Chapter IX. Lessons

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter IX. LessonsThe first few weeks were hard ones, for Polly had not yetoutgrown her natural shyness and going among so many strangerscaused her frequent panics. But her purpose gave her courage, andwhen the ice was once broken, her little pupils quickly learned tolove her. The novelty soon wore off, and though she thought shewas prepared for drudgery, she found it very tedious to go on doingthe same thing day after day. Then she was lonely, for Will couldonly come once a week, her leisure hours were Fanny's busiest, andthe "bits of pleasure" were so few and far between that they onlytantalized her. Even her small housekeeping lost its charms, forPolly was a social creature, and the solitary meals were often sadones. Ashputtel and Nick did their best to cheer her, but they too,seemed to pine for country freedom and home atmosphere. PoorPuttel, after gazing wistfully out of the window at the gaunt citycats skulking about the yard, would retire to the rug, and curlherself up as if all hope of finding congenial society had failed;while little Nick would sing till he vibrated on his perch, withoutreceiving any response except an inquisitive chirp from the pertsparrows, who seemed to twit him with his captivity. Yes, by thetime the little teakettle had lost its brightness, Polly had decidedthat getting one's living was no joke, and many of her brillianthopes had shared the fate of the little kettle.If one could only make the sacrifice all at once, and done with it,then it would seem easier; but to keep up a daily sacrifice of one'swishes, tastes, and pleasures, is rather a hard task, especially whenone is pretty, young, and gay. Lessons all day, a highly instructivelecture, books over a solitary fire, or music with no audience but asleepy cat and a bird with his head tucked under his wing, forevening entertainment, was not exactly what might be calledfestive; so, in spite of her brave resolutions, Polly did long for alittle fun sometimes, and after saying virtuously to herself at nine:"Yes, it is much wiser and better for me to go to bed early, and beready for work tomorrow," she would lie awake hearing thecarriages roll to and fro, and imagining the gay girls inside, goingto party, opera, or play, till Mrs. Dodd's hop pillow might as wellhave been stuffed with nettles, for any sleep it brought, or any useit was, except to catch and hide the tears that dropped on it whenPolly's heart was very full.Another thorn that wounded our Polly in her first attempt to makeher way through the thicket that always bars a woman's progress,was the discovery that working for a living shuts a good manydoors in one's face even in democratic America. As Fanny's guestshe had been, in spite of poverty, kindly received wherever herfriend took her, both as child and woman. Now, things werechanged; the kindly people patronized, the careless forgot all abouther, and even Fanny, with all her affection, felt that Polly themusic teacher would not be welcome in many places where Pollythe young lady had been accepted as "Miss Shaw's friend."Some of the girls still nodded amiably, but never invited her tovisit them; others merely dropped their eyelids, and went bywithout speaking, while a good many ignored her as entirely as ifshe had been invisible. These things hurt Polly more than shewould confess, for at home every one worked, and every one wasrespected for it. She tried not to care, but girls feel little slightskeenly, and more than once Polly was severely tempted to give upher plan, and run away to the safe shelter at home.Fanny never failed to ask her to every sort of festivity in the Shawmansion; but after a few trials, Polly firmly declined everythingbut informal visits when the family were alone. She soon foundthat even the new black silk was n't fine enough for Fanny'ssmallest party, and, after receiving a few of the expressive glancesby which women convey their opinion of their neighbor's toilet,and overhearing a joke or two "about that inevitable dress," and"the little blackbird," Polly folded away 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 for me."I am afraid the wholesome sweetness of Polly's nature was gettinga little soured by these troubles; but before lasting harm was done,she received, from an unexpected source, some of the real helpwhich teaches young people how to bear these small crosses, byshowing them the heavier ones they have escaped, and by givingthem an idea of the higher pleasures one may earn in the good,old-fashioned ways that keep hearts sweet, heads sane, hands busy.Everybody has their days of misfortune like little Rosamond, andPolly was beginning to think she had more than her share. One ofthese ended in a way which influenced her whole life, and so wewill record it. It began early; for the hard-hearted little grate wouldn't behave itself till she had used up a ruinous quantity