Chapter III. Polly's Troubles

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter III. Polly's TroublesPolly soon found that she was in a new world, a world where themanners and customs were so different from the simple ways athome, that she felt like a stranger in a strange land, and oftenwished that she had not come. In the first place, she had nothing todo but lounge and gossip, read novels, parade the streets, anddress; and before a week was gone, she was as heartily sick of allthis, as a healthy person would be who attempted to live onconfectionery. Fanny liked it, because she was used to it, and hadnever known anything better; but Polly had, and often felt like alittle wood-bird shut up in a gilded cage. Nevertheless, she wasmuch impressed by the luxuries all about her, enjoyed them,wished she owned them, and wondered why the Shaws were not ahappier family. She was not wise enough to know where thetrouble lay; she did not attempt to say which of the two lives wasthe right one; she only knew which she liked best, and supposed itwas merely another of her "old-fashioned" ways.Fanny's friends did not interest her much; she was rather afraid ofthem, they seemed so much older and wiser than herself, eventhose younger in years. They talked about things of which sheknew nothing and when Fanny tried to explain, she did n't findthem interesting; indeed, some of them rather shocked and puzzledher; so the girls let her alone, being civil when they met, butevidently feeling that she was too "odd" to belong to their set.Then she turned to Maud for companionship, for her own littlesister was excellent company, and Polly loved her dearly. But MissMaud was much absorbed in her own affairs, for she belonged to a"set" also; and these mites of five and six had their "musicals,"their parties, receptions, and promenades, as well as their elders;and, the chief idea of their little lives seemed to be to ape thefashionable follies they should have been too innocent tounderstand. Maud had her tiny card-case, and paid calls, "likemamma and Fan"; her box of dainty gloves, her jewel-drawer, hercrimping-pins, as fine and fanciful a wardrobe as a Paris doll, anda French maid to dress her. Polly could n't get on with her at first,for Maud did n't seem like a child, and often corrected Polly in herconversation and manners, though little mademoiselle's own wereanything but perfect. Now and then, when Maud felt poorly, or hada "fwactious" turn, for she had "nerves" as well as mamma, shewould go to Polly to "be amoosed," for her gentle ways and kindforbearance soothed the little fine lady better than anything else.Polly enjoyed these times, and told stories, played games, or wentout walking, just as Maud liked, slowly and surely winning thechild's heart, and relieving the whole house of the young tyrantwho ruled it.Tom soon got over staring at Polly, and at first did not take muchnotice of her, for, in his opinion, "girls did n't amount to much,anyway"; and, considering, the style of girl he knew most about,Polly quite agreed with him. He occasionally refreshed himself byteasing her, to see how she'd stand it, and caused Polly muchanguish of spirit, for she never knew where he would take hernext. He bounced out at her from behind doors, booed at her indark entries, clutched her feet as she went up stairs, startled her byshrill whistles right in her ear, or sudden tweaks of the hair as hepassed her in the street; and as sure as there was company todinner, he fixed his round eyes on her, and never took them off tillshe was reduced to a piteous state of confusion and distress. Sheused to beg him not to plague her; but he said he did it for hergood; she was too shy, and needed toughening like the other girls.In vain she protested that she did n't want to be like the other girlsin that respect; he only laughed in her face, stuck his red hairstraight up all over his head, and glared at her, till she fled indismay.Yet Polly rather liked Tom, for she soon saw that he wasneglected, hustled out of the way, and left to get on pretty much byhimself. She often wondered why his mother did n't pet him as shedid the girls; why his father ordered him about as if he was a bornrebel, and took so little interest in his only son. Fanny consideredhim a bear, and was ashamed of him; but never tried to polish himup a bit; and Maud and he lived together like a cat and dog whodid not belong to a "happy family." Grandma was the only one whostood by poor old Tom; and Polly more than once discovered himdoing something kind for Madam, and seeming very muchashamed when it was found out. He was n't respectful