CHAPTER IX. LESSONS
THE first few weeks were hard ones, for Polly had not yet outgrown hernatural shyness and going among so many strangers caused her frequentpanics. But her purpose gave her courage, and when the ice was oncebroken, her little pupils quickly learned to love her. The novelty soonwore off, and though she thought she was prepared for drudgery, shefound it very tedious to go on doing the same thing day after day. Thenshe was lonely, for Will could only come once a week, her leisure hourswere Fanny's busiest, and the "bits of pleasure" were so few and farbetween that they only tantalized her. Even her small housekeeping lostits charms, for Polly was a social creature, and the solitary meals wereoften sad ones. Ashputtel and Nick did their best to cheer her, butthey too, seemed to pine for country freedom and home atmosphere. PoorPuttel, after gazing wistfully out of the window at the gaunt city catsskulking about the yard, would retire to the rug, and curl herself up asif all hope of finding congenial society had failed; while little Nickwould sing till he vibrated on his perch, without receiving any responseexcept an inquisitive chirp from the pert sparrows, who seemed to twithim with his captivity. Yes, by the time the little teakettle had lostits brightness, Polly had decided that getting one's living was nojoke, and many of her brilliant hopes had shared the fate of the littlekettle.
If one could only make the sacrifice all at once, and done with it, thenit would seem easier; but to keep up a daily sacrifice of one's wishes,tastes, and pleasures, is rather a hard task, especially when one ispretty, young, and gay. Lessons all day, a highly instructive lecture,books over a solitary fire, or music with no audience but a sleepycat and a bird with his head tucked under his wing, for eveningentertainment, was not exactly what might be called festive; so,in spite of her brave resolutions, Polly did long for a little funsometimes, and after saying virtuously to herself at nine: "Yes, it ismuch wiser and better for me to go to bed early, and be ready for worktomorrow," she would lie awake hearing the carriages roll to and fro,and imagining the gay girls inside, going to party, opera, or play, tillMrs. Dodd's hop pillow might as well have been stuffed with nettles, forany sleep it brought, or any use it was, except to catch and hide thetears that dropped on it when Polly's heart was very full.
Another thorn that wounded our Polly in her first attempt to make herway through the thicket that always bars a woman's progress, was thediscovery that working for a living shuts a good many doors in one'sface even in democratic America. As Fanny's guest she had been, in spiteof poverty, kindly received wherever her friend took her, both as childand woman. Now, things were changed; the kindly people patronized, thecareless forgot all about her, and even Fanny, with all her affection,felt that Polly the music teacher would not be welcome in many placeswhere Polly the young lady had been accepted as "Miss Shaw's friend."
Some of the girls still nodded amiably, but never invited her to visitthem; others merely dropped their eyelids, and went by without speaking,while a good many ignored her as entirely as if she had been invisible.These things hurt Polly more than she would confess, for at home everyone worked, and every one was respected for it. She tried not to care,but girls feel little slights keenly, and more than once Polly wasseverely tempted to give up her plan, and run away to the safe shelterat home.
Fanny never failed to ask her to every sort of festivity in the Shawmansion; but after a few trials, Polly firmly declined everything butinformal visits when the family were alone. She soon found that eventhe new black silk was n't fine enough for Fanny's smallest party, and,after receiving a few of the expressive glances by which women conveytheir opinion of their neighbor's toilet, and overhearing a joke or two"about that inevitable dress," and "the little blackbird," Polly foldedaway the once treasured frock, saying, with a choke in her voice: "I'll wear it for Will, he likes it, and clothes can't change his love forme."
I am afraid the wholesome sweetness of Polly's nature was getting alittle soured by these troubles; but before lasting harm was done, shereceived, from an unexpected source, some of the real help which teachesyoung people how to bear these small crosses, by showing them theheavier ones they have escaped, and by giving them an idea of the higherpleasures one may earn in the good, old-fashioned ways that keep heartssweet, heads sane, hands busy.