ofkindlings. Then she scalded poor Puttel by upsetting hercoffee-pot; and instead of a leisurely, cosy meal, had to hurry awayuncomfortably, for everything went wrong even to the coming offof both bonnet strings in the last dreadful scramble. Being late, sheof course forgot her music, and hurrying back for it, fell into apuddle, which capped the climax of her despair.Such a trying morning as that was! Polly felt out of tune herself,and all the pianos seemed to need a tuner as much as she did. Thepupils were unusually stupid, and two of them announced thattheir mamma was going to take them to the South, whither she wassuddenly called. This was a blow, for they had just begun, andPolly had n't the face to send in a bill for a whole quarter, thoughher plans and calculations were sadly disturbed by the failure ofthat sum.Trudging home to dinner, tired and disappointed, poor Pollyreceived another blow, which hurt her more than the loss of all herpupils. As she went hurrying along with a big music book in onehand and a paper bag of rolls for tea in the other, she saw Tom andTrix coming. As she watched them while they slowly approached,looking so gay and handsome and happy, it seemed to Polly as ifall the sunshine and good walking was on their side of the street,all the wintry wind and mud on hers. Longing to see a friendly faceand receive a kind word, she crossed over, meaning to nod andsmile at least. Trix saw her first, and suddenly became absorbed inthe distant horizon. Tom apparently did not see her, for his eyeswere fixed on a fine horse just prancing by. Polly thought that hehad seen her, and approached with a curious little flutter at herheart, for if Tom cut her she felt that her cup would be full.On they came, Trix intent on the view, Tom staring at thehandsome horse, and Polly, with red checks, expectant eyes, andthe brown bundle, in full sight. One dreadful minute as they cameparallel, and no one spoke or bowed, then it was all over, and Pollywent on, feeling as if some one had slapped her in the face. "Shewould n't have believed it of Tom; it was all the doings of thathorrid Trix; well, she would n't trouble him any more, if he wassuch a snob as to be ashamed of her just because she carriedbundles and worked for her bread." She clutched the paper bagfiercely as she said this to herself, then her eyes filled, and her lipstrembled, as she added, "How could he do it, before her, too?"Now Tom was quite guiltless of this offence, and had alwaysnodded to Polly when they met; but it so happened he had alwaysbeen alone till now, and that was why it cut so deeply, especiallyas Polly never had approved of Trix. Before she could clear hereyes or steady her face, a gentleman met her, lifted his hat, smiled,and said pleasantly, "Good morning, Miss Polly, I'm glad to meetyou." Then, with a sudden change of voice and manner, he added,"I beg pardon is anything the matter can I be of service?"It was very awkward, but it could n't be helped, and all Polly coulddo was 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 forher handkerchief, and without a word he took both book andbundle from her, a little bit of kindness that meant a good deal justthen. Polly felt it, and it did her good; hastily wiping the traitorouseyes, she laughed and said cheerfully, "There, I'm all right again;thank you, don't trouble yourself with my parcels.""No trouble, I assure you, and this book reminds me of what I wasabout to say. Have you an hour to spare for my little niece? Hermother wants her to begin, and desired me to make the inquiry.""Did she, really?" and Polly looked up at him, as if she suspectedhim of 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,which was to have been left at her room if she was absent, andgave the bearer a very grateful look as she accepted this welcomeaddition to her pupils. Well pleased at the success of his mission,Sydney artfully led the conversation to music, and for a time Pollyforgot her woes, talking enthusiastically on her favorite theme. Asshe reclaimed her book and bag, at her own door, she said, in herhonest way, "Thank you very much for trying to make me forgetmy foolish little troubles.""Then let me say one thing more; though appearances are againsthim, I don't believe Tom Shaw saw you. Miss Trix is equal to thatsort of thing, but it is n't like Tom, for with all his foppery he is agood fellow at heart."As Mr. Sydney said this, Polly held out her hand with a hearty"Thank you for that." The young man shook the little hand in thegray woollen glove, gave her exactly the same bow which he didthe Honorable Mrs. Davenport, and went away, leaving Polly towalk up stairs and address Puttel with the peculiar remark, "Youare a true gentleman! so kind to say that about Tom. I'll think it'sso, anyway; and won't I teach Minnie in my very best style!"Puttel purred, Nick chirped approvingly, and Polly ate her dinnerwith a better appetite than she had expected. But at the bottom ofher heart there was a sore spot still, and the afternoon lessonsdragged dismally. It was dusk when she got home, and as she sat inthe firelight eating her bread and milk, several tears bedewed thelittle rolls, and even the home 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 itbe? O, I know! Fan is going to a party to-night; I'll run up and helpher dress; she likes to have me, and I enjoy seeing the prettythings. 