XI
POOR POLLY!
"You are very awkward, child," observed Mrs. Chatterton to Polly on herknees, "and abrupt. Move the sponge more slowly; there, that is better."
Polly shifted her position from one aching knee to another, set herlips closer together, and bent all her young energies to gentlereffects. But Mrs. Chatterton cried out irritably:
"Have you never taken care of a sick person, pray tell, or is it allyour back-country training that makes you so heavy-handed?"
"I helped mother take care of Phronsie when she had the measles, andBen and Joel," said Polly, "five years ago; we haven't been sicklately."
"Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Chatterton, not very elegantly. But what wasthe use of a fine manner when there was nobody but a littleback-country maiden to see it?
"I shall have to endure it till Hortense returns," she said with asigh; "besides, it is my duty to give you something useful to do inthis house. You should be thankful that I allow you to bathe me."
Polly's eyes flashed, and the hand holding the sponge trembled. Nothingbut the fear of troubling Mamsie, and dear old Mr. King whoseforbearance was worn to the finest of threads, kept her at her post.
"Now get the violet water," said Mrs. Chatterton, with an air she wouldnever have dared employ towards Hortense; "it is the bottle in thelower left-hand corner of the case."
Polly got up from her knees, and stiffly stumbled across the room tothe case of silver-mounted toilet articles: in her tumult bringing awaythe upper right-hand corner vial.
"Stupide!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton among her pillows. "Go back, anddo as I bid you, girl; the lower left-hand corner bottle!"
Without a word Polly returned, and bringing the right vial set aboutits use as directed, in a rapidly growing dismay at the evil feelingssurging through her, warning her it would not be safe to stay in theroom much longer.
"Do you understand," presently began Mrs. Chatterton, fastening hercold blue eyes upon her, "what your position is in this house?Everybody else appears to be blind and idiotic to the last degree; youseem to have a little quickness to catch an idea."
As Polly did not answer, the question was repeated very sharply: "Doyou understand what your position is in this house?"
"Yes," said Polly, in a low voice, and dashing out the violet waterwith a reckless hand, "I do."
"Take care," impatiently cried Mrs. Chatterton. Then she pushed herpillow into a better position, and returned to the charge.
"What is it, pray, since you understand it so well?"
"I understand that I am here in this house," said Polly, quite cold andwhite, "because dear Mr. King wants me to be here."
"DEAR Mr. King!" echoed Mrs. Chatterton, in shrill disdain. "Stuff andnonsense," and she put her head back for an unpleasant cackle; it couldhardly be called a laugh. "What an idiot the man is to have the woolpulled over his eyes in this fashion. I'll tell you, Polly"--and sheraised herself up on her elbow, the soft lace falling away from thewhite, and yet shapely arm. This member had been one of her strongestclaims to beauty, and even in her rage, Mrs. Chatterton paused a secondto glance complacently at it in its new position--"you are, when all issaid about your dear Mr. King, and your absurd assumption of equalitywith refined people who frequent this house, exactly the same underbredcountry girl as you were in your old brown house, goodness knowswherever that is."
"I'm glad I am," declared Polly. And she actually laughed merrily,while she squared her sturdy shoulders. Nothing could be sweeter thanto hear it said she was worthy of the dear little old brown house, anddidn't disgrace Mamsie's bringing up.
The laugh was the last feather that overthrew Mrs. Chatterton'srestraint. She was actually furious now that she, widow of AlgernonChatterton, who was own cousin to Jasper Horatio King, should be facedby such presumption, and her words put aside with girlish amusement.
"And I'll tell you more," she went on, sitting quite erect now on thebed, "your mother thinks she is doing a fine thing to get all herfamily wormed in here in this style, but she'll"--
Polly Pepper, the girlish gladness gone from heart and face, waited forno more. "OUR MOTHER!" she cried stormily, unable to utter anotherword--"oh--oh!" Her breath came in quick, short gasps, the hotindignant blood mounting to the brown waves of hair on her brow, whileshe clasped her hands so tightly together, the pain at any other timewould have made her scream.
