan much, for she truly isn't half as silly as tricks in the other girls. She wouldn't go sleigh-riding, though Mr. Frank teased, and she wanted to ever so much. She's sorry I know and won't forget what you say any more if you'll forgive her this once," cried Polly very earnestly, when the foolish little story was told. I don't see how I can help it when you plead so well for her. Come here, Fan, and mind this one thing. Drop all this nonsense and attend to your books or off you go. And Canada is no joke in wintertime, let me tell you. As he spoke, Mr. Shaw stroked his sulky daughter's cheek, hoping to see some sign of regret. But Fanny felt injured, and wouldn't show that she was sorry, so she only said, pettishly, I suppose I can have my flowers now the fuss is over. They are going straight back where they came from with a line from me which will keep that puppy from ever sending you any more. Ringing the bell, Mr. Shaw dispatched the unfortunate posy, and then turned to Polly, saying, kindly but gravely, set this silly child of mine a good example and do your best for her, won't you? Me? What can I do, sir? asked Polly, looking ready but quite ignorant how to begin. Make her as like yourself as possible, my dear, nothing would please me better. Now go and let us hear no more of this folly. They went without a word, and Mr. Shaw heard no more of the affair. But poor Polly did, for Fan scolded her, till Polly thought seriously of packing up and going home next day. I really haven't the heart to relate the dreadful lectures she got, the snubs she suffered, or the cold shoulders turned upon her for several days after this. Polly's heart was full, but she told no one, and bore her trouble silently, feeling her friends in gratitude and injustice deeply. Tom found out what the matter was, and sided with Polly, which proceeding led to scrape number two. Where's Fan, asked the young gentleman, strolling into his sister's room, where Polly lay on the sofa, trying to forget her troubles in an interesting book. Downstairs seeing company. Why didn't you go, too? I don't like tricks, and I don't know her fine New York friends. Don't want to, neither, why don't you say? Not polite. Who cares, I say Polly, come and have some fun. I'd rather read. That isn't polite. Polly laughed and turned to page. Tom whistled a minute, then sighed deeply and put his hand to his forehead, which the black plaster still adorned. Does your headache, asked Polly, awfully. Better lie down, then. Can't, I'm fidgety, and I want to be amused, as Pug says. Just wait till I finish my chapter, and then I'll come, said pitiful Polly. All right, returned the perjured boy, who had discovered that a broken head was sometimes more useful than a whole one, and exulting in his base stratagem, he roved about the room till Fan's bureau arrested him. It was covered with all sorts of finery, for she had dressed in a hurry and left everything topsy-turvy. A well-conducted boy would have let things alone, or a moral brother would have put things to rights. Being neither Tom rummage to his heart's content, till Fan's drawers looked as if someone had been making hay in them. He tried the effect of earrings, ribbons, and collars, wound up the watch, though it wasn't time. Burnt his inquisitive nose with smelling salts, deluged his grimy handkerchief with Fan's best cologne, anointed his curly crop with her hair oil, powdered his face with her violet powder, and finished off by pinning on a bunch of false ringlets, which Fanny tried to keep a profound secret. The ravages committed by this bad boy are beyond the power of language to describe, as he reveled in the interesting drawers, boxes, and cases which held his sister's treasures. When the curls had been put on, with much pricking of fingers, and a blue ribbon added, La Fan, he surveyed himself with satisfaction, and considered the effect so fine that he was inspired to try a still greater metamorphosis. The dress Fan had taken off lay on a chair, and into it got Tom, chuckling with suppressed laughter, for Polly was absorbed and the bed curtains hid his iniquity. Fan's best velvet jacket and hat, ermine muff, and a sofa pillow for Panier, finished off the costume, and tripping along with elbows out, Tom appeared before the amazed Polly just as the chapter ended. She enjoyed the joke so heartily that Tom forgot consequences, and proposed going down into the parlor to surprise the girls. Goodness, no! Fanny never would forgive us if you showed her curls and things to those people. There are gentlemen among them and it wouldn't be proper, said Polly, alarmed at the idea. All the more fun! Fan hasn't treated you well, and it will serve her right if you introduce me as your dear friend, Miss Shaw. Come on, it will be a jolly lark! I wouldn't for the world. It would be so mean. Take him off, Tom, and I'll play anything else you like. I ain't going to dress up for nothing. I look so lovely, someone must admire me. Take me down Polly and see if they don't call me a sweet creature. Tom looked so unutterably ridiculous as he tossed his curls and prance that Polly went off into another gale of merriment. But even while she laughed, she resolved not to let him mortify his sister. Now then, get out of the way if you won't come. I'm going down, said Tom. If you're not, how will you help it, Miss Prim? So, and Polly locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and nodded at him defiantly. Tom was a pepper pot as to temper, and anything like opposition always had a bad effect. Forgetting his costume, he strode up to Polly saying with a threatening wag of the head, None of that. I won't stand it. Promise not to plague fan, and I'll let you out. Won't promise anything. Give me that key, or I'll make you. Now, Tom, don't be savage. I only want to keep you out of a scrape, for fan will be raging if you go. Take off her things, and I'll give up. Tom vouchsafed no reply, but marched to the other door, which was fast, as Polly knew, looked out of the three-story window, and finding no escape possible came back with a wrathful face. Will you give me that key? No, I won't, said Polly valiantly. I'm stronger than you are, so you'd better hand over. I know you are, but it's cowardly for a great boy like you to rob a girl. I don't want to hurt you, but by George I won't stand this. Tom paused as Polly spoke, evidently ashamed of himself. But his temper was up, and he wouldn't give in. If Polly had cried a little just here, he would have yielded. Unfortunately, she giggled, for Tom's fierce attitude was such a funny contrast to his dress that she couldn't help it. That settled the matter. No girl that ever lived should giggle at him, much less lock him up like a small child. Without a word he made a grab at Polly's arm for the hand holding the key was still in her pocket. With her other hand she clutched her frock, and for a minute held on stoutly. But Tom's strong fingers were irresistible. Rip went the pocket, out came the hand, and with a cry of pain from Polly, the key fell on the floor. It's your own fault if you're hurt, I didn't mean to, muttered Tom as he hastily departed, leaving Polly to groan over her sprained wrist. He went down, but not into the parlor, for somehow the joke seemed to have lost its relish. So he made the girls in the kitchen laugh, and then crept up the back way, hoping to make it all right with Polly. But she had gone to Grandma's room, for though the old lady was out, it seemed a refuge. He had just time to get things in order when Fanny came up, crosser than ever. For tricks had been telling her of all sorts of fun in which she might have had a share if Polly had held her tongue. Where is she? asked Fan, wishing to vent her vexation on her friend. Moping in her room, I suppose, replied Tom, who was discovered reading studiously. Now, while this had been happening, Maude had been getting into hot water also, for when her maid left her to see a friend below, Miss Maude paraded into Polly's room and solaced herself with mischief. In an evil hour Polly had let her play boat in her big trunk, which stood empty. Since then Polly had stored some of her most private treasures in the upper tray, so that she might feel sure they were safe from all eyes. She had forgotten to lock the trunk, and when Maude raised the lid to begin her voyage, several objects of interest met her eyes. She was deep in her researches when Fan came in and looked over her shoulder, feeling too cross with Polly to chide Maude. As Polly had no money for presents, she had exerted her ingenuity to devise all sorts of gifts, hoping by quantity to atone for any shortcomings in quality. Some of her attempts were successful, others were failures, but she kept them all fine or funny, knowing the children at home would enjoy anything new. Some of Maude's cast-off toys had been neatly mended for Kitty. Some of Fan's old ribbons and laces were converted into doll's finery, and Tom's little figures, whittled out of wood in idle minutes, were laid away to show Will what could be done with a knife. What rubbish! said Fanny. Queer girl, isn't she? added Tom, who had followed to see what was going on. Don't you laugh at Polly's things? She makes nicer dolls than you, Fan, and she can whiten draw ever so much better than Tom! cried Maude. How do you know? I never saw her draw, said Tom. Here's a book with lots of pictures in it. I can't weed the whiting, but the pictures are so funny. Eager to display her friend's accomplishments, Maude pulled out a fat little book, marked Polly's journal, and spread it in her lap. Only the pictures. No harm in taking a look at them, said Tom. Just one peep, answered Fanny, and the next minute both were laughing at a droll sketch of Tom in the gutter, with the big dog howling over him, and the velocipede running away. Very rough and faulty, but so funny that it was evident Polly's sense of humor was strong. A few pages farther back came Fanny and Mr. Frank, caricatured. Then Grandma carefully done, Tom reciting his battle piece, Mr. Shaw and Polly in the park, Maude being borne away by Kitty, and all the schoolgirls turned into ridicule with an unsparing hand. Sly little Puss, to make fun of us behind our backs, said Fan, rather netted by Polly's quiet retaliation for many slights from herself and friends. She does draw well, said Tom, looking critically at the sketch of a boy with a pleasant face, round whom Polly had drawn rays like the sun, and under which was written, My Dear Jimmy. You wouldn't admire her if you knew what she wrote here about you, said Fanny, whose eyes had strayed to the written page opposite, and lingered there long enough to read something that excited her curiosity. What is it? asked Tom, forgetting his honorable resolves for a minute. She says, I try to like Tom, and when he is pleasant we do very well, but he don't stay so long. He gets cross and rough, and disrespectful to his father and mother, and plagues us girls, and is so horrid I almost hate him. It's very wrong, but I can't help it. How do you like that? asked Fanny. Go ahead and see how she comes down on you, ma'am, retorted