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 hardwork.She found Fanny enduring torment under the hands of thehair-dresser, who was doing his best to spoil her hair, and distorther head with a mass of curls, braids, frizzles, and puffs; forthough I discreetly refrain from any particular description, still,judging from the present fashions, I think one may venture topredict that six years hence they would be something frightful."How kind of you, Polly; I was just wishing you were here toarrange my flowers. These lovely daphnes will give odor to mycamellias, and you were a dear to bring them. There's my dress;how do you like it?" said Fanny, hardly daring to lift her eyes fromunder the yellow tower on her head."It's regularly splendid; but how do you ever get into it?" answeredPolly, surveying with girlish interest the cloud of pink and whitelace that lay upon the bed."It's fearfully and wonderfully made, but distractingly becoming,as you shall see. Trix thinks I'm going to wear blue, so she has gota green one, and told Belle it would spoil the effect of mine, as weare much together, of course. Was n't that sweet of her? Bellecame and told me in, time, and I just got pink, so my amiablesister, that is to be, won't succeed in her pretty little plot.""I guess she has been reading the life of Josephine. You know shemade a pretty lady, of whom she was jealous, sit beside her on agreen sofa, which set off her own white dress and spoilt the blueone 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 sothat I look like an old maniac with it in its natural state, and haveto repair damages as well as I can. Now put the flowers just here,"and Fanny laid a pink camellia in a nest of fuzz, and stuck a sprayof daphne straight up 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 wenton; but when Fan was finished from top to toe, she admired all shehonestly could, and tried to keep her thoughts to herself. But herfrank face betrayed her, for Fanny turned on her suddenly, saying,"You may as well free your mind, Polly, for I see by your eyes thatsomething don't suit.""I was only thinking of what grandma once said, that modesty hadgone out of fashion," answered Polly, glancing at the waist of herfriend's dress, which consisted of a belt, a bit of lace, and a pair ofshoulder straps.Fanny laughed good-naturedly, saying, as she clasped her necklace,"If I had such shoulders as yours, I should n't care what the fashionwas. Now don't preach, but put my cloak on nicely, and comealong, for I'm to meet Tom and Trix, and promised to be thereearly."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 Ihave if you'll only break your absurd vow, and come and enjoyyourself.""Thank you; but I won't, so don't trouble your kind heart about me;I'm all right," said Polly, stoutly.But when they drew up before the lighted house, and she foundherself in the midst of the pleasant stir of festivity, the coming andgoing of carriages, the glimpses of bright colors, forms, and faces,the bursts of music, and a general atmosphere of gayety, Polly feltthat she was n't all right, and as she drove away for a dull eveningin her lonely little room, she just cried as heartily as any childdenied a stick of candy."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, and Iknow 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 or Tom! No, Tom would n't ask me there, and I would n'taccept if he did. Oh, me! oh, me! I wish I was as old and homely,and good and happy, as Miss Mills!"So Polly made her moan, and by the time she got home, was just inthe mood to go to bed and cry herself to sleep, as girls have a wayof doing when 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 brightface that she 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 onwith my work, as I'm in a driving hurry to get these things doneto-night," said the brisk little lady, with a smile and a nod, as shetook a new needleful of thread, and ran up a seam as if for awager."Let me help you, then; I'm lazy and cross, and it will do megood," said Polly, sitting down with the resigned feeling. "Well, ifI can't be happy, I can be useful, perhaps.""Thank you, my dear; yes, you can just hem the skirt while I put inthe sleeves, and that will be a great lift."Polly put on her thimble in silence, but as Miss Mills spread thewhite flannel over her lap, she exclaimed, "Why, it looks like ashroud! Is it one?""