at all; hecalled her "the old lady," and told her he "would n't be fussedover"; but when anything was the matter, he always went to "theold lady," and was very grateful for the "fussing." Polly liked himfor this, and often wanted to speak of it; but she had a feeling thatit would n't do, for in praising their affection, she was reproachingothers with neglect; so she held her tongue, and thought about it allthe more. Grandma was rather neglected, too, and perhaps that isthe reason why Tom and she were such good friends. She was evenmore old-fashioned than Polly; but people did n't seem to mind itso much in her, as her day was supposed to be over, and nothingwas expected of her but to keep out of everybody's way, and to behandsomely dressed when she appeared "before people." Grandmaled a quiet, solitary life in her own rooms, full of old furniture,pictures, books, and relics of a past for which no one cared butherself. Her son went up every evening for a little call, was verykind to her, and saw that she wanted nothing money could buy; buthe was a busy man, so intent on getting rich that he had no time toenjoy what he already possessed. Madam never complained,interfered, or suggested; but there was a sad sort of quietude abouther, a wistful look in her faded eyes, as if she wanted somethingwhich money could not buy, and when children were near, shehovered about them, evidently longing to cuddle and caress themas only grandmothers can. Polly felt this; and as she missed thehome-petting, gladly showed that she liked to see the quiet oldface brighten, as she entered the solitary room, where few childrencame, except the phantoms of little sons and daughters, who, to themotherly heart that loved them, never faded or grew up. Pollywished the children would be kinder to grandma; but it was not forher to tell them so, although it troubled her a good deal, and shecould only try to make up for it by being as dutiful and affectionateas if their grandma was her own.Another thing that disturbed Polly was the want of exercise. Todress up and parade certain streets for an hour every day, to standtalking in doorways, or drive out in a fine carriage, was not the sortof exercise she liked, and Fan would take no other. Indeed, shewas so shocked, when Polly, one day, proposed a run down themall, that her friend never dared suggest such a thing again. Athome, Polly ran and rode, coasted and skated, jumped rope andraked hay, worked in her garden and rowed her boat; so no wondershe longed for something more lively than a daily promenade witha flock of giddy girls, who tilted along in high-heeled boots, andcostumes which made Polly ashamed to be seen with some ofthem. So she used to slip out alone sometimes, when Fanny wasabsorbed in novels, company, or millinery, and get fine brisk walksround the park, on the unfashionable side, where the babies tooktheir airings; or she went inside, to watch the boys coasting, and towish she could coast too, as she did at home. She never went far,and always came back rosy and gay.One afternoon, just before dinner, she felt so tired of doingnothing, that she slipped out for a run. It had been a dull day; butthe sun was visible now, setting brightly below the clouds. It wascold but still and Polly trotted down the smooth, snow-coveredmall humming to herself, and trying not to feel homesick. Thecoasters were at it with all their might, and she watched them, tillher longing to join the fun grew irresistible. On the hill, some littlegirls were playing with their sleds, real little girls, in warm hoodsand coats, rubber boots and mittens, and Polly felt drawn towardthem in spite of her fear of Fan."I want to go down, but I dars n't, it's so steep," said one of these"common children," as Maud called them."If you'll lend me your sled, and sit in my lap, I'll take you downall nice," answered Polly, in a confidential tone.The little girls took a look at her, seemed satisfied, and acceptedher offer. Polly looked carefully round to see that no fashionableeye beheld the awful deed, and finding all safe, settled her freight,and spun away down hill, feeling all over the delightsomeexcitement of swift motion which makes coasting such a favoritepastime with the more sensible portion of the child-world. Oneafter another, she took the little girls down the hill and draggedthem up again, while they regarded her in the light of a gray-coatedangel, descended for their express benefit. Polly was just finishingoff with one delicious "go" all by herself, when she heard afamiliar whistle behind her, and before she could get off, up cameTom, looking as much astonished as