Mrs. Chatterton, aghast at the effect of her words, leaned back oncemore against her pillows. "Don't try to work up a scene," sheendeavored to say carelessly. But she might as well have remonstratedwith the north wind. The little country maiden had a temper as well asher own, and all the more for its long restraint, now on breakingbounds, it rushed at the one who had provoked it, utterly regardlessthat it was the great Mrs. Algernon Chatterton.
For two minutes, so breathlessly did Polly hurl the stinging sentencesat the figure on the bed, Cousin Eunice was obliged to let her have herown way. Then as suddenly, the torrent ceased. Polly grew quite white."What have I done--oh! what have I done?" she cried, and rushed out ofthe room.
"Polly--Polly!" called Jasper's voice below. She knew he wanted her totry a new duet he had gone down town to purchase; but how could sheplay with such a storm in her heart? and, worse than all else, was theconsciousness that she had spoken to one whose gray hairs should havemade her forget the provocation received, words that now plunged herinto a hot shame to recall.
She flew over the stairs--up, away from every one's sight, to a long,dark lumber room, partially filled with trunks, and a few articles offurniture, prized as heirlooms, but no longer admissible in the familyapartments. Polly closed the door behind her, and sank down in theshadow of a packing box half filled with old pictures, in a distressthat would not even let her think. She covered her face with her hands,too angry with herself to cry; too aghast at the mischief she had done,to even remember the dreadful words Mrs. Chatterton had said to her.
"For of course, now she will complain to Mamsie, and I'm really afraidMr. King will find it out; and it only needs a little thing to make himsend her off. He said yesterday Dr. Valentine told him there wasnothing really the matter with her--and--dear! I don't know what willhappen."
To poor Polly, crouching there on the floor in the dim and dustycorner, it seemed as if her wretchedness held no hope. Turn whicheverway she might, the dreadful words she had uttered rang through herheart. They could not be unsaid; they were never to be forgotten butmust always stay and rankle there.
"Oh--oh!" she moaned, clasping her knees with distressed little palms,and swaying back and forth, "why didn't I remember what Mamsie hasalways told us--that no insult can do us harm if only we do not say ordo anything in return. Why--why couldn't I have remembered it?"
How long she stayed there she never knew. But at last, realizing thatevery moment there was only making matters worse, she dragged herselfup from the little heap on the floor, and trying to put a bit ofcheerfulness into a face she knew must frighten Mamsie, she went slowlyout, and down the stairs.
But no one looked long enough at her face to notice its change ofexpression. Polly, the moment she turned towards the household lifeagain, could feel that the air was charged with some intenseexcitement. Hortense met her on the lower stairs; the maid was startledout of her usual nonchalance, and was actually in a hurry.
"What is the matter?" cried Polly.
"Oh! the Madame is eel," said the maid; "the doctaire says it is not alie dees time," and she swept past Polly.
Polly clung to the stair-railing, her face whitening, and her gazefastened upon Mrs. Chatterton's door, where Hortense was nowdisappearing. Inside, was a sound of voices, and that subdued stir thatgives token of a sick room.
"I have killed her!" cried Polly's heart. For one wild moment she wasimpelled to flight; anywhere, she did not care where, to shake off bymotion in the free air this paralysis of fear. But the next she startedand, rushing down the stairs and into Mr. King's room, cried out, "Oh!dear Grandpapa, will Mrs. C
hatterton die?"
"No, no, I think not," replied the old gentleman, surprised at herfeeling. "Cousin Eunice never did show much self-control; but then, Idon't believe this piece of bad news will kill her."
"Bad news?" gasped Polly, hanging to the table where Mr. King waswriting letters. "Oh, Grandpapa! what do you mean?"
"Bless me! where have you been, Polly Pepper," said Mr. King, settlinghis eyeglass to regard her closely, "not to hear the uproar in thishouse? Yes, Mrs. Chatterton received a telegram a half-hour since thather nephew, the only one that she was very fond of among her relatives,was drowned at sea, and she has been perfectly prostrated by it, tillshe really is quite ill."