Everybody has their days of misfortune like little Rosamond, and Pollywas beginning to think she had more than her share. One of these endedin a way which influenced her whole life, and so we will record it. Itbegan early; for the hard-hearted little grate would n't behave itselftill she had used up a ruinous quantity of kindlings. Then she scaldedpoor Puttel by upsetting her coffee-pot; and instead of a leisurely,cosy meal, had to hurry away uncomfortably, for everything went wrongeven to the coming off of both bonnet strings in the last dreadfulscramble. Being late, she of course forgot her music, and hurrying backfor it, fell into a puddle, which capped the climax of her despair.
Such a trying morning as that was! Polly felt out of tune herself, andall the pianos seemed to need a tuner as much as she did. The pupilswere unusually stupid, and two of them announced that their mamma wasgoing to take them to the South, whither she was suddenly called. Thiswas a blow, for they had just begun, and Polly had n't the face to sendin a bill for a whole quarter, though her plans and calculations weresadly disturbed by the failure of that sum.
Trudging home to dinner, tired and disappointed, poor Polly receivedanother blow, which hurt her more than the loss of all her pupils. Asshe went hurrying along with a big music book in one hand and a paperbag of rolls for tea in the other, she saw Tom and Trix coming. As shewatched them while they slowly approached, looking so gay and handsomeand happy, it seemed to Polly as if all the sunshine and good walkingwas on their side of the street, all the wintry wind and mud on hers.Longing to see a friendly face and receive a kind word, she crossedover, meaning to nod and smile at least. Trix saw her first, andsuddenly became absorbed in the distant horizon. Tom apparently did notsee her, for his eyes were fixed on a fine horse just prancing by.Polly thought that he had seen her, and approached with a curious littleflutter at her heart, for if Tom cut her she felt that her cup would befull.
On they came, Trix intent on the view, Tom staring at the handsomehorse, and Polly, with red checks, expectant eyes, and the brown bundle,in full sight. One dreadful minute as they came parallel, and no onespoke or bowed, then it was all over, and Polly went on, feeling as ifsome one had slapped her in the face. "She would n't have believed itof Tom; it was all the doings of that horrid Trix; well, she would n'ttrouble him any more, if he was such a snob as to be ashamed of her justbecause she carried bundles and worked for her bread." She clutched thepaper bag fiercely as she said this to herself, then her eyes filled,and her lips trembled, as she added, "How could he do it, before her,too?"
Now Tom was quite guiltless of this offence, and had always nodded toPolly when they met; but it so happened he had always been alone tillnow, and that was why it cut so deeply, especially as Polly never hadapproved of Trix. Before she could clear her eyes or steady her face,a gentleman met her, lifted his hat, smiled, and said pleasantly, "Goodmorning, Miss Polly, I'm glad to meet you." Then, with a sudden changeof voice and manner, he added, "I beg pardon is anything the matter canI be of service?"
It was very awkward, but it could n't be helped, and all Polly could dowas to tell the truth and make the best of it.
"It's very silly, but it hurts me to be cut by my old friends. I shallget used to it presently, I dare say."
Mr. Sydney glanced back, recognized the couple behind them, andturned round with a disgusted expression. Polly was fumbling for herhandkerchief, and without a word he took both book and bundle from her,a little bit of kindness that meant a good deal just then. Polly feltit, and it did her good; hastily wiping the traitorous eyes, she laughedand said cheerfully, "There, I'm all right again; thank you, don'ttrouble yourself with my parcels."
"No trouble, I assure you, and this book reminds me of what I was aboutto say. Have you an hour to spare for my
little niece? Her mother wantsher to begin, and desired me to make the inquiry."
"Did she, really?" and Polly looked up at him, as if she suspected himof inventing the whole thing, out of kindness.
Mr. Sydney smiled, and taking a note from his pocket, presented it,saying, with a reproachful look, "Behold the proof of my truth, andnever doubt again."
Polly begged pardon, read the note from the little girl's mother, whichwas to have been left at her room if she was absent, and gave thebearer a very grateful look as she accepted this welcome addition to herpupils. Well pleased at the success of his mission, Sydney artfully ledthe conversation to music, and for a time Polly forgot her woes, talkingenthusiastically on her favorite theme. As she reclaimed her book andbag, at her own door, she said, in her honest way, "Thank you very muchfor trying to make me forget my foolish little troubles."