if he had found her mounted,on an elephant."Hullo, Polly! What'll Fan say to you?" was his polishedsalutation."Don't know, and don't care. Coasting is no harm; I like it, and I'mgoing to do it, now I've got a chance; so clear the lul-la!" Andaway went independent Polly, with her hair blowing in the wind,and an expression of genuine enjoyment, which a very red nose didn't damage in the least."Good for you, Polly!" And casting himself upon his sled, with themost reckless disregard for his ribs, off whizzed Tom after her, andcame alongside just as she reined up "General Grant" on the broadpath below. "Oh, won't you get it when we go home?" cried theyoung gentleman, even before he changed his graceful attitude."I shan't, if you don't go and tell; but of course you will," addedPolly, sitting still, while an anxious expression began to steal overher happy face."I just won't, then," returned Tom, with the natural perversity of histribe."If they ask me, I shall tell, of course; if they don't ask, I thinkthere's no harm in keeping still. I should n't have done it, if I hadn't known my mother was willing; but I don't wish to trouble yourmother by telling of it. Do you think it was very dreadful of me?"asked Polly, looking at him."I think it was downright jolly; and I won't tell, if you don't wantme to. Now, come up and have another," said Tom, heartily."Just one more; the little girls want to go, this is their sled.""Let'em take it, it is n't good for much; and you come on mine.Mazeppa's a stunner; you see if he is n't."So Polly tucked herself up in front, Tom hung on behind in somemysterious manner, and Mazeppa proved that he fully merited hismaster's sincere if inelegant praise. They got on capitally now, forTom was in his proper sphere, and showed his best side, beingcivil and gay in the bluff boy-fashion that was natural to him;while Polly forgot to be shy, and liked this sort of "toughening"much better than the other. They laughed and talked, and kepttaking "just one more," till the sunshine was all gone, and theclocks struck dinner-time."We shall be late; let's run," said Polly, as they came into the pathafter the last coast."You just sit still, and I'll get you home in a jiffy;" and before shecould unpack herself, Tom trotted off with her at a fine pace."Here's a pair of cheeks! I wish you'd get a color like this, Fanny,"said Mr. Shaw, as Polly came into the dining-room after smoothingher hair."Your nose is as red as that cranberry sauce," answered Fan,coming out of the big chair where she had been curled up for anhour or two, deep in "Lady Audley's Secret.""So it is," said Polly, shutting one eye to look at the offendingfeature. "Never mind; I've had a good time, anyway," she added,giving a little prance in her chair."I don't see much fun in these cold runs you are so fond of taking,"said Fanny, with a yawn and a shiver."Perhaps you would if you tried it;" and Polly laughed as sheglanced at Tom."Did you go alone, dear?" asked grandma, patting the rosy cheekbeside her."Yes'm; but I met Tom, and we came home together." Polly's eyestwinkled when she said that, and Tom choked in his soup."Thomas, leave the table!" commanded Mr. Shaw, as hisincorrigible son gurgled and gasped behind his napkin."Please don't send him away, sir. I made him laugh," said Polly,penitently."What's the joke?" asked Fanny, waking up at last."I should n't think you'd make him laugh, when he's alwaysmaking you cwy," observed Maud, who had just come in."What have you been doing now, sir?" demanded Mr. Shaw, asTom emerged, red and solemn, from his brief obscurity."Nothing but coast," he said, gruffly, for papa was always lecturinghim, and letting the girls do just as they liked."So's Polly; I saw her. Me and Blanche were coming home justnow, and we saw her and Tom widing down the hill on his sled,and then he dwagged her ever so far!" cried Maud, with her mouthfull."You did n't?" and Fanny dropped her fork with a scandalized face."Yes, I did, and liked it ever so much," answered Polly, lookinganxious but resolute."Did any one see you?" cried Fanny."Only some little girls, and Tom.""It was horridly improper; and Tom ought to have told you so, ifyou did n't know any better. I should be mortified to death if any ofmy friends saw you," added Fan, much disturbed."Now, don't you scold. It's no harm, and Polly shall coast if shewants to; may n't she, grandma?" cried Tom, gallantly coming tothe rescue, and securing a powerful ally."My mother lets me; and if I don't go among the boys, I can't seewhat harm there is in it," said Polly, before Madam could speak."People do many things in the country that