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 suddenbrightening of the face, which made it beautiful in spite of the stiffgray curl that bobbed on each temple, the want of teeth, and acrooked 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 thatmade her forget herself."Ah, my dear, it's a very common story, and that's the saddest partof it. I'll tell you all about it, for I think you may be able to helpme. Last night I watched with poor Mary Floyd. She's dying ofconsumption, you know," began Miss Mills, as her nimble fingersflew, and her kind old face beamed over the work, as if she put ablessing in with every stitch. "Mary was very low, but aboutmidnight fell asleep, and I was trying to keep things quiet, whenMrs. Finn she's the woman of the house came and beckoned meout, with a scared face.'Little Jane has killed herself, and I don'tknow what to do,' she said, leading me up to the 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 abusy, honest, little thing, who did n't mix with the other folks, butlived and worked alone.'She has looked so down-hearted and palefor a week, that I thought she was sick, and asked her about it,' saidMrs. Finn,'but she thanked me in her bashful way, and said shewas pretty well, so I let her alone. But to-night, as I went up late tobed, I was kind of impressed to look in and see how the poor thingdid, for she had n't left her room all day. I did look in, and here'swhat I found.' As Mrs. Finn ended she opened the door of the backattic, and I saw about as sad a sight as these old eyes ever lookedat.""O, what?" cried Polly, pale now with interest."A bare room, cold as a barn, and on the bed a little dead, whiteface that almost broke my heart, it was so thin, so patient, and soyoung. On the table was a bottle half full of laudanum, an oldpocket-book, and a letter. Read that, my dear and don't think hardof little Jane."Polly took the bit of paper Miss Mills gave her, and read thesewords:DEAR MRS. FINN, Please forgive me for the trouble I make you,but I don't see any other way. I can't get work that pays enough tokeep me; the Dr. says I can't be well unless I rest. I hate to be aburden, so I'm going away not to trouble anybody anymore. I'vesold my things to pay what I owe you. Please let me be as I am,and don't let people come and look at me. I hope it is n't verywicked, but there don't seem any room for me in the world, and I'm not afraid to die now, though I should be if I stayed and got badbecause I had n't strength to keep right. 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 fullshe could hardly read the little letter."Not so dreadful as it might have been, but a bitter, sad thing to seethat child, only seventeen, lying there in her little clean, oldnight-gown, waiting for death to come and take her, because'theredid n't seem to be any room for her in the world.' Ah, well, wesaved her, for it was n't too late, thank heaven, and the first thingshe said was,'Oh, why did you bring me back?' I've been nursingher all day, hearing her story, and trying to show her that there isroom and a welcome for her. Her mother died a year ago, andsince then she has been struggling along alone. She is one of thetimid, innocent, humble creatures who can't push their way, and soget put aside and forgotten. She has tried all sorts of poorly paidwork, could n't live on it decently, got discouraged, sick,frightened, and could see no refuge from the big, bad world but toget out of it while she was n't afraid to die. A very old story, mydear, new and dreadful as it seems to you, and I think it won't doyou any harm to see and help this little girl, who has gone throughdark 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 littlebedroom. "She was well enough to be moved to-night, so I broughther home and laid her safely in my bed. Poor little soul! she lookedabout her for a minute, then the lost look went away, and she gavea great sigh, and took my hand in both her thin bits of ones, andsaid,'O, ma'am, I feel as if I'd been born into a new world. Helpme to begin again, and I'll do better.' So I told her she was mychild now, and might rest here, sure of a home as long as I hadone."As Miss Mills spoke in her motherly tone, and cast a proud andhappy look toward the warm and quiet nest in which she hadsheltered this friendless little sparrow, feeling sure that God meanther to keep it from falling to the ground, Polly put both arms abouther neck, and kissed her withered cheek with as much lovingreverence as if she had been a splendid saint, for in the likeness ofthis plain old maid she saw the lovely charity that blesses andsaves the world."How good you are! Dear Miss Mills, tell me what to do, let mehelp you, I'm ready for anything," said Polly, very humbly, for herown troubles looked so small and foolish beside the sternhardships which had nearly had so tragical an end, that she feltheartily ashamed of herself, and quite burned to atone for them.Miss, Mills stopped to stroke the fresh cheek opposite, to smile,and say, "Then, Polly, I think I'll