"Then let me say one thing more; though appearances are against him,I don't believe Tom Shaw saw you. Miss Trix is equal to that sort ofthing, but it is n't like Tom, for with all his foppery he is a goodfellow at heart."
As Mr. Sydney said this, Polly held out her hand with a hearty "Thankyou for that." The young man shook the little hand in the gray woollenglove, gave her exactly the same bow which he did the Honorable Mrs.Davenport, and went away, leaving Polly to walk up stairs and addressPuttel with the peculiar remark, "You are a true gentleman! so kindto say that about Tom. I'll think it's so, anyway; and won't I teachMinnie in my very best style!"
Puttel purred, Nick chirped approvingly, and Polly ate her dinner witha better appetite than she had expected. But at the bottom of her heartthere was a sore spot still, and the afternoon lessons dragged dismally.It was dusk when she got home, and as she sat in the firelight eatingher bread and milk, several tears bedewed the little rolls, and even thehome honey had a bitter taste.
"Now this won't do," she broke out all at once; "this is silly andwicked, and can't be allowed. I'll try the old plan and put myselfright by doing some little kindness to somebody. Now what shall it be?O, I know! Fan is going to a party to-night; I'll run up and help herdress; she likes to have me, and I enjoy seeing the pretty things. Yes,and I'll take her two or three clusters of my daphne, it's so sweet."
Up got Polly, and taking her little posy, trotted away to the Shaws',determined to be happy and contented in spite of Trix and hard work.
She found Fanny enduring torment under the hands of the hair-dresser,who was doing his best to spoil her hair, and distort her head witha mass of curls, braids, frizzles, and puffs; for though I discreetlyrefrain from any particular description, still, judging from the presentfashions, I think one may venture to predict that six years hence theywould be something frightful.
"How kind of you, Polly; I was just wishing you were here to arrange myflowers. These lovely daphnes will give odor to my camellias, and youwere a dear to bring them. There's my dress; how do you like it?" saidFanny, hardly daring to lift her eyes from under the yellow tower on herhead.
"It's regularly splendid; but how do you ever get into it?" answeredPolly, surveying with girlish interest the cloud of pink and white lacethat lay upon the bed.
"It's fearfully and wonderfully made, but distractingly becoming, asyou shall see. Trix thinks I'm going to wear blue, so she has got agreen one, and told Belle it would spoil the effect of mine, as we aremuch together, of course. Was n't that sweet of her? Belle came and toldme in, time, and I just got pink, so my amiable sister, that is to be,won't succeed in her pretty little plot."
"I guess she has been reading the life of Josephine. You know she madea pretty lady, of whom she was jealous, sit beside her on a green sofa,which set off her own white dress and spoilt the blue one of her guest,"answered Polly, busy with the flowers.
"Trix never reads anything; you are the one to pick up clever littlestories. I'll remember and use this one. Am I done? Yes, that ischarming, is n't it, Polly?" and Fan rose to inspect the success ofMonsieur's long labor.
"You know I don't appreciate a stylish coiffure as I ought, so I likeyour hair in the old way best. But this is'the thing,' I suppose, andnot a word must be said."
"Of course it is. Why, child, I have frizzed and burnt my hair so that Ilook like an old maniac with it in its natural state, and have to repairdamages as well as I can. Now put the flowers just here," and Fanny laida pink camellia in a nest of fuzz, and stuck a spray of daphne straightup at the back of her head.
"O, Fan, don't, it looks horridly so!" cried Polly, longing to add alittle beauty to her friend's sallow face by a graceful adjustment ofthe flowers.
"Can't help it, that's the way, and so it must be," answered Fan,planting another sprig half-way up the tower.
Polly groaned and offered no more suggestions as the work went on; butwhen Fan was finished from top to toe, she admired all she honestlycould, and tried to keep her thoughts to herself. But her frank facebetrayed her, for Fanny turned on her suddenly, saying, "You may aswell free your mind, Polly, for I see by your eyes that something don'tsuit."
"I was only thinking of what grandma once said, that modesty had goneout of fashion," answered Polly, glancing at the waist of her friend'sdress, which consisted of a belt, a bit of lace, and a pair of shoulderstraps.