Tom, who had read on a bit. Does she? and Fanny continued rapidly. As for Fan, I don't think we can be friends anymore, for she told her father a lie and won't forgive me for not doing so too. I used to think her a very fine girl, but I don't now. If she would be as she was when I first knew her, I should love her just the same, but she isn't kind to me, and though she is always talking about politeness, I don't think it is polite to treat company as she does me. She thinks I am odd and contrived, and I dare say I am, but I shouldn't laugh at a girl's clothes because she was poor, or keep her out of the way because she didn't do just as other girls do here. I see her make fun of me and I can't feel as I did, and I'd go home only it would seem ungrateful to Mr. Sean Grandma and I do love them dearly. I say, Fan, you've got it now, shut the book and come away, cried Tom, enjoying this broadside immensely, but feeling guilty as well he might. Just one bit more, whispered Fanny, turning on a page or two, and stopping at a leaf that was blurred here and there as if tears had dropped on it. Sunday morning, early. Nobody is up to spoil my quiet time and I must write my journal for I've been so bad lately I couldn't bear to do it. I'm glad my visit is most done for things worry me here and there isn't anyone to help me get right when I get wrong. I used to envy Fanny, but I don't now for her father and mother don't take care of her as mind do of me. She is afraid of her father and makes her mother do as she likes. I'm glad I came though, for I see money don't give people everything. But I'd like a little all the same, for it is so comfortable to buy nice things. I read over my journal just now and I'm afraid it's not a good one, for I've said all sorts of things about the people here and it isn't kind. I should tear it out only I promise to keep my diary and I want to talk over things that puzzle me with mother. I see now that it is my fault a good deal, for I haven't been half as patient and pleasant as I ought to be. I will truly try for the rest of the time and be as good and grateful as I can, for I want them to like me, though I'm only an old-fashioned country girl. That last sentence made Fanny shut the book with a face full of self-reproach, for she had said those words herself in a fit of petulance and Polly had made no answer though her eyes filled and her cheeks burned. Fanny opened her lips to say something, but not a sound followed, for there stood Polly looking at them with an expression they had never seen before. What are you doing with my things? she demanded, in a low tone, while her eyes kindled and her colour changed. Mod showed us a book she found, and we were just looking at the pictures, began Fanny, dropping it as if it burnt her fingers. And reading my journal and laughing at my presence and then putting the blame on Mod. It's the meanest thing I ever saw and I'll never forgive you as long as I live. Polly said this all in one indignant breath, and then, as if afraid of saying too much, ran out of the room with such a look of mingled contempt, grief and anger that the three culprits stood dumb with shame. Tom hadn't even a whistle at his command. Mod was so scared at gentle Polly's outbreak that she sat as still as a mouse, while Fanny, conscious stricken, laid back the poor little presence with a respectful hand, for somehow the thought of Polly's poverty came over her as it never had done before. And these odds and ends so carefully treasured up for those at home touched Fanny and grew beautiful in her eyes. As she laid by the little book, the confessions in it reproached her more sharply than any words Polly could have spoken, for she had laughed at her friend, had slighted her sometimes, and been unforgiving for an innocent offense. That last page, where Polly took the blame on herself and promised to truly try to be more kind and patient, went to Fanny's heart, melting all the coldness away, and she could only lay her head on the trunk sobbing. It wasn't Polly's fault, it was all mine. Tom, still red with shame at being caught in such a scrape, left Fanny to her tears, and went manfully away to find the injured Polly, and confess his manifold transgressions. But Polly couldn't be found. He searched high and low in every room, yet no sign of the girl appeared, and Tom began to get anxious. She can't have run away home, can she, he said to himself, as he paused before the hat-tree. There was the little round hat, and Tom gave it a remorseful smooth, remembering how many times he had tweaked it half off, or poked it over poor Polly's eyes. Maybe she's gone down to the office to tell Polly, it isn't a bit like her though. Anyway, I'll take a look round the corner. Eager to get his boots, Tom pulled open the door of a dark closet under the stairs, and nearly tumbled over backward with surprise. For there on the floor, with her head pillowed on a pair of rubbers, lay Polly in an attitude of despair. This mournful spectacle sent Tom's penitent speech straight out of his head, and with an astonished, He stood and stared in impressive silence. Polly wasn't crying, and lay so still that Tom began to think she might be in a fit or a faint, and then anxiously down to inspect the pathetic bunch. A glimpse of wet eyelashes, a round cheek rather than usual, and lips parted by quick breathing, relieved his mind upon that point, so, taking courage, he sat down on the boot jack, and begged pardon like a man. Now Polly was very angry, and I think she had a right to be. But she was not resentful, and after the first flash was over she soon began to feel better about it. It wasn't easy to forgive. But as she listened to Tom's honest voice, getting gruff with remorse now and then, she couldn't harden her heart against him, or refuse to make up when he so frankly owned that it was confounded mean to read her book that way. She liked his coming and begging pardon at once, it was a handsome thing to do. She appreciated it, and forgave him in her heart some time before she did with her lips. For to tell the truth, Polly had a spice of girlish malice, and rather liked to see domineering Tom eat humble pie, just enough to do him good, you know. She felt that atonement was proper, and considered it no more than just that fans should drench a handkerchief or two with repentant tears, and that Tom should sit on a very uncomfortable seat and call himself hard names for five or ten minutes before she relented. Come now, do say a word to a fellow. I'm getting the worst of it anyway, for there's Fan crying her eyes out upstairs, and here are you stowed away in a dark closet as dumb as a fish, and nobody but me to bring you both round. I'd have cut over to the smiles and got Ma home to fix things, only it looked like backing out of the scrape, so I didn't, said Tom as a last appeal. Polly was glad to hear that Fan was crying. It would do her good. But she couldn't help softening to Tom, who did seem in a predicament between two weeping damsels. A little smile began to dimple the cheek that wasn't hidden, and then a hand came slowly out from under the curly head, and was stretched toward him silently. Tom was just going to give it a hearty shake when he saw a red mark on the wrist, and knew what made it. His face changed, and he took the chubby hand so gently that Polly peeped to see what it meant. Will you forgive that, too? he asked, in a whisper, stroking the red wrist. Yes, it don't hurt much now, and Polly drew her hand away, sorry he had seen it. I was a beast, that's what I was, said Tom, in a tone of great disgust, and just at that awkward minute, down-tumbled his father's old beaver over his head and face, putting a comical quencher on his self-approaches. Of course, neither could help laughing at that, and when he emerged, Polly was sitting up, looking as much better for her shower as he did for his momentary eclipse. Fan feels dreadfully, will you kiss and be friends if I trot her down, asked Tom, remembering his fellow sinner. I'll go to her, and Polly whisked out of the closet as suddenly as she had whisked in, leaving Tom sitting on the boot jack with a radiant countenance. How the girls made it up no one ever knew, but after much talking and crying, kissing and laughing, the breach was healed and peace declared. A slight haze still lingered in the air after the storm, for Fanning was very humble and tinder that evening. Tom a trifle pensive but distressingly polite, and Polly magnanimously friendly to everyone, for generous natures like to forgive, and Polly enjoyed the petting after the insult, like a very human girl. As she was brushing her hair at bedtime, there came a tap on her door and, opening it, she beheld nothing but a tall, black bottle, with a strip of red flannel tied round it like a cravat, and a cocked hat note on the cork. Inside were these lines, written in a sprawling hand with very black ink. Dear Polly, Opie Dildock is first rate for sprains. You put a lot on the flannel and do up your wrist, and I guess it will be all right in the morning. Will you come a sleigh ride tomorrow? I am awful sorry I hurt you. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Of An Old-Fashioned Girl This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. An Old-Fashioned Girl By Louisa May Alcott Chapter 6 Grandma Where's Polly? asked Fan once snowy afternoon, as she came into the dining room where Tom was reposing on the sofa with his boots in the air, absorbed in one of those delightful books in which boys are cast away on desert islands, where every known fruit, vegetable, and flower is in its prime all the year round, or lost in boundless forests, where the young heroes have thrilling adventures, kill impossible beasts, and when the author's invention gives out, suddenly find their way home, laden with tiger skins, tame buffaloes, and other pleasing trophies of their prowess. To know, was Tom's brief reply, for he was just escaping from an alligator of the largest size. Do put down that stupid book and let's do something, said Fanny, after a listless stroll round the room. Hi, they've got him! was the only answer vouchsafe by the absorbed reader. Where's Polly? asked Mod, joining the party with her hands full of paper dolls all suffering for baldresses. Do get along and don't bother me! cried Tom, exasperated at the interruption. Then tell us where she is. I'm sure you know, for she was down here a little while ago, said Fanny. Up in Grandma's room, maybe. Provoking thing, you knew it all the time and didn't tell just to play, Gus, scolded Mod. But Tom was now under water, stabbing his alligator, and took no notice of the indignant departure of the young ladies. Polly's always poking up in Grandma's room. I don't see what fun there is in it, said Fanny as they went upstairs. Polly's a very queer girl, and Grandma pets her a great deal more than she does me, observed Mod, with an injured air. Let's peek and see what they're doing, whispered Fanny, pausing at the half-open door. Grandma was sitting before a quaint old cabinet, the doors of which stood open, showing glimpses of the faded relics treasured there. On a stool at the old lady's feet, set Polly, looking up with intent face and eager eyes, quite absorbed in the history of a high-heeled brocade shoe which lay in her lap. Well, my dear, Grandma was saying, she had it on the very day that Uncle Joe came in as she said at work, and said, Dolly, we must be married at once. Very well, Joe, says Aunt Dolly, and down she went to the parlor, where the minister was waiting, never stopping to change the dimedy dress she wore, and was actually married with her scissors and pinball at her side and her thimble on. That was in war times. 