ask you to go in and say afriendly word to my little girl. The sight of you will do her good;and you have just the right way of comforting people, withoutmaking a fuss.""Have I?" said Polly, looking much gratified by the words."Yes, dear, you've the gift of sympathy, and the rare art ofshowing it without offending. I would n't let many girls in to seemy 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'sdone now, thanks to your nimble fingers."Polly threw the warm garment over her arm, feeling a thrill ofgratitude that it was to wrap a living girl in, and not to hide away ayoung heart that had grown cold too soon. Pushing open the door,she went quietly into the dimly lighted room, and on the pillowsaw a face that drew her to it with an irresistible power, for it wastouched by a solemn shadow that made its youth pathetic. As shepaused at the bedside, thinking the girl asleep, a pair of hollow,dark eyes opened wide, and looked up at her; startled at first, thensoftening with pleasure, at sight of the bonny face before them,and then a humble, beseeching expression filled them, as if askingpardon for the rash act nearly committed, and pity for the hard fatethat prompted it. Polly read the language of these eyes, andanswered their mute prayer with a simple eloquence that said morethan any words for she just stooped down and kissed the poorchild, with her own eyes full, and lips that trembled with thesympathy she could not tell. Jenny put both arms about her neck,and began to shed the quiet tears that so refresh and comfort heavyhearts when a tender touch 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.The old life was too hard for such a little thing as you, and we aregoing to try and make the new one ever so much easier andhappier," said Polly, forgetting everything except that this was agirl like herself, who needed heartening up."Do you live here?" asked Jenny, when her tears were wiped away,still clinging to the new-found friend."Yes, Miss Mills lets me have a little room up stairs, and there Ihave my cat and bird, my piano and my posy pots, and live like aqueen. You must 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 playwith me," answered Polly, 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 strongand pretty, and able to go round making music all the time," sighedJenny, looking with respectful admiration at the plump, firm handheld in both her 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 fromthe silly girl who cried because she could n't go to the party. Itpassed through her mind like a flash, the contrast between her life,and that of the wan creature lying before her, and she felt as if shecould not give enough out of her abundance to this needy littlesister, who had nothing in the wide world but the life just saved toher. That minute did more for Polly than many sermons, or thewisest books, for it brought her face to face with bitter truths,showed her the dark side of life, and seemed to blow away herlittle vanities, her frivolous desires, like a wintry wind, that left awholesome atmosphere behind. Sitting on the bedside, Pollylistened while Jane told the story, which was so new to herlistener, that every word sank deep into her heart, and never wasforgotten."Now you must go to sleep. Don't cry nor think, nor do anythingbut rest. That will please Miss Mills best. I'll leave the doors open,and play you a lullaby that you can't resist. Good night, dear." Andwith another kiss, Polly went away to sit in the darkness of herown room, playing her softest airs till the tired eyes below wereshut, and little Jane seemed to float away on a sea of pleasantsounds, into the happier life which had just dawned for her.Polly had fully intended to be very miserable, and cry herself tosleep; but when she lay down at last, her pillow seemed very soft,her little room very lovely, with the fire-light flickering on all thehome-like objects, and her new-blown roses breathing her a sweetgood-night. She no longer felt an injured, hard-working, unhappyPolly, but as if quite burdened with blessings, for which she was n'thalf grateful enough. She had heard of poverty and suffering, in thevague, far-off way, which is all that many girls, safe in happyhomes, ever know of it; but now she had seen it, in a shape whichshe could feel and understand, and life grew more earnest to herfrom that minute. So much to do in the great, busy world, and shehad done so little. Where should she begin? Then, like an answercame little Jenny's words, now taking a,'new significance' to Polly'smind, "To be strong, and beautiful, and go round making music allthe time." Yes, she could do that; and with a very earnest prayer,Polly asked for the strength of an upright soul, the beauty of atender heart, the power to make her life a sweet and stirring 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 inwords, went up together, for in the fulness of time they werebeautifully answered.