Fanny laughed good-naturedly, saying, as she clasped her necklace, "If Ihad such shoulders as yours, I should n't care what the fashion was. Nowdon't preach, but put my cloak on nicely, and come along, for I'm tomeet Tom and Trix, and promised to be there early."
Polly was to be left at home after depositing Fan at Belle's.
"I feel as if I was going myself," she said, as they rolled along.
"I wish you were, and you would be, Polly, if you weren't such aresolute thing. I've teased, and begged, and offered anything I have ifyou'll only break your absurd vow, and come and enjoy yourself."
"Thank you; but I won't, so don't trouble your kind heart about me; I'mall right," said Polly, stoutly.
But when they drew up before the lighted house, and she found herselfin the midst of the pleasant stir of festivity, the coming and going ofcarriages, the glimpses of bright colors, forms, and faces, the burstsof music, and a general atmosphere of gayety, Polly felt that she wasn't all right, and as she drove away for a dull evening in her lonelylittle room, she just cried as heartily as any child denied a stick ofcandy.
"It's dreadful wicked of me, but I can't help it," she sobbed toherself, in the corner of the carriage. "That music sets me all in atwitter, and I should have looked nice in Fan's blue tarlatan, andI know I could behave as well as any one, and have lots of partners,though I'm not in that set. Oh, just one good gallop with Mr. Sydney orTom! No, Tom would n't ask me there, and I would n't accept if he did.Oh, me! oh, me! I wish I was as old and homely, and good and happy, asMiss Mills!"
So Polly made her moan, and by the time she got home, was just in themood to go to bed and cry herself to sleep, as girls have a way of doingwhen their small affliction becomes unbearable.
But Polly did n't get a chance to be miserable very long, for as shewent up stairs feeling like the most injured girl in the world, shecaught a glimpse of Miss Mills, sewing away with such a bright face thatshe could n't resist stopping for a word or two.
"Sit down, my dear, I'm glad to see you, but excuse me if I go on withmy work, as I'm in a driving hurry to get these things done to-night,"said the brisk little lady, with a smile and a nod, as she took a newneedleful of thread, and ran up a seam as if for a wager.
"Let me help you, then; I'm lazy and cross, and it will do me good,"said Polly, sitting down with the resigned feeling. "Well, if I can't behappy, I can be useful, perhaps."
"Thank you, my dear; yes, you can just hem the skirt while I put in thesleeves, and that will be a great lift."
Polly put on her thimble in silence, but as Miss Mills spread the whiteflannel over her lap, she exclaimed, "Why, it looks like a shroud! Is itone?"
"No, dear, thank God, it is n't, but it might have been, if we had n'tsaved the poor little soul,
" cried Miss Mills, with a sudden brighteningof the face, which made it beautiful in spite of the stiff gray curlthat bobbed on each temple, the want of teeth, and a crooked nose.
"Will you tell me about it? I like to hear your adventures and goodworks so much," said Polly, ready to be amused by anything that made herforget herself.
"Ah, my dear, it's a very common story, and that's the saddest part ofit. I'll tell you all about it, for I think you may be able to help me.Last night I watched with poor Mary Floyd. She's dying of consumption,you know," began Miss Mills, as her nimble fingers flew, and her kindold face beamed over the work, as if she put a blessing in with everystitch. "Mary was very low, but about midnight fell asleep, and I wastrying to keep things quiet, when Mrs. Finn she's the woman of thehouse came and beckoned me out, with a scared face. 'Little Jane haskilled herself, and I don't know what to do,' she said, leading me up tothe attic."
"Who was little Jane?" broke in Polly, dropping her work.
"I only knew her as a pale, shy young girl who went in and out, andseldom spoke to any one. Mrs. Finn told me she was poor, but a busy,honest, little thing, who did n't mix with the other folks, but livedand worked alone. 'She has looked so down-hearted and pale for a week,that I thought she was sick, and asked her about it,' said Mrs. Finn,'but she thanked me in her bashful way, and said she was pretty well, soI let her alone. But to-night, as I went up late to bed, I was kind ofimpressed to look in and see how the poor thing did, for she had n'tleft her room all day. I did look in, and here's what I found.' As Mrs.Finn ended she opened the door of the back attic, and I saw about as sada sight as these old eyes ever looked at."