1812, my dear, and Uncle Joe was in the army, so he had to go, and he took that very little pinball with him. Here it is with the mark of a bullet through it, for he always said his Dolly's cushion saved his life. How interesting that is, cried Polly, as she examined the faded cushion with the hole in it. Why, Grandma, you never told me that story, said Fanny, hurrying in, finding the prospect was a pleasant one for a stormy afternoon. You never asked me to tell you anything, my dear, so I kept my old stories to myself, answered Grandma quietly. Tell some now, please, may we stay and see the funny things, said Fanon Maud, eyeing the open cabinet with interest. If Polly likes, she is my company and I am trying to entertain her, for I love to have her come, said Grandma with her old time politeness. Oh yes, do let them stay and hear the stories. I have often told them what good times we have up here, and tease them to come, but they think it's too quiet. Now sit down, girls, and let Grandma go on. You see I pick out something in the cabinet that looks interesting, and then she tells me about it, said Polly, eager to include the girls in her pleasures, and glad to get them interested in Grandma's reminiscences, for Polly knew how happy it made the lonely old lady to live over her past, and to have the children round her. Here are three drawers that have not been opened yet. Each take one and choose something from it for me to tell about, said Madame, quite excited at the unusual interest in her treasures. So the girls each opened a drawer, and turned over the contents till they found something they wanted to know about. Maud was ready first, and holding up an oddly shaped linen bag with a big blue F embroidered on it, demanded her story. Grandma smiled as she smoothed the old thing tenderly, and began her story with evident pleasure. My sister Nelly and I went to visit an aunt of ours when we were little girls, but we didn't have a very good time, for she was extremely strict. One afternoon, when she had gone out to tea, an old Debbie the maid was asleep in her room. We sat on the doorstep, feeling homesick and ready for anything to amuse us. What shall we do? said Nelly. Just as she spoke, a ripe plum dropped bounce on the grass before us, as if answering her question. It was all the plum's fault, for if it hadn't fallen at that minute, I never should have had the thought which popped into my mischievous mind. Let's have as many as we want, and play got Betsy to pay her for being so cross, I said, giving Nelly half the great purple plum. It would be dreadful naughty, began Nelly, but I guess we will, she added, as the sweet mouthful slipped down her throat. Debbie's asleep? Come on then, and help me shake, I said, getting up, eager for the fun. We shook and shook till we got red in the face, but not one dropped, for the tree was large and our little arms were not strong enough to stir the boughs. Then we threw stones, but only one green and one half ripe one came down, and my last stone broke the shed window, so there was an end to that. It's as provoking as Betsy herself, said Nelly, as we sat down out of breath. I wished the wind would come and blow him down for us, panted I, staring up at the plums with longing eyes. If wishing would do any good, I should wish him in my lap at once, added Nelly. You might as well wish him in your mouth and done with it if you are too lazy to pick him up. If the latter wasn't too heavy we could try that, said I, determined to have them. You know we can't stir it, so what is the use of talking about it? You proposed getting the plums, now let's see you do it, answered Nelly rather crossly, for she had bitten the green plum and it puckered her mouth. Wait a minute, and you will see me do it, cried I, as a new thought came into my naughty head. What are you taking your shoes and socks off for? You can't climb the tree, fan! Don't ask questions, but be ready to pick them up when they fall, Miss Lazy Bones. With this mysterious speech I padded into the house barefooted and full of my plan. Upstairs I went to a window opening on the shed roof, out I got, and creeping carefully along till I came near the tree. I stood up and suddenly crowed like the little rooster. Nelly looked up and stared and laughed and clapped her hands when she saw what I was going to do. I'm afraid you'll slip and get hurt. Don't care if I do, I'll have those plums if I break my neck doing it. And half sliding, half walking I went down the sloping roof till the boughs of the tree were within my reach. Hurrah! cried Nelly, dancing down below as my first shake sent a dozen plums rattling round her. Hurrah! cried I, letting go one branch and trying to reach another, but as I did so my foot slipped. I tried to catch something to hold by but found nothing and with a cry down I fell like a very big plum on the grass below. Fortunately the shed was low, the grass was thick and the tree broke my fall, but I got a bad bump and a terrible shaking. Nelly thought I was killed and began to cry with her mouth full, but I picked myself up in a minute for I was used to such tumbles and didn't mind the pain half as much as the loss of the plums. Hush! Debbie will hear and spoil all the fun. I said I'd get them and I have, see what lots have come down with me. So there had for my fall shook the tree almost as much as it did me and the green and purple fruit lay all about us. By the time the bump on my forehead had swelled as big as a nut our aprons were half full and we sat down to enjoy ourselves, but we didn't. Oh dear no, for many of the plums were not ripe, some were hurt by the birds, some crushed and falling and many as hard as stones. Nelly got stung by a wasp, my head began to ache and we sat looking at one another rather dismally when Nelly had a bright idea. Let's cook them, then they'll be good and we can put some away in our little pales for tomorrow. That will be splendid, there's a fire in the kitchen, Debbie always leaves the kettle on and we can use her saucepan and I know where the sugar is and we'll have a grand time. In we went and fell to work very quietly, it was a large open fireplace with the coals nicely covered up and the big kettle simmering on the hook. We raked open the fire, put on the saucepan and in it the best of our plums with water enough to spoil them. But we didn't know that and felt very important as we sat waiting for it to boil, each armed with a big spoon while the sugar box stood between us ready to be used. How slow they were to be sure, I never knew such obstinate things for they wouldn't soften though they danced about in the boiling water and bobbed against the cover as if they were doing their best. The sun began to get low, we were afraid Debbie would come down and still those dreadful plums wouldn't look like sauce. At last they began to burst, the water got a lovely purple, we put lots of sugar in and kept tasting till our aprons and faces were red and our lips burnt with the hot spoons. There's too much juice, said Nelly, shaking her head wisely. It ought to be thick and nice like mamas. I'll pour off some of the juice and we can drink it, said I, feeling that I'd made a mistake in my cooking. So Nelly got a bowl and I got a towel and lifted the big saucepan carefully off. It was heavy and hot and I was a little afraid of it but didn't like to say so. Just as I began to pour, Debbie suddenly called from the top of the stairs, children what under the sun are you doing? It startled us both. Nelly dropped the bowl and ran and I dropped the saucepan and didn't run for a part of the hot juice splashed upon my bare feet and ankles and made me scream with dreadful pain. Down rushed Debbie to find me dancing about the kitchen with a great bump on my forehead, a big spoon in my hand and a pair of bright purple feet. The plums were lying all over the hearth, the saucepan in the middle of the room, the basin was broken and the sugar swimming about as if the bowl had turned itself over trying to sweeten our mess for us. Debbie was very good to me, for she never stopped to scold but laid me down on the old sofa and bound up my poor little feet with oil and cotton wool. Nelly, seeing me lie white and weak, thought I was dying and went over to the neighbors for Aunt Betsy and burst in upon the old ladies sitting primely at their tea, crying distractedly, oh Aunt Betsy come quick, for the saucepan had fell off the shed and fans' feet are all boiled purple. Nobody laughed at this funny message and Aunt Betsy ran all the way home with a muffin in her hand and her ball in her pocket though the knitting was left behind. I suffered a great deal, but I wasn't sorry afterward for I learned to love Aunt Betsy who nursed me tenderly and seemed to forget her strict ways in her anxiety for me. This bag was made for my special comfort and hung on the sofa where I lay all those weary days. Aunt kept it full of pretty patchwork or, what I liked better, ginger nuts and peppermint drops to amuse me, though she didn't approve of costing children up any more than I do now. I like that very well and I wish I could have been there, was Maud's condescending remark, as she put back the little bag after a careful peep inside as if she hoped to find an ancient ginger nut or a well-preserved peppermint drop still lingering in some corner. We had plums enough that autumn, but didn't seem to care much about them after all, for our prank became a household joke and for years we never saw the fruit, but Nellie would look at me with a funny face and whisper, Purple stockings, fan. Thank you, ma'am, said Polly. Now, fan, your turn next. Well, I have a bundle of old letters and I'd like to know if there is any story about them, answered Fanny, hoping some romance might be forthcoming. Grandma turned over the little packet tied up with a faded pink ribbon, a dozen yellow notes written on rough, thick paper, with red wafers still adhering to the folds, showing plainly that they were written before the day of initial note paper and self-sealing envelopes. They are not love letters, dearie, but notes from my mates after I left Miss Cotton's boarding school. I don't think there is any story about them. And Grandma turned them over with spectacles before the dim eyes, so young and bright when they first read the very same notes. Fanny was about to say, I'll choose again. When Grandma began to laugh so heartily that the girls felt sure she had caught some merry old memory which would amuse them. Blast my heart, I haven't thought of that frolic