Polly waited to hear no more, but on the wings of the wind, flew outand up the stairs once more.
"Where have you been, Polly?" cried Jasper, coming out of a sidepassage in time to catch a dissolving view of her flying figure."Polly--Polly!" and he took three steps to her one, and gained her side.
"Oh! don't stop me," begged Polly, flying on, "don't, Jasper."
He took a good look at her face. "Anything I can help you about?" heasked quickly.
She suddenly stopped, her foot on the stair above. "Oh, Jasper!" shecried, with clasped hands, "you don't know--she may die, and I saidhorribly cruel things to her."
"Who--Mrs. Chatterton?" said the boy, opening his dark eyes; "why, youcouldn't have said cruel things to her, Polly. Don't be foolish,child." He spoke as he would to Phronsie's terror, and smiled into herface. But it did not reassure Polly.
"Jasper, you don't know; you can't guess what dreadful things I said,"cried poor overwhelmed Polly, clasping her hands tightly together atthe mere thought of the words she had uttered.
"Then she must have said dreadful things to you," said the boy.
"She--but, oh, Jasper! that doesn't make it any better for me," saidPolly. "Don't stop me; I am going to see if they won't let me dosomething for her."
"There are ever so many people up there now," said Jasper. "Yourmother, and Hortense, and two or three maids. What in the world couldyou do, Polly? Come down into the library, and tell us all about it."
But Polly broke away from him with an "Oh! I must do something forher," speeding on until she softly worked her way into the sick room.
Mrs. Pepper was busy with the doctor in the further part of the room,and Polly stood quite still for a moment, wishing she were one of themaids, to whom a bit of active service was given. She could not longerendure her thoughts in silence, and gently going up to her mother'sside, with a timorous glance at the bed, as she passed it, she begged,"Mamsie, can't I do something for her?"
Mrs. Pepper glanced up quickly. "No--yes, you can; take thisprescription down to Oakley's to be prepared."
Polly seized the bit of paper from Dr. Valentine's hand, and hurriedout. Again she glanced fearfully at the bed, but the curtain on thatside was drawn so that only the outline of the figure could be seen.She was soon out on the street, the movement through the fresh airbringing back a little color to her cheek and courage to her heart.Things did not seem quite so bad if she only might do something for thepoor sick woman that could atone for the wretched work she had done; atleast it would be some comfort if the invalid could be helped by herservice.
Thus revolving everything in her mind, Polly did not hear her namecalled, nor rapid footsteps hurrying after.
"Wait!" at last cried a voice; "O, dear me! what is the matter, Polly?"Alexia Rhys drew herself up flushed and panting at Polly's side.
"I'm on the way to the apothecary's," said Polly, without lookingaround.
"So I should suppose," said Alexia; "O, dear! I'm so hot and tired. Dogo a bit slower, Polly."
"I can't," said Polly. "She's very sick, and I must get this just assoon as I can." She waved the prescription at her, and redoubled herspeed.
"Who?" gasped Alexia, stumbling after as best she could.
"Mrs. Chatterton," said Polly, a lump in her throat as she uttered thename.
"O, dear me! that old thing," cried Alexia, her enthusiasm over theerrand gone.
"Hush!" said Polly hoarsely; "she may die. She has had bad news."
"What?" asked Alexia; the uncomfortable walk might be enlivened by abit of stray gossip; "what is it, Polly? What news?"
"A telegram," said Polly. "Her favorite nephew was drowned at sea."
"Oh! I didn't know she had any favorite nephew. Doesn't she fight witheverybody?"
"Do be quiet," begged Polly. "No; that is, perhaps, other people arenot kind to her."
"Oh!" said Alexia, in a surprised voice. "Well, I think she's perfectlyand all-through-and-through horrid, so! Don't race like this throughthe streets, Polly. You'll get there soon enough."
But Polly turned a deaf ear, and at last the prescription was handedover the counter at Oakley's, and after what seemed an endless time toPolly, the medicine was given to her.
"Now as soon as you carry that thing home," observed Alexia, glancingat the white parcel in Polly's hand, "I hope you'll come with us girls.That's what I ran after you for."
