Books: Polly of Pebbly Pit
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Lillian Elizabeth Roy >> Polly of Pebbly Pit
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He began eating at once, and the three boarders watched him scoop up
the liquid as if his life depended upon finishing the work. The amount
of noise he made while accomplishing the feat was a revelation to the
Maynard girls and mortifying to Mrs. Brewster.
Sary concluded her serving and sat down to enjoy her own meal. She used
the blade of her knife as a shovel and the fork-prongs as a pick. When
she was not spearing or loading food upon either, she was using the
silver as an eloquent means of expressing her conversation--which was
voluble.
The moment supper ended, Mr. Brewster remarked: "The trunks are safe in
the barn. Whenever you need them you can tell Jeb, and he will see that
they are carried in for you."
"Thank you, but I shall have them taken back to Oak Creek to-morrow as
I have no idea of remaining to spoil my summer," returned Barbara
haughtily.
Mr. Brewster made no reply but excused himself and went out to the wide
steps of the front porch where he sat down to watch the peaceful
twilight as it crept slowly over the mountain peaks.
Here, the rest of the family soon joined him, and the wonderful western
night, as the brilliant stars sparkled seemingly so near to earth, had
its soothing effect on the perturbed hearts and minds of all present.
When Mrs. Brewster finally mentioned that it was bed-time the
individuals in the group felt more amiably disposed towards each other.
Anne Stewart was awake bright and early in the morning and, finding the
sisters sleeping soundly, crept out to enjoy the invigorating breezes
blowing down from the mountain-peaks.
Some time later, Eleanor sat up and rubbed her eyes, at a loss to
remember where she was. After a moment, however, she saw the sofa and
laughed merrily.
"Oh, won't you be quiet! What is the matter with you?" complained
Barbara, sleepily.
"Nothing--I feel so alive! Get up and hear the birds sing," replied
Eleanor, springing out of bed and running over to the window.
"Oh, Bob! Look at the dazzling mountain-peaks, over there! I suppose
these cool breezes come straight from those ice-tops," exclaimed
Eleanor.
"I may as well get up or you'll cause a riot of noise," answered
Barbara, querulously.
"Of course I will. I slept so well that I could dance on a trapeze just
now. How did you sleep?"
"Why--what does it matter to you?" countered Barbara peevishly.
"Matter? Why, that bed removes one of the obstacles to your remaining
here," laughed Eleanor, triumphantly.
Barbara would not admit that she had never slept better nor would she
prevaricate, so she merely said: "I am going to Oak Creek the moment we
finish breakfast and wire father's bank for money."
"Might as well find out, first, if you can use the team and wagon. Jeb
only goes to town when anything has to be had here or shipped away by
train. A trip of twelve miles is not a trifle every day in the week,"
remarked Eleanor.
"I'll ride a horse to Oak Creek myself. I'll not stand this awful place
another day!" declared Barbara.
"You can't ride a horse without its owner's permission."
"Besides," added Eleanor as an afterthought occurred to her, "you only
have your new traveling suit and the little light summer frock here.
The trunks are going back to Oak Creek to-day, you said, and your
riding habit is in one of them."
Barbara made no reply to this statement and Eleanor drew on her
stockings and then sought for her shoes which she had playfully aimed
at Anne Stewart the night previous. One was found by the bureau and the
other was seen under the window. She ran over to pick up the one by the
window.
"Oh, Bob! Come here quick!"
"What is it?" cried Barbara, hastily running over to join her sister.
"My! The sun has just touched those snow-covered peaks! I never saw
anything so dazzlingly beautiful!" sighed Eleanor, lost in
contemplation of the sight.
Barbara also stood watching the sun-beams glancing over the towering
peaks, and then she said apologetically:
"I never said the _scenery_ wasn't wonderful. It is! But one cannot
thrive on mountains, or associate with views."
"Still, it goes a long way towards creating environment, while the
atmosphere and friendships are up to the individual," retorted Eleanor.
"Oh, well, you have the knack of making friends with any one, but I am
more reserved and ideal in nature, so I simply cannot accommodate
myself to such people and places as this!"
"No, but you can accommodate yourself to some empty-headed society
youth who hangs over your hotel-piazza chair and tells foolish fibs to
feed your vanity!" scorned Eleanor.
Another sisterly scene might have ensued had not Anne entered the room
at this critical time.
"Girls, better hurry and finish dressing as breakfast is almost ready
to serve," said she, after a pleasant morning greeting.
"How long have you been up?" asked Barbara.
"Oh, an hour or more. I succeeded in working out a scheme I had to make
things pleasanter for every one, and I want you to hurry and approve of
it."