this forty years. Poor, dear, giddy Sally Pomroy, and she's a great grandmother now, cried the old lady, after reading one of the notes and clearing the mist off her glasses. Now, please tell about her. I know it's something funny to make you laugh so, said Polly and fan together. While it was droll and I'm glad I remembered it, for it's just the story to tell you young things. It was years ago, began Grandma briskly, and teachers were very much stricter than they are now. The girls at Miss Cotton's were not allowed lights in their rooms after nine o'clock, never went out alone, and were expected to behave like models of propriety from morning till night. As you may imagine, ten young girls full of spirits and fun found these rules hard to keep and made up for good behavior in public by all sorts of frolics and private. Miss Cotton and her brother sat in the back parlor after school was over and the young ladies were sent to bed. Mr. John was very death, and Miss Priscilla very nearsighted, two convenient afflictions for the girls on some occasions, but once they proved quite the reverse as usual here. We had been very primed for a week, and our bottled up spirits could no longer be contained, so we planned a revel after our own hearts and set our wits to work to execute it. The first obstacle was surmounted in this way. As none of us could get out alone, we resolved to lower Sally from the window, for she was light and small and very smart. With our combined pocket money, she was to buy nuts and candy, cake and fruit, pie and a candle, so that we might have a light after Betsy took ours away as usual. We were to darken the window of the inner chamber, set a watch in the little entry, light up, and then for a good time. At eight o'clock on the appointed evening, several of us professed great weariness and went to our room, leaving the rest sewing virtually with Miss Cotton, who read Hannah Moore's sacred dramas aloud, in a way that fitted the listeners for bed as well as a dose of opium would have done. I am sorry to say I was one of the ring-leaders, and as soon as we got upstairs produced the rope provided for the purpose and invited Sally to be lowered. It was an old-fashioned house, sloping down behind, and the closet window chosen by us was not many feet from the ground. It was a summer evening, so that at eight o'clock it was still light, but we were not afraid of being seen, for the street was a lonely one, and our only neighbors two old ladies, who put down their curtains at sunset, and never looked out till morning. Sally had been bribed by promises of as many goodies as she could eat, and being a regular madcap she was ready for anything. Tying the rope round her waist she crept out, and we let her safely down, sent a big basket after her, and saw her slip round the corner in my big sun bonnet, and another girl's shawl, so that she should not be recognized. Then we put our nightgowns over our dresses, and were laid peacefully in bed when Betsy came up earlier than usual, for it was evident that Miss Cotton felt a little suspicious at our sudden weariness. For half an hour we lay laughing and whispering, as we waited for the signal from Sally. At last we heard a cricket chirp shrily under the window, and flying up saw a little figure below in the twilight. Oh, quick, quick! cried Sally, panting with haste. Draw up the basket, and then get me in, for I saw Mr. Cotton in the market, and ran all the way home, so that I might get in before he came. Up came the heavy basket, bumping and scraping on the way, and smelling oh, so nice! Down went the rope, and with a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether. We hoisted poor Sally halfway up to the window, when, sad to tell, the rope slipped and down she fell, only being saved from broken bones by the haycock under the window. He's coming! He's coming! Oh, pull me up for mercy's sake! cried Sally, scrambling to her feet unhurt, but a good deal shaken. We saw a dark figure approaching, and dragged her in with more bumping and scraping, and embraced her with rapture, for we had just escaped being detected by Mr. John, whose eyes were as sharp as his ears were dull. We heard the front door shut, then a murmur of voices, and then Betsy's heavy step coming upstairs. Under the bed went the basket, and into the beds went the conspirators, and nothing could have been more decorous than the appearance of the room when Betsy popped her head in. It was faster as an old fidget to send me traveling up again, just because he fancied he saw something amiss at the window. Nothing but a curtain flapping, or a shatter for the poor deers is sleeping like lambs. We heard her say this to herself, and a general titter agitated the white coverlets as she departed. Sally was in high feather at the success of her exploit, and danced about like an elf, as she put her nightgown on over her frock, braided her hair in funny little tails all over her head, and fastened the great red pen cushion on her bosom for a breast-pin in honour of the feast. The other girls went to their rooms as agreed upon, and all was soon dark and still upstairs, while Miss Cotton began to enjoy herself below, as she always did when her young charges were safely disposed of. Then ghosts began to walk, and the mice scuttled back to their holes in alarm, for white figures glided from room to room, till all were assembled in the little chamber. The watch was set at the entry door, the signal agreed upon, the candle lighted, and the feast spread forth upon a newspaper on the bed, with the coverlet arranged so that it could be whisked over the refreshments at a moment's notice. How good everything was, to be sure! I don't think I've eaten any pie scents that had such a delicious flavour as those broken ones eaten hastily in that little oven of her room, with Sally making jokes and the others enjoying stolen sweets with true girlish relish. Of course it was very wicked, but I must tell the truth. We were just beginning on the cake when the loud scratching of a rat disturbed us. Signal, fly, run, hide, hush, don't laugh! cried several voices, and we scuttled into bed as rapidly and noiselessly as possible, with our mouths in hands full. A long pause broken by more scratching, but as no one came, we decided on sending to inquire what it meant. I went and found Mary, the picket guard half asleep, and longing for her share of the feast. It was a real rat. I've not made a sound. Do go and finish. I'm tired of this, said Mary, slapping away at the mosquitoes. Back I hurried with the good news. Everyone flew up briskly. We lighted the candle again and returned to our revel. The refreshments were somewhat injured by Sally's bouncing in among them. But we didn't care, and soon finished the cake. Now let's have the nuts, I said, groping for the paper bag. They are almonds and peanuts, so we can crack them with our teeth. Be sure you get the bag by the right end, said Sally. I know what I'm about, and to show her that it was all right, I gave the bag a little shake when out flew the nuts rattling like a hail storm all over the uncarpeted floor. Now you've done it, cried Sally, as Mary scratched like a mad rat and a door creaked below, for Miss Cotton was not deaf. Such a flurry as we were in. Out went the candle, and each one rushed away with as much of the feast as she could seize in her haste. Sally dived into her bed, recklessly demolishing the last pie and scattering the candy far and wide. Poor Mary was nearly caught, for Miss Cotton was quicker than Betsy, and our guard had to run for her life. Our room was the first, and was in good order, though the two flushed faces on the pillows were rather suspicious. Miss Cotton stood staring about her, looking so funny without her cap that my bedfella would have gone off in a fit of laughter if I had not pinched her warningly. Young ladies, what is this unseemly noise? No answer from us but a faint snore. Miss Cotton marched into the next room, put the same question, and received the same reply. In the third chamber lay Sally, and we trembled as the old lady went in. Sitting up we peeped and listened breathlessly. Sarah, I command you to tell me what this all means. But Sally only sighed in her sleep and muttered wickedly. Ma, take me home, I'm starved at Cotton's. Mercy on me, is the child going to have a fever? cried the old lady, who did not observe the tell-tale nuts at her feet. So dull, so strict, oh, take me home! moaned Sally, tossing her arms and gurgling like a naughty little gypsy. That last bit of acting upset the whole concern, for as she tossed her arms she showed the big red cushion on her breast. Nearsighted as she was, that ridiculous object could not escape Miss Cotton. Neither did the orange that rolled out from the pillow, nor the boots appearing at the foot of the bed. With sudden energy the old lady plucked off the cover, and there lay Sally with her hair dressed, la topsy. Her absurd breast-pen and her dusty boots, among papers of candy, bits of pie and cake, oranges and apples, and a candle upside down burning a hole in the sheet. At the sound of Miss Cotton's horrified exclamation, Sally woke up and began laughing so merrily that none of us could resist following her example, and the rooms rang with merriment for many minutes. I really don't know when we should have stopped if Sally had not got choked with the nut she had in her mouth, and so frightened us nearly out of our wits. What became of the things, and how were you punished? asked Fan in the middle of her laughter. The remains of the feast went to the pig, and we were kept on bread and water for three days. Did that cure you? Oh dear, no. We had half a dozen other frolics that very summer, and although I cannot help laughing at the remembrance of this, you must not think, child, that I approve of such conduct or excuse it. No, no, my dear, far from it. I call that a tip-top story. Drive on, Grandma, and tell one about boys, broke in a new voice, and there was Tom a stride of a chair listening and laughing with all his might, for his book had come to an end, and he had joined the party unobserved. Wait for your turn, Tommy. Now, Polly dear, what will you have? said Grandma, looking so lively and happy that it was very evident reminiscing did her good. Let mine come last, and tell one for Tom next, said Polly, looking round and beckoning him nearer. He came and sat himself cross-legged on the floor before the lower drawer of the cabinet, which Grandma opened for him, saying with a benign stroke of the curly head, There, dear, that's where I keep the little memorials of my brother Jack. Poor lad, he was lost at sea, you know. Well, choose anything you like, and I'll try to remember a story about it. Tom made a rapid rummage, and fished up a little broken pistol. There, that's the chap for me. Wish it wasn't spoiled, then we'd have fun popping away at the cats in the yard. Now then, Grandma. I remember one of Jack's pranks, when that was used with great effect, said Grandma, after a thoughtful pause, during which Tom teased the girls by snapping the lock of the pistol in their