are not proper here,"began Mrs. Shaw, in her reproving tone."Let the child do it if she likes, and take Maud with her. I shouldbe glad to have one hearty girl in my house," interrupted Mr.Shaw, and that was the end of it."Thank you, sir," said Polly, gratefully, and nodded at Tom, whotelegraphed back "All right!" and fell upon his dinner with theappetite of a young wolf."Oh, you sly-boots! you're getting up a flirtation with Tom, areyou?" whispered Fanny to her friend, as if much amused."What!" and Polly looked so surprised and indignant, that Fannywas ashamed of herself, and changed the subject by telling hermother she needed some new gloves.Polly was very quiet after that, and the minute dinner was over, sheleft the room to go and have a quiet "think" about the wholematter. Before she got half-way up stairs, she saw Tom comingafter, and immediately sat down to guard her feet. He laughed, andsaid, as he perched himself on the post of the banisters, "I won'tgrab you, honor bright. I just wanted to say, if you'll come outto-morrow some time, we'll have a good coast.""No," said Polly, "I can't come.""Why not? Are you mad? I did n't tell." And Tom looked amazed atthe change which had come over her."No; you kept your word, and stood by me like a good boy. I'm notmad, either; but I don't mean to coast any more. Your mother don'tlike it.""That is n't the reason, I know. You nodded to me after she'd freedher mind, and you meant to go then. Come, now, what is it?""I shan't tell you; but I'm not going," was Polly's determinedanswer."Well, I did think you had more sense than most girls; but youhave n't, and I would n't give a sixpence for you.""That's polite," said Polly, getting ruffled."Well, I hate cowards.""I ain't a coward.""Yes, you are. You're afraid of what folks will say; ain't you,now?"Polly knew she was, and held her peace, though she longed tospeak; but how could she?"Ah, I knew you'd back out." And Tom walked away with an air ofscorn that cut Polly to the heart."It's too bad! Just as he was growing kind to me, and I was goingto have a good time, it's all spoilt by Fan's nonsense. Mrs. Shawdon't like it, nor grandma either, I dare say. There'll be a fuss if Igo, and Fan will plague me; so I'll give it up, and let Tom think I'm afraid. Oh, dear! I never did see such ridiculous people."Polly shut her door hard, and felt ready to cry with vexation, thather pleasure should be spoilt by such a silly idea; for, of all thesilly freaks of this fast age, that of little people playing at love isabout the silliest. Polly had been taught that it was a very seriousand sacred thing; and, according to her notions, it was far moreimproper to flirt with one boy than to coast with a dozen. She hadbeen much amazed, only the day before, to hear Maud say to hermother, "Mamma, must I have a beau? The girls all do, and say Iought to have Fweddy Lovell; but I don't like him as well as HawryFiske.""Oh, yes; I'd have a little sweetheart, dear, it's so cunning,"answered Mrs. Shaw. And Maud announced soon after that shewas engaged to "Fweddy,'cause Hawry slapped her" when sheproposed the match.Polly laughed with the rest at the time; but when she thought of itafterward, and wondered what her own mother would have said, iflittle Kitty had put such a question, she did n't find it cunning orfunny, but ridiculous and unnatural. She felt so now about herself;and when her first petulance was over, resolved to give up coastingand everything else, rather than have any nonsense with Tom, who,thanks to his neglected education, was as ignorant as herself of thecharms of this new amusement for school-children. So Polly triedto console herself by jumping rope in the back-yard, and playingtag with Maud in the drying-room, where she likewise gavelessons in "nas-gim-nics," as Maud called it, which did that littleperson good. Fanny came up sometimes to teach them a newdancing step, and more than once was betrayed into a game ofromps, for which she was none the worse. But Tom turned a coldshoulder to Polly, and made it evident, by his cavalier manner thathe really did n't think her "worth a sixpence."Another thing that troubled Polly was her clothes, for, though noone said anything, she knew they were very plain; and now andthen she wished that her blue and mouse colored merinos wererather more trimmed, her sashes had bigger bows, and her littleruffles more lace on them. She sighed for a locket, and, for thefirst time in her life, thought seriously of turning up her prettycurls and putting on a "wad." She kept these discontents to herself,however, after she had written to ask her mother if she