"O, what?" cried Polly, pale now with interest.
"A bare room, cold as a barn, and on the bed a little dead, white facethat almost broke my heart, it was so thin, so patient, and so young. Onthe table was a bottle half full of laudanum, an old pocket-book, and aletter. Read that, my dear and don't think hard of little Jane."
Polly took the bit of paper Miss Mills gave her, and read these words:
DEAR MRS. FINN, Please forgive me for the trouble I make you, but Idon't see any other way. I can't get work that pays enough to keep me;the Dr. says I can't be well unless I rest. I hate to be a burden, soI'm going away not to trouble anybody anymore. I've sold my things topay what I owe you. Please let me be as I am, and don't let people comeand look at me. I hope it is n't very wicked, but there don't seemany room for me in the world, and I'm not afraid to die now, thoughI should be if I stayed and got bad because I had n't strength to keepright. Give my love to the baby, and so good-by, good-by.
JANE BRYANT.
"O, Miss Mills, how dreadful!" cried Polly, with her eyes so full shecould hardly read the little letter.
"Not so dreadful as it might have been, but a bitter, sad thing tosee that child, only seventeen, lying there in her little clean, oldnight-gown, waiting for death to come and take her, because'there didn't seem to be any room for her in the world.' Ah, well, we saved her,for it was n't too late, thank heaven, and the first thing she said was,'Oh, why did you bring me back?' I've been nursing her all day, hearingher story, and trying to show her that there is room and a welcome forher. Her mother died a year ago, and since then she has been strugglingalong alone. She is one of the timid, innocent, humble creatures whocan't push their way, and so get put aside and forgotten. She hastried all sorts of poorly paid work, could n't live on it decently, gotdiscouraged, sick, frightened, and could see no refuge from the big, badworld but to get out of it while she was n't afraid to die. A very oldstory, my dear, new and dreadful as it seems to you, and I think itwon't do you any harm to see and help this little girl, who has gonethrough dark places that you are never like to know."
"I will; indeed, I will do all I can! Where is she now?" asked Polly,touched to the heart by the story, so simple yet so sad.
"There," and Miss Mills pointed to the door of her own little bedroom."She was well enough to be moved to-night, so I brought her home andlaid her safely in my bed. Poor little soul! she looked about her fora minute, then the lost look went away, and she gave a great sigh, andtook my hand in both her thin bits of ones, and said, 'O, ma'am, I feelas if I'd been born into a new world. Help me to begin again, and I'll do better.' So I told her she was my child now, and might rest here,sure of a home as long as I had one."
As Miss Mills spoke in her motherly tone, and cast a proud and happylook toward the warm and quiet nest in which she had sheltered thisfriendless little sparrow, feeling sure that God meant her to keep itfrom falling to the ground, Polly put both arms about her neck, andkissed her withered cheek with as much loving reverence as if she hadbeen a splendid saint, for in the likeness of this plain old maid shesaw the lovely charity that blesses and saves the world.
"How good you are! Dear Miss Mills, tell me what to do, let me help you,I'm ready for anything," said Polly, very humbly, for her own troubleslooked so small and foolish beside the stern hardships which had nearlyhad so tragical an end, that she felt heartily ashamed of herself, andquite burned to atone for them.
Miss, Mills stopped to stroke the fresh cheek opposite, to smile, andsay, "Then, Polly, I think I'll ask you to go in and say a friendlyword to my little girl. The sight of you will do her good; and you havejust the right way of comforting people, without making a fuss."
"Have I?" said Polly, looking much gratified by the words.
"Yes, dear, you've the gift of sympathy, and the rare art of showing itwithout offending. I would n't let many girls in to see my poor Jenny,because they'd only flutter and worry her; but you'll know what to do;so go, and take this wrapper with you; it's done now, thanks to yournimble fingers."