faces. Once upon a time, continued Madame, much flattered by the row of interested faces before her. My father went away on business, leaving mother, aunt, and us girls to Jack's care. Very proud he was to be sure of the responsibility, and the first thing he did was to load that pistol and keep it by his bed, in our great worryment, for we feared he'd kill himself with it. For a week all went well. Then we were startled by the news that robbers were about. All sorts of stories flew through the town we were living in the country then. Some said that certain houses were marked with a black cross, and those were always robbed. Others, that there was a boy in the gang, for windows, so small that they were considered safe, were entered by some little rogue. At one place the thieves had a supper, and left ham and cake in the front yard. Mrs. Jones found Mrs. Smith's shawl in her orchard, with a hammer and an unknown teapot near it. One man reported that someone tapped at his window in the night, saying softly, Is anyone here? And when he looked out, two men were seen to run down the road. We lived just out of town, in a lonely place. The house was old, with convenient little back windows, and five outside doors. Jack was the only man about the place, and he was barely thirteen. Mother and aunt were very timid, and the children weren't old enough to be of any use. So Jack and I were the home guard, and vowed to defend the family manfully. Good for you! Hope the fellows came! cried Tom, charmed with this opening. One day an ill-looking man came in and asked for food, continued Grandma with a mysterious nod. And while he ate, I saw him glance sharply about from the wooden buttons on the back doors to the silver urn and tankards on the dining room sideboard. A strong suspicion took possession of me, and I watched him as a cat does a mouse. He came to examine the premises, I'm sure of it, but we will be ready for him, I said fiercely as I told the family about him. This fancy haunted us all, and our preparations were very funny. Mother borrowed a rattle, and kept it under her pillow. Aunt took a big bell to bed with her. The children had little tip, the terrier, to sleep in their room. While Jack and I mounted guard, he with the pistol, and I with a hatchet, for I didn't like firearms. Biddy, who slept in the attic, practiced getting out on the shed-roof, so that she might run away at the first alarm. Every night we arranged pitfalls for the robbers, and all filed up to bed, bearing plate, money, weapons, and things to barricade with, as if we lived in war times. We waited a week, and no one came, so we began to feel rather slighted, for other people got a scare, as Tom says. And after all our preparations we really felt a trifle disappointed that we had had no chance to show our courage. At last a black mark was found upon our door, and a great panic ensued, for we felt that now our time had come. That night we put a tub of water at the bottom of the back stairs, and a pile of tin pans at the top of the front stairs, so that any attempt to come up would produce a splash or a rattle. Bells were hung on door handles, sticks of wood piled up in dark corners for robbers to fall over, and the family retired, all armed and all provided with lamps and matches. Jack and I left our doors open, and kept asking one another if we didn't hear something, till he fell asleep. I was wakeful and lay listening to the crickets till the clock struck twelve. Then I got drowsy, and was just dropping off when the sound of steps outside woke me up, staring wide awake. Creeping to the window, I was in time to see by the dim moonlight a shadow glide round the corner and disappear. A queer little thrill went over me, but I resolved to keep quiet till I was sure something was wrong, for I had given so many false alarms, I didn't want Jack to laugh at me again. Popping my head out of the door, I listened, and presently heard a scraping sound near the shed. There they are, but I won't rouse the house till the bell rings or the pans fall. The rogues can't go far without a clatter of some sort, and if we could only catch one of them, we should get the reward and a deal of glory, I said to myself. Grasping my hatchet firmly. A door closed softly below, and a step came creeping towards the back stairs. Sure now of my prey, I was just about to scream Jack when something went splash into the tub at the foot of the back stairs. In a minute everyone was awake and up, for Jack fired his pistol before he was half out of bed, and roared fire so loud it roused the house. Mother sprung her rattle, Aunt rang her bell. Tip barked like mad, and we all screamed, while from below came up a regular Irish howl. Someone brought a lamp, and we peeped anxiously down to see our own stupid biddy sitting in the tub ringing her hands and wailing dismally. Awk, mother, and it's killed I am. The saints be about us. However did I come for an inch this day of water, just creeping in quiet after a bit of stroll with Mike Mahoney, my own boy, that's to marry me entirely come St. Patrick's Day next. We left so we could hardly fish the poor thing up, or listen while she explained that she had slipped out of her window for a word with Mike, and found it fastened when she wanted to come back. So she had sat on the roof, trying to discover the cause of this mysterious barring out, till she was tired, when she prowled round the house till she found a cellar door unfastened, after all our care, and got in quite cleverly, she thought, but the tub was a new arrangement which she knew nothing about, and when she fell into the se, she was bewildered and could only howl. This was not all the damage either, for Aunt fainted with the fright, mother cut her hand with a broken lamp, the children took cold hopping about on the wet stairs, Tiff barked himself sick, I sprained my ankle, and Jack not only smashed a looking glass with his bullets, but spoiled his pistol by the heavy charge put in it. After the damages were repaired and the flurry was well over, Jack confessed that he had marked the door for fun, and shut Biddy out as a punishment for gallivanting, of which he didn't approve, such a rogue as that boy was. But didn't the robbers ever come, cried Tom, enjoying the joke but feeling defrauded of the fight. Never, my dear, thought we had our scare and tested our courage, and that was a great satisfaction, of course, answered Grandma placidly. Well, I think you were the bravest of the lot. I'd like to have seen you flourishing round there with your hatchet, added Tom admiringly, and the old lady looked as much pleased with the compliment as if she had been a girl. I choose this, said Polly, holding up a long white kid-glove, shrunken and yellow with time, but looking as if it had a history. Ah, that now has a story worth telling, cried Grandma, adding proudly. Treat that old glove respectfully, my children, for Lafayette's honoured hand has touched it. Oh, Grandma, did you wear it? Did you see him? Do tell us all about it, and that will be the best of the whole, cried Polly, who loved history, and knew a good deal about the gallant Frenchman and his brave life. Grandma loved to tell this story, and always assumed her most imposing air to do honour to her theme. Drawing herself up, therefore, she folded her hands, and after two or three little hymns began with an absent look, as if her eyes beheld a faraway time which brightened as she gazed. The first visit of Lafayette was before my time, of course, but I heard so much about it from my grandfather that I really felt as if I'd seen it all. Our Aunt Hancock lived in the Governor's house on Beacon Hill at that time. Here the old lady bridled up still more, for she was very proud of our aunt. Ah, my dears, those were the good old times she continued with a sigh. Such dinners and tea parties, such damisked tablecloths and fine plate, such solid, handsome furniture and elegant carriages. Aunt's was lined with red silk velvet, and when the coach was taken away from her at the Governor's death, she just ripped out the lining, and we girls had Spencers made of it. Dear heart, how well I remember playing in Aunt's great garden, and chasing Jack up and down those winding stairs, and my blessed father in his plum-colored coat and knee-buckles, and the queue I used to tie up for him every day, handing Aunt in to dinner, looking so dignified and splendid. Grandma seemed to forget her story for a minute, and become a little girl again, among the playmates dead and gone so many years. Polly motioned the others to be quiet, and no one spoke till the old lady, with a long sigh, came back to the present and went on. Well, as I was saying, the Governor wanted to give a breakfast to the French officers, and Madame, who was a hospitable soul, got up a splendid one for them. But by some mistake or accident, it was discovered at the last minute that there was no milk. A great deal was needed, and very little could be bought or borrowed, so despair fell upon the cooks and maids, and the great breakfast would have been a failure, if Madame, with the presence of mind of her sex, had not suddenly bethought herself of the cows feeding on the common. To be sure they belonged to her neighbours, and there was no time to ask leave, but it was a national affair, our allies must be fed, and feeling sure that her patriotic friends would gladly lay their cows on the altar of their country, Madame Hancock covered herself with glory, by calmly issuing the command, It was done to the great astonishment of the cows and the entire satisfaction of the guests, among whom was Lafayette. This milking feat was such a good joke that no one seems to have remembered much about the great man, though one of his officers, a count, signalised himself by getting very tipsy, and going to bed with his boots and spurs on, which caused the destruction of Aunt's best yellow damask coverlet, for the restless sleeper kicked it into rags by morning, Aunt valued it very much, even in its tattered condition, and kept it a long while as a memorial of her distinguished guests. The time when I saw Lafayette was in 1825, and there were no tipsy counts then. Uncle Hancock, a sweet man, my dears, though some call him mean nowadays, was dead, and Aunt had married Captain Scott. It was not at all the thing for her to do, however that's neither here nor there. She was living in Federal Street at the time, a most aristocratic street then, children, and we live close by. Old Josiah Quincy was mayor of the city, and he sent Aunt word that the Marquis Lafayette wished to pay his respects to her. Of course she was delighted, and we all flew about to make ready for him. Aunt was an old lady, but she made a grand toilet, and was as anxious to look well as any girl. What did she wear? asked Fan, with interest. She wore a steel-colored satin, trimmed with black lace, and on her cap was Pindalafayette badge of white satin. I never shall forget how beautifully she looked as she sat in state on the front parlor, Sophie, right under a great portrait of her first husband. And on either side of her sat Madame Storer and