An Old-Fashioned Girl (16 page)

“It’s my opinion she is going to open a school, or something of that sort, to help those brothers of hers along,” said Mr.
Shaw, who had put down his paper at the sound of Polly’s name.

“Every one of you wrong, though papa comes nearest the truth,” cried Fanny; “she is going to give music lessons, and support
herself, so that Will may go to college. He is the studious one, and Polly is very proud of him. Ned, the other brother, has
a business talent, and don’t care for books, so he has gone out West, and will make his own way anywhere. Polly says she isn’t
needed at home now, the family is so small, and Kitty can take her place nicely; so she is actually going to earn her own
living, and hand over her share of the family income to Will. What a martyr that girl does make of herself,” and Fanny looked
as solemn as if Polly had proposed some awful self-sacrifice.

“She is a sensible, brave-hearted girl, and I respect her for doing it,” said Mr. Shaw, emphatically. “One never knows what
may happen, and it does no harm for young people to learn to be independent.”

“If she is as pretty as she was last time I saw her, she’ll get pupils fast enough. I wouldn’t mind taking lessons myself,”
was the gracious observation of Shaw, Jr., as he turned from the mirror, with the soothing certainty that his objectionable
hair actually
was
growing darker.

“She wouldn’t take you at any price,” said Fanny, remembering Polly’s look of disappointment and disapproval when she came
on her last visit and found him an unmistakable dandy.

“You just wait and see,” was the placid reply.

“If Polly does carry out her plan, I wish Maud to take lessons of her; Fanny can do as she likes, but it would please me very
much to have one of my girls sing as Polly sings. It suits old people better than your opera things, and mother used to enjoy
it so much.”

As he spoke, Mr. Shaw’s eye turned toward the corner of the fire where grandma used to sit. The easy-chair was empty now,
the kind old face was gone, and nothing but a very tender memory remained.

“I’d like to learn, papa, and Polly is a splendid teacher, I know; she’s always so patient, and makes everything so pleasant.
I do hope she will get scholars enough to begin right away,” said Maud.

“When is she coming?” asked Mrs. Shaw, quite willing to help Polly, but privately resolving that Maud should be finished off
by the most fashionable master in the city.

“She doesn’t say. She thanks me for asking her here, as usual, but says she shall go right to work, and had better begin with
her own little room at once. Won’t it seem strange to have Polly in town, and yet not with us?”

“We’ll get her somehow. The little room will cost something, and she can stay with us just as well as not, even if she does
teach. Tell her I say so,” said Mr. Shaw.

“She won’t come, I know; for if she undertakes to be independent, she’ll do it in the most thorough manner,” answered Fanny,
and Mrs. Shaw sincerely hoped she would. It was all very well to patronize the little music teacher, but it was not so pleasant
to have her settled in the family.

“I shall do what I can for her among my friends, and I dare say she will get on very well with young pupils to begin with.
If she starts right, puts her terms high enough, and gets a few good names to give her the
entrée
into our first families, I don’t doubt she will do nicely, for I must say Polly has the manners of a lady,” observed Mrs.
Shaw.

“She’s a mighty taking little body, and I’m glad she’s to be in town, though I’d like it better if she didn’t bother about
teaching, but just stayed here and enjoyed herself,” said Tom, lazily.

“I’ve no doubt she would feel highly honored to be allowed to devote her time to your amusement; but she can’t afford expensive
luxuries, and she don’t approve of flirting, so you will have to let her go her own way, and refresh herself with such glimpses
of you as her engagements permit,” answered Fanny, in the sarcastic tone which was becoming habitual to her.

“You are getting to be a regular old maid, Fan; as sharp as a lemon, and twice as sour,” returned Tom, looking down at her
with an air of calm superiority.

“Do be quiet, children; you know I can’t bear anything like contention. Maud, give me my Shetland shawl, and put a cushion
at my back.”

As Maud obeyed her mother, with a reproving look at her erring brother and sister, a pause followed, for which everyone seemed
grateful. They were sitting about the fire after dinner, and all looked as if a little sunshine would do them good. It had
been a dull November day, but all of a sudden the clouds lifted, and a bright ray shot into the room. Everyone turned involuntarily
to welcome it, and everyone cried out, “Why, Polly!” for there on the thresh-old stood a bright-faced girl, smiling as if
there was no such thing as November weather in the world.

