Part II Chapter 1 Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade
A COUPLE OF BARBARIANS
All the young Maybrights, with the exception of the baby, were collected in the morning-room. It was the middle of October. The summer heat had long departed, the trees were shedding their leaves fast, the sky had an appearance of coming wind and showers; the great stretch of moorland which could be seen best in winter when the oaks and elms were bare, was distinctly visible. The moor had broad shadows on it, also tracts of intense light; the bracken was changing from green to brown and yellow color—brilliant color was everywhere. At this time of year the moors in many ways looked their best.
The Maybright children, however, were not thinking of the landscape, or the fast approach of winter, they were busily engaged chattering and consulting together. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and they knew that the time left for them to prepare was short, consequently their busy fingers worked as well as their tongues. Helen was helping the twins and the little boys to make up a wreath of enormous dimensions, and Polly, as usual, was flitting about the room, followed by her satellite Firefly. As usual, too, Polly was first to remark and quickest to censure. She looked very much like the old Polly; no outward change was in the least visible, although now she yielded a kind of obedience to the most gentle and unexacting of sisters, and although she still vowed daily to herself, that she, Polly, would certainly climb the highest mountain, and for father’s sake would be the best of all his children.
“How slow you are, Nell,” she now exclaimed, impatiently; “and look what a crooked ‘E’ you have made to the end of ‘WELCOME.’ Oh, don’t be so slow, boys! Paul and Virginia will be here before we are half ready.”
“They can’t come before six o’clock,” said Helen. “We have two hours yet left to work in. Do, dear, pretty Polly, find something else to take up your time, and let the twins and the boys help me to finish this wreath.”
“Oh, if you don’t want me,” said Polly, in a slightly offended voice. “Come along, Fly, we’ll go up and see if Virginia’s room is ready, and then we’ll pay a visit to our baby. You and I won’t stay where we are not wanted. Come along.”
Fly trotted off by her elder sister’s side, a great light of contentment filling her big eyes. The two scampered upstairs, saw that a cozy nest was all ready for the Australian girl, while a smaller room at the other side of the passage was in equal readiness for the boy.
“Oh, what darling flowers!” said Firefly, running up to the dressing table in the principal bedroom, and sniffing at the contents of a dainty blue jar. “Why, Polly, these buds must be from your own pet tea-rose.”
“Yes,” said Polly, in a careless voice, “they are; I picked them for Virginia this morning. I’d do anything for Virginia. I’m greatly excited about her coming.”
“You never saw her,” said Firefly, in an aggrieved voice. “You wouldn’t give me your tea-roses. I don’t think it’s nice of you to be fonder of her than you are of me. And Nursie says her name isn’t Virginia.”
“Never mind, she’s Virginia to me, and the boy is Paul. Why, Fly, what a jealous little piece you are. Come here, and sit on my lap. Of course I’m fond of you, Fly, but I’m not excited about you. I know just the kind of nose you have, and the kind of mouth, and the kind of big, scarecrow eyes, but you see I don’t know anything at all about Virginia, so I’m making up stories about her, and pictures, all day long. I expect she’s something of a barbarian, both she and her brother, and isn’t it delicious to think of having two real live barbarians in the house?”
“Yes,” said Firefly, in a dubious voice. “I suppose if they are real barbarians, they won’t know a bit how to behave, and we’ll have to teach them. I’ll rather like that.”
“Oh, you’ll have to be awfully good, Fly, for they’ll copy you in every way; no sulking or sitting crooked, or having untidy hair, or you’ll have a couple of barbarians just doing the very same thing. Now, jump off my lap, I want to go to Nurse, and you may come with me as a great treat. I’m going to undress baby. I do it every night; and you may see how I manage. Nurse says I’m very clever about the way I manage babies.”
“Oh, you’re clever about everything,” said Fly, with a prolonged, deep-drawn breath. “Well, Polly, I do hope one thing.”
“Yes?”
“I do hope that the barbarians will be very, very ugly, for after you’ve seen them you won’t be curious any more, and after you know them there won’t be any stories to make up, and then you won’t love them better than me.”
“What a silly you are, Fly,” responded Polly.
But she gave her little sister’s hand an affectionate squeeze, which satisfied the hungry and exacting heart of its small owner for the present.
Meanwhile the enormous wreath progressed well, and presently took upon important position over the house doorway. As the daylight was getting dim, and as it would, in the estimation of the children, be the cruellest thing possible if the full glories of the wreath were not visible to the eyes of the strangers when they approached Sleepy Hollow, lamps were cunningly placed in positions where their full light could fall on the large “Welcome,” which was almost the unaided work of the twins and their small brothers.