might haveher best dress altered like Fanny's, and received this reply: "No,dear; the dress is proper and becoming as it is, and the old fashionof simplicity the best for all of us. I don't want my Polly to beloved for her clothes, but for herself; so wear the plain frocksmother took such pleasure in making for you, and let the panniersgo. The least of us have some influence in this big world; andperhaps my little girl can do some good by showing others that acontented heart and a happy face are better ornaments than anyParis can give her. You want a locket, deary; so I send one that mymother gave me years ago. You will find father's face on one side,mine on the other; and when things trouble you, just look at yourtalisman, and I think the sunshine will come back again."Of course it did, for the best of all magic was shut up in the quaintlittle case that Polly wore inside her frock, and kissed so tenderlyeach night and morning. The thought that, insignificant as she was,she yet might do some good, made her very careful of her acts andwords, and so anxious to keep head contented and face happy, thatshe forgot her clothes, and made others do the same. She did notknow it, but that good old fashion of simplicity made the plaingowns pretty, and the grace of unconsciousness beautified theirlittle wearer with the charm that makes girlhood sweetest to thosewho truly love and reverence it. One temptation Polly had alreadyyielded to before the letter came, and repented heartily ofafterward."Polly, I wish you'd let me call you Marie," said Fanny one day, asthey were shopping together."You may call me Mary, if you like; but I won't have any ie put onto my name. I'm Polly at home and I'm fond of being called so;but Marie is Frenchified and silly.""I spell my own name with an ie, and so do all the girls.""And what a jumble of Netties, Nellies, Hatties, and Sallies thereis. How'Pollie' would look spelt so!""Well, never mind; that was n't what I began to say. There's onething you must have, and that is, bronze boots," said Fan,impressively."Why must I, when I've got enough without?""Because it's the fashion to have them, and you can't be finishedoff properly without. I'm going to get a pair, and so must you.""Don't they cost a great deal?""Eight or nine dollars, I believe. I have mine charged; but it don'tmatter if you have n't got the money. I can lend you some.""I've got ten dollars to do what I like with; but it's meant to getsome presents for the children." And Polly took out her purse in anundecided way."You can make presents easy enough. Grandma knows all sorts ofnice contrivances. They'll do just as well; and then you can getyour boots.""Well; I'll look at them," said Polly, following Fanny into thestore, feeling rather rich and important to be shopping in thiselegant manner."Are n't they lovely? Your foot is perfectly divine in that boot,Polly. Get them for my party; you'll dance like a fairy," whisperedFan.Polly surveyed the dainty, shining boot with the scalloped top, thejaunty heel, and the delicate toe, thought her foot did look verywell in it, and after a little pause, said she would have them. It wasall very delightful till she got home, and was alone; then, onlooking into her purse, she saw one dollar and the list of things shemeant to get for mother and the children. How mean the dollarlooked all alone! and how long the list grew when there wasnothing to buy the articles."I can't make skates for Ned, nor a desk for Will; and those arewhat they have set their hearts upon. Father's book and mother'scollar are impossible now; and I'm a selfish thing to go and spendall my money for myself. How could I do it?" And Polly eyed thenew boots reproachfully, as they stood in the first position as ifready for the party. "They are lovely; but I don't believe they willfeel good, for I shall be thinking about my lost presents all thetime," sighed Polly, pushing the enticing boots out of sight. "I'll goand ask grandma what I can do; for if I've got to make somethingfor every one, I must begin right away, or I shan't get done;" andoff she bustled, glad to forget her remorse in hard work.Grandma proved equal to the emergency, and planned somethingfor every one, supplying materials, taste, and skill in the mostdelightful manner. Polly felt much comforted; but while she beganto knit a pretty pair of white bed-socks, to be tied withrose-colored ribbons, for her mother, she thought some very soberthoughts upon the subject of temptation; and if any one had askedher just then what made her sigh, as if something lay heavy on herconscience, she would have answered, "Bronze boots."