“You dear thing, when did you come?” cried Fanny, kissing both the blooming cheeks with real affection, while the rest hovered
near, waiting for a chance.

“I came yesterday, and have been getting my nest in order; but I couldn’t keep away any longer, so I ran up to say ‘How do
you do?’” answered Polly, in the cheery voice that did one’s heart good to hear.

“My Polly always brings the sunshine with her,” and Mr. Shaw held out his hands to his little friend, for she was his favorite
still.

It was good to see her put both arms about his neck, and give him a tender kiss, that said a great deal, for grandma had died
since Polly met him last, and she longed to comfort him, seeing how gray and old he had grown.

If Tom had had any thoughts of following his father’s example, something in Polly’s manner made him change his mind, and shake
hands with a hearty “I’m very glad to see you, Polly,” adding to himself, as he looked at the face in the modest little bonnet:
“Prettier than ever, by Jove!”

There was something more than mere prettiness in Polly’s face, though Tom had not learned to see it yet. The blue eyes were
clear and steady, the fresh mouth frank and sweet, the white chin was a very firm one in spite of the dimple, and the smooth
forehead under the little curls had a broad, benevolent arch; while all about the face were those unmistakable lines and curves
which can make even a plain countenance comely, by breathing into it the beauty of a lovely character. Polly had grown up,
but she had no more style now than in the days of the round hat and rough coat, for she was all in gray, like a young Quakeress,
with no ornament but a blue bow at the throat and another in the hair. Yet the plain suit became her excellently, and one
never thought of the dress, looking at the active figure that wore it, for the freedom of her childhood gave to Polly that
good gift, health, and every movement was full of the vigor, grace, and ease, which nothing else can so surely bestow. A happy
soul in a healthy body is a rare sight in these days, when doctors flourish and everyone is ill, and this pleasant union was
the charm which Polly possessed without knowing it.

“It does seem
so
good to have you here again,” said Maud, cuddling Polly’s cold hand, as she sat at her feet, when she was fairly established
between Fanny and Mr. Shaw, while Tom leaned on the back of his mother’s chair, and enjoyed the prospect.

“How do you get on? When do you begin? Where is your nest? Now tell all about it,” began Fanny, who was full of curiosity
about the new plan.

“I shall get on very well, I think, for I’ve got twelve scholars to begin with, all able to pay a good price, and I shall
give my first lesson on Monday.”

“Don’t you dread it?” asked Fanny.

“Not much; why should I?” answered Polly, stoutly.

“Well, I don’t know; it’s a new thing, and must be a little bit hard at first,” stammered Fanny, not liking to say that working
for one’s living seemed a dreadful hardship to her.

“It will be tiresome, of course, but I shall get used to it; I shall like the exercise, and the new people and places I must
see will amuse me. Then the independence will be delightful, and if I can save a little to help Kitty along with, that will
be best of all.”

Polly’s face shone as if the prospect was full of pleasure instead of work, and the hearty goodwill with which she undertook
the new task, seemed to dignify her humble hopes and plans, and make them interesting in the sight of others.

“Who have you got for pupils?” asked Mrs. Shaw, forgetting her nerves for a minute.

Polly named her list, and took a secret satisfaction in seeing the impression which certain names made upon her hearers.

“How in the world did you get the Davenports and the Greys, my dear?” said Mrs. Shaw, sitting erect in her surprise.

“Mrs. Davenport and mother are relations, you know.”

“You never told us that before!”

“The Davenports have been away some years, and I forgot all about them. But when I was making my plan, I knew I must have
a good name or two to set me going, so I just wrote and asked Mrs. D. if she would help me. She came and saw us and was very
kind, and has got these pupils for me, like a dear, good woman as she is.”

“Where did you learn so much worldly wisdom Polly?” asked Mr. Shaw, as his wife fell back in her chair, and took out her salts,
as if this discovery had been too much for her.

“I learnt it here, sir,” answered Polly, laughing. “I used to think patronage and things of that sort very disagreeable and
not worth having, but I’ve got wiser, and to a certain extent I’m glad to use whatever advantages I have in my power, if they
can be honestly got.”