"What girls?" asked Polly.
"Why, Philena and the Cornwalls; we are going to have a sleighing partyto-night, and a supper at Lilly Drexell's. Mrs. Cornwall chaperones thething."
Polly was surprised to feel her heart bound. It hadn't seemed as if itcould ever be moved by any news of girlish frolics, but that its dullache must go on forever.
"Oh! I can't," she cried the next moment. "I must stay at home, andhelp take care of Mrs. Chatterton."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Alexia in a provoked tone; "you are not wantedthere, Polly Pepper; the idea, with that great house full of servants."
"Well, I shall not go," declared Polly sharply; "you needn't ask me,Alexia. I shall stay home till she gets well."
"You little idiot!" cried Alexia, thoroughly out of temper. But as thisproduced no effect on Polly, she began to wheedle and coax. "Now,Polly, do be reasonable. You know we can't go without you; you wouldn'tspoil the whole thing; you know you wouldn't. I shall just tell theCornwalls that you are coming," and she turned off to the corner of theavenue.
"Indeed you will not," called Polly after her. "Don't you dare do that,Alexia Rhys," she said, with flashing eyes.
"You are the most uncomfortable girl I ever saw," cried Alexia,stopping, to come slowly back. "You spoil every bit of fun with yourabsurd notions. I'm quite, quite put out with you, Polly."
"I'm sorry," said poor Polly, fairly longing for the snow-revel, anddismayed at disappointing the girls.
"No, you're not," pouted Alexia, "and I shall tell them all so," andshe broke away and ran off in the opposite direction.
Polly was met at the door by Mrs. Pepper, who grasped the packet ofmedicine quickly.
"Isn't there anything else I can do, Mamsie?" begged Polly.
"No; sit down and rest; you're hot and tired, you've run so."
"I'm not tired," said Polly, not daring to ask "Is she better?"
"Well, you must be," said Mrs. Pepper, hurrying off, "going all the waydown to Oakley's."
So Polly had nothing to do but to sit out in the hall, and listen andwatch all the movements in the sick room, every one of which butincreased her terror. At least she could bear it no longer, and as Dr.Valentine came out, putting on his gloves, she rushed after him.
"Oh! will she die?" she begged; "please do tell me, sir?"
"Die? no indeed, I hope not," said Dr. Valentine. "She has had a severeshock to her nerves and her age is against her, but she is comingaround all right, I trust. Why, Polly, I thought better things of you,my girl." He glanced down into the distressed face with professionaldisfavor.
"I'm so glad she won't die," breathed Polly, wholly lost to his opinionof her; and her face gleamed with something of her old brightness.
"I didn't know you were so fond of her," observed Dr. Valentine grimly;"indeed, to speak truthfully, I have yet to learn that anybody is fondof her, Polly."
"Now if you really want to help her," h
e continued thoughtfully,pulling his beard, as Polly did not answer, "I can give you one or twohints that might be of use."
"Oh! I do, I do," cried Polly with eagerness.
"It will be tiresome work," said Dr. Valentine, "but it will be a pieceof real charity, and perhaps, Polly, it's as well for you to begin nowas to wait till you can belong to forty charity clubs, and spend yourtime going to committee meetings." And he laughed not altogetherpleasantly. How was Polly to know that Mrs. Valentine was immersed upto her ears in a philanthropic sea with the smallest possible thoughtfor the doctor's home? "Now that maid," said the physician, droppinghis tone to a confidential one, "is as well as the average, but she'snot the one who is to amuse the old lady. It's that she needs more thanmedicine, Polly. She actually requires diversion."
Poor Polly stood as if turned to stone. Diversion! And she had thrownaway all chance of that.
"She is suffering for the companionship of some bright young nature,"Dr. Valentine proceeded, attributing the dismay written all over thegirl's face to natural unwillingness to do the service. "After she getsover this attack she needs to be read to for one thing; to be told thenews; to be made to forget herself. But of course, Polly," he saidhastily, buttoning his top coat, and opening the outer door, "it's toomuch to ask of you; so think no more about it, child."