But now six o’clock was drawing near, and Polly and Firefly joined the rest of the children in the hall. The whole house was in perfect order; an excellent supper would be ready at any moment, and there was little doubt that when the strangers did appear they would receive a most hearty welcome.
“Wheels at last!” said Bunny, turning a somersault in the air.
“Hurrah! Three cheers for the barbarians!” sang out Firefly.
“I do hope Virginia will be beautiful,” whispered Polly, under her breath.
Helen went and stood on the doorsteps. Polly suddenly raised a colored lamp, and waved it above her head.
“Welcome” smiled down from the enormous wreath, and shone on the features of each Maybright as the Doctor opened the door of the carriage, and helped a tall, slender girl, and a little boy in a black velvet suit, to get out.
“Our travelers are very hungry, Polly,” he said, “and—and—very tired. Yes, I see you have prepared things nicely for them. But first of all they must have supper, and after that I shall prescribe bed. Welcome, my dear children, to Sleepy Hollow! May it be a happy home to you both.”
“Thank you,” said the girl.
She had a pale face, a quantity of long light hair, and dreamy, sleepy eyes; the boy, on the contrary, had an alert and watchful expression; he clung to his sister, and looked in her face when she spoke.
“Do tell us what you are called,” said Polly. “We are all just dying to know. Oh! I trust, I do trust that you are really Paul and Virginia. How perfectly lovely it would be if those were your real names.”
The tall girl looked full into Polly’s eyes, a strange, sweet, wistful light filled her own, her words came out musically.
“I am Flower,” she said, “and this is David. I am thirteen years old, and David is eight. Father sent us away because after mother died there was no one to take care of us.”
A sigh of intense interest and sympathy fell from the lips of all the young Maybrights.
“Come upstairs, Flower; we know quite well how to be sorry for you,” said Helen.
She took the strange girl’s hand, and led her up the broad staircase.
“I’ll stay below,” said David. “I’m not the least tired, and my hands don’t want washing. Who’s the jolliest here? Couldn’t we have a game of ball? I haven’t played ball since I left Ballarat. Flower wouldn’t let me. She said I might when I came here. She spoke about coming here all the time, and she always wanted to see your mother. She cried the whole of last night because your mother was dead. Now has nobody got a ball, and won’t the jolliest begin?”
“I’ll play with you, David,” said Polly. “Now catch; there! once, twice, thrice. Aren’t you starving? I want my tea, if you don’t.”
“Flower said I wasn’t to ask for anything to eat now that your mother is dead,” responded David. “She said it wasn’t likely we’d stay, but that while we did I was to be on my good behavior. I hate being on my good behavior; but Flower’s an awful mistress. Yes, of course, I’m starving.”
“Well, come in to tea, then,” said Polly, laughing. “Perhaps you will stay, and anyhow we are glad to have you for a little. Children, please don’t stare so hard.”
“I don’t mind,” said David. “They may stare if it pleases them; I rather like it.”
“Like being stared at!” repeated Firefly, whose own sensitive little nature resented the most transient glance.
“Yes,” responded David, calmly; “it shows that I’m admired; and I know that I’m a very handsome boy.”
So he was, with dark eyes like a gipsy, and a splendid upright figure and bearing. Far from being the barbarian of Polly’s imagination, he had some of the airs and graces of a born aristocrat. His calm remarks and utter coolness astonished the little Maybrights, who rather shrank away from him, and left him altogether to Polly’s patronage.
At this moment Helen and the young Australian girl came down together. David instantly trotted up to his sister.
“She thinks that perhaps we’ll stay, Flower,” pointing with his finger at Polly, “and in that case I needn’t keep up my company manners, need I?”
“But you must behave well, David,” responded Flower, “or the English nation will fancy we are not civilized.”
She smiled in a lovely languid way at her brother, and looked round with calm indifference at the boys and girls who pressed close to her.
“Come and have tea,” said Helen.
She placed Flower at her right hand. The Doctor took the head of the table, and the meal progressed more or less in silence. Flower was too lazy or too delicate to eat much. David spent all his time in trying to make Firefly laugh, and in avoiding the Doctor’s penetrating glance. The Maybrights were too astonished at the appearance of their guests to feel thoroughly at ease. Polly had a sensation of things being somehow rather flat, and the Doctor wondered much in his inward soul how this new experiment would work.