“Why didn’t you let us help you in the beginning? We should have been very glad to, I’m sure,” put in Mrs. Shaw, who quite
burned to be known as a joint patroness with Mrs. Davenport.

“I know you would, but you have all been so kind to me I didn’t want to trouble you with my little plans till the first steps
were taken. Besides, I didn’t know as you would like to recommend me as a teacher, though you like me well enough as plain
Polly.”

“My dear, of course I would, and we want you to take Maud at once, and teach her your sweet songs. She has a fine voice, and
is really suffering for a teacher.”

A slight smile passed over Polly’s face as she returned her thanks for the new pupil, for she remembered a time when Mrs.
Shaw considered her “sweet songs” quite unfit for a fashionable young lady’s
repertoire
.

“Where is your room?” asked Maud.

“My old friend Miss Mills has taken me in, and I am nicely settled. Mother didn’t like the idea of my going to a strange boardinghouse,
so Miss Mills kindly made a place for me. You know she lets her rooms without board, but she is going to give me my dinners,
and I’m to get my own breakfast and tea, quite independently. I like that way, and it’s very little trouble, my habits are
so simple; a bowl of bread and milk night and morning, with baked apples or something of that sort, is all I want, and I can
have it when I like.”

“Is your room comfortably furnished? Can’t we lend you anything, my dear? An easy-chair now, or a little couch, so necessary
when one comes in tired,” said Mrs. Shaw, taking unusual interest in the affair.

“Thank you, but I don’t need anything, for I brought all sorts of home comforts with me. Oh, Fan, you ought to have seen my
triumphal entry into the city, sitting among my goods and chattels, in a farmer’s cart.” Polly’s laugh was so infectious that
everyone smiled and forgot to be shocked at her performance. “Yes,” she added, “I kept wishing I could meet you, just to see
your horrified face when you saw me sitting on my little sofa, with boxes and bundles all round me, a birdcage on one side,
a fishing basket, with a kitten’s head popping in and out of the hole, on the other side, and jolly old Mr. Brown, in his
blue frock, perched on a keg of apples in front. It was a lovely bright day, and I enjoyed the ride immensely, for we had
all sorts of adventures.”

“Oh, tell about it,” begged Maud, when the general laugh at Polly’s picture had subsided.

“Well, in the first place, we forgot my ivy, and Kitty came running after me, with it. Then we started again, but were soon
stopped by a great shouting, and there was Will racing down the hill, waving a pillow in one hand and a squash pie in the
other. How we did laugh when he came up and explained that our neighbor, old Mrs. Dodd, had sent in a hop-pillow for me, in
case of headache, and a pie to begin housekeeping with. She seemed so disappointed at being too late that Will promised to
get them to me, if he ran all the way to town. The pillow was easily disposed of, but that pie! I do believe it was stowed
in every part of the wagon, and never stayed anywhere. I found it in my lap; then on the floor; next, upside down among the
books; then just on the point of coasting off a trunk into the road, and at last it landed in my rocking chair. Such a remarkable
pie as it was, too, for in spite of all its wanderings, it never got spilt or broken, and we finally ate it for lunch, in
order to be left in peace. Next, my kitty got away, and I had a chase over walls and brooks before I got her, while Mr. Brown
sat shaking with fun, to see me run. We finished off by having the bookshelves tumble on our heads as we went down a hill,
and losing my chair off behind, as we went up a hill. A shout made us pause, and, looking back, there was the poor little
chair rocking all by itself in the middle of the road, while a small boy sat on the fence and whooped. It was great fun, I
do assure you.”

Polly had run on in her lively way, not because she thought her adventures amounted to much, but from a wish to cheer up her
friends, who had struck her as looking rather dull and out of sorts, especially Mr. Shaw; and when she saw him lean back in
his chair with the old hearty laugh, she was satisfied, and blessed the unlucky pie for amusing him.

“Oh, Polly, you do tell such interesting things!” sighed Maud, wiping her eyes.

“I wish I’d met you, I’d have given you three cheers and a tiger, for it must have been an imposing spectacle,” said Tom.