Madame Williams, elegant to behold, in their stiff silks, rich lace, and stately turbans. We don't see such splendid old ladies nowadays. I think we do sometimes, said Polly Slyly. Grandma shook her head, but it pleased her very much to be admired, for she had been a beauty in her day. We girls had dressed the house with flowers. Old Mr. Coolidge sent in a clothes basket full. Joe Joy provided the badges, and Aunt got out some of the revolutionary wine from the old Beacon Street cellar. I wore my green and white palmarine, my hair bowed high, the beautiful leg of mutton sleeves that were so becoming, and these very gloves. Well, by and by the general, escorted by the mayor, drove up. Dear me, I see him now, a little old man in nanking trousers and vest, a long blue coat and ruffled shirt, leaning on his cane, for he was lame and smiling and bowing like a true Frenchman. As he approached, the three old ladies rose, and courtesyed with the utmost dignity. Lafayette bowed first to the governor's picture, then to the governor's widow, and kissed her hand. That was droll, for on the back of her glove was stamped Lafayette's likeness, and the gallant old gentleman kissed his own face. Then some of the young ladies were presented, and, as if to escape any further self-salutations, the marquee kissed the pretty girls on the cheek. Yes, my dears, here is just the spot where the dear old man saluted me. I'm quite as proud of it now as I was then, for he was a brave good man, and helped us in our trouble. He did not stay long, but we were very merry, drinking his health, receiving his compliments, and enjoying the honour he did us. Down in the street there was a crowd, of course, and when he left they wanted to take out the horses and drag him home in triumph. But he didn't wish it, and while that affair was being arranged, we girls had been pelting him with the flowers which we tore from the vases, the walls, and our own top knots to scatter over him. He liked that and laughed, and waved his hand to us while we ran and pelted and begged him to come again. We young folks quite lost our heads that night, and I have in a very clear idea of how I got home. The last thing I remember was hanging out of the window with a flock of girls, watching the carriage roll away, while the crowd cheered as if they were mad. Bless my heart it seems as if I heard them now. Hurrah for Lafayette and Mayor Quincy, hurrah for Madame Hancock and the pretty girls, hurrah for Colonel May. Three cheers for Boston now then, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! And here the old lady stopped, out of breath, with her capesque, her spectacles on the end of her nose, and her knitting much the worse for being waved enthusiastically in the air, while she hung over the arm of her chair, shrilly cheering an imaginary Lafayette. The girls clapped their hands, and Tom hurrahed with all his might, saying when he got his breath, Lafayette was a regular old Trump, I always liked him. My dear, what a disrespectful way to speak of that great man, said Grandma, shocked at young America's irreverence. Well, he was a Trump anyway, so why not call him one, asked Tom, feeling that the objectionable word was all that could be desired. What queer gloves you wore then, interrupted Fanny, who had been trying on the much-honored glove and finding it a tight fit. Much better and cheaper than we have now, returned Grandma, ready to defend the good old times against every insinuation. You are an extravagant set nowadays, and I really don't know what you are coming to. By the way, I've got somewhere two letters written by two young ladies, one in 1517 and the other in 1868. The contrast between the two will amuse you, I think. After a little search, Grandma produced an old portfolio, and selecting the papers, read the following letter, written by Anne Boleyn before her marriage to Henry VIII, and now in the possession of a celebrated antiquarian. Dear Mary, I have been in town almost a month, yet I cannot say I have found anything in London extremely agreeable. We rise so late in the morning, seldom before six o'clock, and set up so late at night, being scarcely in bed before ten, that I am quite sick of it. And was it not for the abundance of fine things I am every day getting, I should be impatient of returning into the country. My indulgent mother bought me, yesterday, at a merchant's and cheap side, three new shifts, that cost fourteen pence and l, and I am to have a pair of new-stuff shoes for my lord of Norfolk's ball, which will be three shillings. The irregular life I have led since my coming to this place has quite destroyed my appetite. You know I could manage a pound of bacon and a tankard of good ale for my breakfast in the country, but in London I find it difficult to get through half the quantity, though I must own I am generally eager enough for the dinner hour, which is here delayed till twelve in your polite society. I played at Hotcockles last night at my lord of Lusters. The lord of Surrey was there, a very elegant young man, who sung a song of his own composition on the lord of Kildare's daughter. It was much approved, and my brother whispered me that the fair Geraldine, for so my lord of Surrey calls his sweetheart, is the finest woman of the age. I should be glad to see her, for I hear she is good as she is beautiful. Pray take care of the poultry during my absence, poor things, I always fed them myself, and if marjorie has knitted me the crimson worst admittance, I should be glad if they were sent up the first opportunity. Adieu, dear Mary, I am just going to mass, and you shall speedily have the prayers, as you have now the kindest love of your own, Anne Boleyn. Up before six, and think it late to go to bed at ten. What a contrived thing Anne must have been. Bacon and ale for breakfast and dinner at twelve. How very queer to live so, cried Fanny. Lord Surrey and lord Lusters sound fine, but Hotcockles and red mittens and shoes for three shillings are horrid. I like it, said Polly thoughtfully, and I'm glad poor Anne had a little fun before her troubles began. May I copy that letter some time, grandma? Yes, dear, and welcome. Now here's the other, by a modern girl on her first visit to London. This will suit you better, Fanny. And grandma read what a friend had sent her as a pendant to Anne's little picture of London life long ago. My dearest Constance. After three months of intense excitement, I snatch a leisure moment to tell you how much I enjoy my first visit to London. Having been educated abroad, it really seems like coming to a strange city. At first the smoke, dirt, and noise were very disagreeable, but I soon got used to these things, and now find all I see perfectly charming. We plunged at once into a whirl of gaiety, and I have had no time to think of anything but pleasure. It is the height of the season, and every hour is engaged either in going to balls, concerts, theatres, fets, and church, or in preparing for them. We often go to two or three parties in an evening, and seldom get home till morning, so of course we don't rise till noon next day. This leaves very little time for our drives, shopping, and calls before dinner at eight, and then the evening gaieties begin again. At a ball at Lady Russell's last night, I saw the Prince of Wales, and danced in the set with him. He is growing stout and looks dissipated. I was disappointed in him, for neither an appearance nor conversation was he at all princely. I was introduced to a very brilliant and delightful young gentleman from America. I was charmed with him, and rather surprised to learn that he wrote the poems which were so much admired last season, also that he is the son of a rich tailor. How odd these Americans are, with their money and talent and independence! Oh, my dear, I must not forget to tell you the great event of my first season. I am to be presented at the next drawing-room. Think how absorbed I must be in preparation for this grand affair. Mama has resolved that I shall do her credit, and we have spent the last two weeks driving about from milliners to mantra-makers, from merchants to jewelers. I am to wear white satin and plumes, pearls and roses. My dress will cost a hundred pounds or more, and is very elegant. My cousins and friends lavish lovely things upon me, and you will open your unsophisticated eyes when I display my silks and laces, trinkets and French hats, not to mention Billy Dew, photographs and other relics of a young Belle's first season. You ask if I ever think of home. I really haven't time, but I do sometimes long a little for the quiet, the pure air and the girlish amusements I used to enjoy so much. One gets pale and old and sadly fagged out with all this dissipation pleasant as it is. I feel quite blah already. If you could send me the rosy cheeks, bright eyes and gay spirits I always had at home, I'd thank you. As you cannot do that, please send me a bottle of June rainwater, for my maid tells me it is better than any cosmetic for the complexion, and mine is getting ruined by late hours. I fancy some fruit off our own trees would suit me, for I have no appetite, and Mama is quite desolate about me. One cannot live on French cookery without dyspepsia, and one can get nothing simple here, for food like everything else is regulated by the fashion. I do, my Cher, I must dress for church. I only wish you could see my new hat and go with me, for Lord Rockingham promised to be there. I do, yours eternally, Florence. Yes, I do like that better, and I wish I had been in this girl's place. Don't you, Polly, said fan, as Grandma took off her glasses. I should love to go to London, and have a good time, but I don't think I should care about spending ever so much money or going to court. Maybe I might when I got there, for I do like fun and splendor," added Honest Polly, feeling that pleasure was a very tempting thing. Grandma looks tired. Let's go and play in the drying room," said Maude, who found the conversation getting beyond her depth. Let us all kiss and thank Grandma for amusing us so nicely before we go, whispered Polly. Maude and Fanny agreed, and Grandma looked so gratified by their thanks that Tom followed suit, merely waiting till those girls were out of sight. To give the old lady a hearty hug and a kiss on the very cheek Lafayette had saluted. When he reached the playroom, Polly was sitting in the swing, saying very earnestly, I always told you it was nice up in Grandma's room, and now you see it is. I wish you'd go off in her. She admires to have you and likes to tell stories and do pleasant things. Only she thinks you don't care for her quiet sort of fun. I do anyway, and I think she's the kindest, best old lady that ever lived, and I love her dearly. I didn't say she wasn't. Only old people are sort of tedious and fussy, so I keep out of their way, said Fanny. Well, you ought not to, and you miss lots of pleasant times. My mother says we ought to be kind and patient and respectful to all old folks just because they are old, and I always mean to be. Your mother's everlastingly preaching, muttered Fanny, netled by the consciousness