Polly threw the warm garment over her arm, feeling a thrill of gratitudethat it was to wrap a living girl in, and not to hide away a young heartthat had grown cold too soon. Pushing open the door, she went quietlyinto the dimly lighted room, and on the pillow saw a face that drew herto it with an irresistible power, for it was touched by a solemn shadowthat made its youth pathetic. As she paused at the bedside, thinking thegirl asleep, a pair of hollow, dark eyes opened wide, and looked up ather; startled at first, then softening with pleasure, at sight of thebonny face before them, and then a humble, beseeching expression filledthem, as if asking pardon for the rash act nearly committed, and pityfor the hard fate that prompted it. Polly read the language of theseeyes, and answered their mute prayer with a simple eloquence that saidmore than any words for she just stooped down and kissed the poor child,with her own eyes full, and lips that trembled with the sympathy shecould not tell. Jenny put both arms about her neck, and began to shedthe quiet tears that so refresh and comfort heavy hearts when a tendertouch unseals the fountain where they lie.
"Everybody is so kind," she sobbed, "and I was so wicked, I don'tdeserve it."
"Oh, yes, you do; don't think of that, but rest and let us pet you. Theold life was too hard for such a little thing as you, and we are goingto try and make the new one ever so much easier and happier," saidPolly, forgetting everything except that this was a girl like herself,who needed heartening up.
"Do you live here?" asked Jenny, when her tears were wiped away, stillclinging to the new-found friend.
"Yes, Miss Mills lets me have a little room up stairs, and there I havemy cat and bird, my piano and my posy pots, and live like a queen. Youmust come up and see me to-morrow if you are able. I'm often lonely,for there are no young people in the house to play with me," answeredPolly, smiling hospitably.
"Do you sew?" asked Jenny.
"No, I'm a music teacher, and trot round giving lessons all day."
"How beautiful it sounds, and how happy you must be, so strong andpretty, and able to go round making music all the time," sighed Jenny,looking with respectful admiration at the plump, firm hand held in bothher thin and feeble ones.
It did sound pleasant even to Polly's ears, and she felt suddenly sorich, and so contented, that she seemed a different creature from thesilly girl who cried becau
se she could n't go to the party. It passedthrough her mind like a flash, the contrast between her life, and thatof the wan creature lying before her, and she felt as if she could notgive enough out of her abundance to this needy little sister, who hadnothing in the wide world but the life just saved to her. That minutedid more for Polly than many sermons, or the wisest books, for itbrought her face to face with bitter truths, showed her the dark sideof life, and seemed to blow away her little vanities, her frivolousdesires, like a wintry wind, that left a wholesome atmosphere behind.Sitting on the bedside, Polly listened while Jane told the story, whichwas so new to her listener, that every word sank deep into her heart,and never was forgotten.
"Now you must go to sleep. Don't cry nor think, nor do anything butrest. That will please Miss Mills best. I'll leave the doors open, andplay you a lullaby that you can't resist. Good night, dear." And withanother kiss, Polly went away to sit in the darkness of her own room,playing her softest airs till the tired eyes below were shut, and littleJane seemed to float away on a sea of pleasant sounds, into the happierlife which had just dawned for her.
Polly had fully intended to be very miserable, and cry herself to sleep;but when she lay down at last, her pillow seemed very soft, her littleroom very lovely, with the firelight flickering on all the home-likeobjects, and her new-blown roses breathing her a sweet good-night. Sheno longer felt an injured, hard-working, unhappy Polly, but as if quiteburdened with blessings, for which she was n't half grateful enough. Shehad heard of poverty and suffering, in the vague, far-off way, which isall that many girls, safe in happy homes, ever know of it; but now shehad seen it, in a shape which she could feel and understand, and lifegrew more earnest to her from that minute. So much to do in the great,busy world, and she had done so little. Where should she begin?Then, like an answer came little Jenny's words, now taking a'newsignificance' to Polly's mind, "To be strong, and beautiful, and goround making music all the time." Yes, she could do that; and with avery earnest prayer, Polly asked for the strength of an upright soul,the beauty of a tender heart, the power to make her life a sweet andstirring song, helpful while it lasted, remembered when it died.
Little Jane's last thought had been to wish with all her might, that"God would bless the dear, kind girl up there, and give her all sheasked." I think both prayers, although too humble to be put in words,went up together, for in the fulness of time they were beautifullyanswered.