of her own shortcomings with regard to Grandma. She cried screech, cried Polly, firing up like a flash. She only explains things to us and helps us be good and never scolds, and I'd rather have her than any other mother in the world, though she don't wear velvet cloaks and splendid bonnets, so now go it Polly, called Tom, who was gracefully hanging head downward from the bar put up for his special benefit. Polly's mad, Polly's mad, sung Maud, skipping rope round the room. If Mr. Sidney could see you now thank you such an angel any more, added Fanny, tossing a beanbag in her head at the same time. Polly was mad, her face was very red, her eyes very bright and her lips twitched, but she held her tongue and began to swing as hard as she could, fearing to say something she would be sorry for afterward. For a few minutes no one spoke. Tom whistled and Maud hummed, but Fanny and Polly were each soberly thinking of something, for they had reached an age when children, girls especially, began to observe, contrast, and speculate upon the words, acts, manners and looks of those about them. A good deal of thinking goes on in the heads of these shrewd little folks, and the elders should mind their ways, for they get criticized pretty sharply and imitated very closely. Two little things had happened that day, and the influence of a few words, the careless action, was still working in the active minds of the girls. Mr. Sidney had cold, and while Fanny was talking with him she saw his eye rest on Polly, who sat apart watching the faces round her with the modest, intelligent look which many found so attractive. At that minute Madam Shaw came in, and stopped to speak to the little girl. Polly rose at once, and remained standing till the old lady passed on. Are you laughing at Polly's prim ways? Fanny had asked, as she saw Mr. Sidney smile. No, I'm admiring Miss Polly's fine manners he answered in a grave impactful tone, which had impressed Fanny very much, for Mr. Sidney was considered by all the girls as a model of good breeding, and that indescribable something which they called elegance. Fanny wished she had done that little thing, and won that approving look, for she valued the young man's good opinion, because it was so hard to win, by her said at least. So when Polly talked about old people it recalled the scene, and made fan cross. Polly was remembering how, when Polly came home that day in her fine visiting costume, and Maude ran to welcome her with unusual affection she gathered up her lustrous silk and pushed the little girl away, saying impatiently, don't touch me child your hands are dirty. Then the thought had come to Polly, that the velvet cloak didn't cover a right motherly heart, that the fretful face under the nodding purple plumes was not a tender motherly face, and that the hands in the delicate primrose gloves had put on. She thought of another woman, whose dress never was too fine for little wet cheeks to lie against, or loving little arms to press, whose face, in spite of many lines and the gray hairs above it, was never sour or unsympathetic when children's eyes turned towards it, and whose hands never were too busy, too full or too nice to welcome and serve the little sons and daughters, who freely brought their small hopes and fears, sins and sorrows to her, who dealt out justice and mercy and love. Ah, that's a mother, thought Polly, as the memory came warm into her heart, making her feel very rich and pity-mod for being so poor. This it was that caused such sudden indignation at Fanny's dreadful speech, and this it was that made quick tempered Polly try to calm her wrath before she used toward Fanny's mother the disrespectful tone she so resented toward her own. As the swing came down after some quick journeys to and fro, Polly seemed to have found a smile somewhere up aloft, for she looked toward Fanny saying pleasantly as she paused a little in her airy exercise. I'm not mad now, shall I come and toss with you? No, I'll come and swing with you," answered Fanny, quick to feel the generous spirit of her friend. You were an angel, and I'll never be so rude again, she added, as Polly's arm came round her, and half the seat was gladly offered. No, I ain't. But if I ever get it all like one, it will be mother's preaching that did it," said Polly with a happy laugh. Good for you, Polly peacemaker," cried Tom, quoting his father, and giving them a grand push as the most appropriate way of expressing his approbation of the sentiment. Nothing more was said, but from that day there slowly crept into the family more respect for Grandma, more forbearance with her infirmities, more interest in her little stories, but it wasn't gossip did the dear old lady enjoy with the children as they gathered round her fire, solitary so long. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of an Old-Fashioned Girl This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org An Old-Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 7 Good-bye. Oh dear, must you really go home Saturday? said Fan some days after what Tom called the grand scrimmage. I really must, for I only came to stay a month and here I've been nearly six weeks, answered Polly, feeling as if she had been absent a year. Make it two months and stay over Christmas. Come do now, urged Tom heartily. You are very kind, but I wouldn't miss Christmas at home for anything. Besides, mother says they can't possibly do without me. Neither can we. Can't you tease your mother and make up your mind to stay? began Fan. Polly never teases. She says it's selfish and I don't do it now much, put in mod with a virtuous air. Don't you bother Polly? She'd rather go and I don't wonder. Let's be just as jolly as we can while she stays and finish up with your party Fan, said Tom, in a tone that settled down. Polly had expected to be very happy in getting ready for the party, but when the time came she was disappointed for somehow that naughty thing called envy took possession of her and spoiled her pleasure. Before she left home she thought her new white muslin dress, with its fresh blue ribbons, the most elegant and proper costume she could have. But now when she saw Fan's pink silk with a white Tarleton tunic and innumerable puffings, bows and streamers, her own simple little toilet lost all its charms in her eyes and looked very babyish and old fashioned. Even mod was much better dressed than herself and looked very splendid in her cherry coloured and white suit, with a sash so big she could hardly carry it and little white boots with red buttons. They both had necklaces and bracelets, earrings and brooches, but Polly had no ornament except the plain locket on a bit of blue velvet. Her sash was only a wide ribbon, tied in a simple bow and nothing but a blue snood in the pretty curls. Her only comfort was the knowledge that the modest Tucker drawn up around the plump shoulders was real lace and that her bronze boots cost $9. Poor Polly, with all her efforts to be contented and not to mind looking unlike other people, found it hard work to keep her face bright and her voice happy that night. Now when dreamed what was going on under the muslin frock, till Grandma's wise old eyes spied out the little shadow on Polly's spirits and guessed the cause of it. When dressed the three girls went up to show themselves to the elders who were in Grandma's room where Tom was being helped into an agonisingly stiff collar. Maude pranced like a small peacock and fan made a splendid courtesy as everyone turned to survey them, but Polly stood still and her eyes went from face to face with an anxious wistful air which seemed to say I know I'm not right but I hope I don't look very bad. Grandma read the look in a minute and when Fanny said with a satisfied smile how do we look, she answered drawing Polly toward her so kindly. Very like the fashion plates you got the patterns of your dresses from but this little costume suits me best. Do you really think I look nice? And Polly's face brightened for she valued the old lady's opinion very much. Yes my dear, you look just as I like to see a child of your age look. What particularly appeases me is that you have kept your promise to your mother and haven't let anyone persuade you to wear borrowed finery. Young things like you don't need any ornaments but those you wear tonight. Youth, health, intelligence and modesty. As she spoke Grandma gave a tender kiss that made Polly glow like a rose and for a minute she forgot that there were such things as pink silk and coral earrings in the world. She only said Thank you ma'am and heartily returned the kiss. Words did her good and her plain dress looked charming all of a sudden. Polly so pretty it don't matter what she wears observed Tom, surveying her over his collar with an air of calm approval. She hasn't got any buttles to her dress and I have said mod settling her ruffled bands over her shoulders which looked like cherry colored wings an astout little cherub. I did wish she'd just wear my blue set. Ribbon is so very plain but as Tom says it don't much matter and Fanny gave an effective touch to the blue bow above Polly's left temple. She might wear flowers, they always suit young girls said Mrs. Shaw privately thinking that her own daughters look much the best yet conscious that blooming Polly had the most attractive face. Bless me, I forgot my posies and admiring the bells hand them out Tom and Mr. Shaw nodded toward an interesting looking box that stood on the table. Seizing them wrong side up Tom produced three little bouquets all different in color size and construction. Why Papa how very kind of you cried Fanny who would not dare to receive even a geranium leaf since the late scrape. Your father used to be a very gallant young gentleman once upon a time said Mrs. Shaw with a simper. Ah Tom it's a good sign when you find time to think of giving pleasure to your little girls and Grandma padded her son's bald head as if he wasn't more than fifteen. Thomas Junior had given a somewhat scornful sniff at first but when Grandma praised his father the young man thought better of the matter and regarded the flowers with more respect as he asked which is for which. Guess said Mr. Shaw pleased that his unusual demonstration had produced such an effect the largest was a regular hot house bouquet of tea rose buds scentless heath and smile acts the second was just a handful of sweet peas and mignonette with a few cheerful pansies and one fragrant little rose in the middle the third a small posy of scarlet verbenas white fever few and green leaves not hard to guess the smart one for fan the sweet one for Polly and the gay one for pug now then catch hold girls and Tom proceeded to deliver the nose gaze with as much graces could be expected from a youth in a new suit of clothes and very tight boots that finishes you off just right and is a very pretty attention of Papa's now run down for the Bella's rung and remember not to dance too often fan be as quiet as you can Tom and Ma don't eat too much supper grandma will attend to things for my poor nerves won't allow me to come down with that Mrs. Shaw dismissed them and the four descended to receive the first batch of visitors several little girls who had been asked for the express purpose of keeping Ma out of her sister's way Tom had likewise been propitiated by being allowed to bring his three bosom friends who went by the schoolboy names of rumple sherry and spider they will do to make up sets as gentlemen are scarce and the parties for Polly so I must have some young folks on her account said Fanny when sending out her invitations of course the boys came early and stood about in corners looking as if they had more arms and legs than they knew what to do with Tom did his best to be a good host but ceremony oppressed his spirits and he was forced to struggle manfully with the wild desire to propose a game of leapfrog for the long drawing rooms cleared for dancing tempted him sorely Polly sat where she was told and suffered bashful agonies as fan introduced very fine young ladies and very stiff young gentlemen who all said about the same civil things and then appeared to forget all about her when the first dance was called Fanny Corner Tom who had been dodging her for he knew what she wanted and said in an earnest whisper now Tom you must dance this with Polly you were the young gentleman of the house and it's only proper that you should ask her company first Polly don't care for manners I hate dancing don't know how let go my jacket and don't bother I'll cut away all together growl Tom daunted by the awful prospect of opening the ball with Polly I'll never forgive you if you do come be clever and help me there's a deer you know we both were dreadfully rude Polly and agreed that we'd be as kind and civil to her as ever we could I shall keep my word and see that she isn't slided at my party for I want her to love me and go home feeling all right this artful speech made an impression on the rebellious Thomas who glanced at Polly's happy face remembered his promise and with a groan resolved to do his duty well I'll take her but I shall come to grief for I don't know anything about your old dances yes you do I've taught you the steps a dozen times I'm going to begin with a Radawa because the girls like it and it's better fun than square dances now put on your gloves and go and ask Polly like a gentleman oh thunder muttered Tom and having split the detestive gloves and dragging them on he nerfed himself for the effort walked up to Polly made a stiff bow stuck out his elbow and said solemnly may I have the pleasure Miss Milton he did it as much like the big fellows as he could and expected that Polly would be impressed but she wasn't a bit for after a surprise look she laughed in his face and took him by the hand saying heartily of course you may but don't be a goose Tommy well fan told me to be elegant so I tried to whispered Tom adding as he clutched his partner with a somewhat desperate air hold on tight and we'll get through somehow the music struck up in a way they went Tom hopping one way and Polly the other in a most beautiful manner keep time to the music could gasp Polly can't never could return Tom keep step with me then and don't try to my toes pleaded Polly never mind keep bobbing and we'll come right by and by muttered Tom giving his unfortunate partner a sudden whisk which nearly landed both on the floor but they did not get right by and by for Tom in his frantic efforts to do his duty nearly annihilated poor Polly he tramped he bobbed he skated he twirled her to the right dragged her to the left backed her up against people and furniture trod on her feet rumpled her dress and made a spectacle of himself generally Polly was much disturbed but as everyone else was flying about also she bored as long as she could knowing that Tom had made a martyr of himself and feeling grateful to him for the sacrifice oh do stop now this is dreadful cred Polly breathlessly after a few wild turns isn't it said Tom wiping his red face with such an air of intense relief that Polly had not the heart to scold him but said thank you and dropped into a chair exhausted I know I've made a guy of myself but fan insisted on it for fear you'd be offended if I didn't go the first dance with you said Tom remorsefully watching Polly as she settled the bow for crushed sash which Tom had used as a sort of handle by which to turn and twist her I can do the Lancers tipped up but you won't ever want to dance with me anymore he added as he began to fan her so violently that her hair flew about as if in a gale of wind yes I will I'd like to and you shall put your name down here on the sticks of my fan that's the way trick says when you don't have a ball book looking much gratified Tom produced the stump of a lead pencil and wrote his name with a flourish saying as he gave it back now I'm going to get sherry or some of the fellows that do the reto a well so you can have a real good go before the music stops off went Tom but before he could catch any eligible partner Polly was provided with the best answer in the room Mr. Sydney had seen and heard the whole thing and though he had laughed quietly he liked honest Tom and good natured Polly all the better for their simplicity Polly's foot was keeping time to the lively music and her eyes were fixed wistfully on the smoothly gliding couples before her when Mr. Sydney came to her saying in the pleasant yet respectful way she liked so much Miss Polly can you give me a turn oh yes I'm dying for another and Polly jumped up with both hands out and such a grateful face that Mr. Sydney resolved she should have as many turns as she liked this time all went well and Tom returning from an unsuccessful search was amazed to behold Polly circling gracefully about the room guided by a most accomplished partner ah that's something like he thought as he watched the bronze boots retreating and advancing in perfect time to the music don't see how Sydney does the steering so well but it must be fun and by Jupiter I'll learn it added Shaw Jr. with an emphatic gesture which burst the last button off his gloves Polly enjoyed herself till the music stopped and before she had time to thank Mr. Sydney as warmly as she wished Tom came up to say with his most lordly air you dance splendidly Polly now you just show me anyone you like the looks of and I'll get him for you no matter who he is I don't want any of the gentlemen they are so stiff and don't care to dance with me but I like those boys over there and I'll dance with any of them if they are willing said Polly after a survey I'll trot out the whole lot and Tom gladly brought up his friends who all admired Polly immensely and were proud to be chosen instead of the big fellows there was no sitting still for Polly after that for the lads kept her going at a great pace and she was so happy she never saw or suspected how many little maneuvers, heart burnings displays of vanity, affectation and nonsense were going on all round her she loved dancing and entered into the gaiety of the scene with a heartiness that was pleasant to see her eyes shown her face glowed, her lips smiled and the brown curls waved in the air as she danced with a heart as light as her feet 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 Shaw said into the corner where he stood she is a regular bell among the boys said Fanny as she prominated 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 gentleman 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 trick says Papa I wish you'd come in waltz with me fan told me not to go near her cause my wed dress makes her pink one look ugly and Tom won't and I want to dwed fully I've forgotten how Marty asked Polly she'll spin you round like a T totem 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 mod 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 I which plainly showed that the change was a sacrifice not a bit gave the little dear 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 mod whirled away she will make a charming little woman if she isn't spoiled 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 pokey 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 in 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 recreational escort which was piled with good things following her guide Polly was taken to her closet opening from the dining room to the kitchen and here she found a jovial little party feasting at ease mod and her bosom friend, Grace were seated on ten cake boxes Sherry and Spider adorned the refrigerator while Tom and Rumpel forged for the party here's fun, said Polly as she was received with a 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 dumb waiter before her 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 Rumpel, you go and carry off a basket of cake and I'll watch here till Katie 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 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 Katie 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 a few voracious young gentlemen who still lingered among the ruins that's the way they always do poke the girls in corners give them 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. Sidney was dancing Tom and his friends were discussing baseball on the stairs and Modset 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 around to see what she could do sounds of strife in the library led her to enter Mod and the young ladies were sitting on the sofa talking about each other's clothes as they had seen their mommas 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 Mod's mine was made in New York said Miss Shaw smoothing her skirts complacently I can't dress much now you know cause mommas in black for somebody observed Miss Alice love it 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 Mod observed with a funny imitation of her father's manner my papa said it was scandalous for some of the little boys got tipsy and had to be took home he wouldn't let us have any wine and grandma said it was very improper for children to do so my mother says your mother's coupe isn't half so stylish as ours put in Alice yes it is too it's all lined with green silk and that's nicer than old wed cloth cried Mod 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 belligerence 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 men's bluff 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, coops 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 them it's lucky I'm going home tomorrow oh dear so you are what shall I do without my sweet pee as Sydney calls you sigh 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 Mod 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 would 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 taking 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 Maude 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 Katie waved her apron from the nursery window crying as they drove away the Saints bless you Miss Polly dear and send you the best of luck but the crowning joke of all was Tom's goodbye 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 goodbye Polly, goodbye, goodbye the last to do 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 End of Chapter 7