CHAPTER VII
A LITTLE SCHEME THAT WORKED
Anne lay with closed eyes for a long time revolving many plans for the
ultimate harmony of that summer, and when she finally allowed herself
to sleep, she had a scheme that she was going to try the next day.
As she came from her room early in the morning, she spied Polly sitting
disconsolately on the porch-steps. She went over and sat down beside
her.
"Polly, I cannot blame you for wishing we had never come, but now that
we are here, let us see if we cannot make something out of the tangle
of disappointments. Eleanor will love the place at once, as she is so
much like you in nature, dear, but Bob always grumbles over things at
first. No matter where or what it is, she feels that she is not showing
her superiority if she is not condemning what she comes in contact
with. It really is a disease, Polly, and I have tried to cure her of it
this last year. I am hoping for great things for her during this
season, but I feel that I must confide in you to let you know just what
the trouble is. Bob will make a fine woman if this hateful tendency is
uprooted in time."
Polly smiled wanly, and Anne, wise young teacher, changed the subject
then.
"What a pity one has to waste such glorious views and delightful
weather while sitting at breakfast in the kitchen!"
"Where would you eat it?" laughed Polly, looking with amusement at her
companion.
"Why, under that lovely group of oaks, to be sure," replied the
teacher, pointing at the trees that shaded the well-kept grass plot and
flower-beds at the side of the house.
"Under the trees!"
"Certainly; what do you suppose they were grown for if not for our
uplift and joy?"
"Why, Miss Stewart, how funny of you! Who ever heard of having meals
out-of-doors--except at picnics," laughed Polly.
"Every one who can now prefers out-of-doors to a stuffy room on summer
days," replied Anne, calmly, but watching the effect of her words.
Satisfied with Polly's expression, she added: "Didn't you ever read
about the garden parties of society people, and the present-day trend
to live on wide porches and out-of-doors at every opportunity? Your
magazines ought to be full of such accounts."
"Oh, yes, in magazines, but I never dreamed it was true. I've studied
every plan and picture I've seen in the magazines, and I loved to
picture the beautiful places and furnishings they speak of."
Anne had heard from Polly's brother John, how his sister studied every
item on decorating that could be found in papers or periodicals. But
Anne did not know that Polly really had a latent talent in this line
nor how ambitious she was to express art and beauty in the home.
"That is what I'd like to try here. Have our meals out under those
trees. It won't make much extra work as the spot is very convenient to
the kitchen door, but we will avoid the heat and steam from the stove
and cooking, and have much more room, too."
"I don't suppose it makes much difference where we eat as long as we
get it over with as soon as possible," returned Polly.
"That's just the trouble with most people. They merely eat because they
feel they have to, but they never stop to make of the habit an
opportunity to improve themselves and enjoy a social meeting with each
other. We may as well be Zulus and eat with our fingers. Maybe the
Zulus would prove more ideal for their home teachings than we really
are."
Polly laughed again at Anne's words, but the latter added:
"It's true, Polly. How many people trouble themselves to eat politely,
and act or talk from the highest motives? The Zulus follow traditional
customs. If we did we would follow the refined court manners of our
English and Dutch ancestors. Instead, we are in such haste to eat and
get back to the business of making money, that we lose all the pleasure
along the way there."
Polly listened anxiously and understood that Anne was gently
criticizing what she saw and heard in the kitchen the night before.
Anne watched Polly's face and knew she comprehended, then she
continued:
"If we have breakfast in the open air it will be much cooler for every
one, and Sary need not stop her routine work on account of our being in
her way in the kitchen. If we help and wait on ourselves Sary need not
be delayed by our tardiness in appearing at table."
"Miss Stewart, I think you're right. And one good thing about eating
out here is that we won't feel crowded together with nothing to look at
but each other. At least we have the mountains, if we make the oak-
trees our new dining-room."
Anne laughed at the manner of Polly's approval and said: "Yes, Polly,
the mountains are great and wonderful and so silent, besides."
"Let's go now and ask Maw what she thinks of the plan."
"In a moment, Polly. You know I am anxious to help you in every way,
and to teach you if you express yourself poorly?"
"Yes; that's the only good thing about this awful visit," admitted the
girl.
"Then allow me to correct an error in speech. If you wish to go to
Denver High this fall, I want you to use refined expressions."
Anne looked at her companion and smiled kindly, and Polly said: "Oh,
I'll be so glad to correct any mistakes. Tell me what?"
"Just now you called your mother 'Maw.' And I have heard you call your
father 'Paw.' They are western terms, but they are not considered
correct or refined, elsewhere. The name of Father or Mother is a term
of respect and loving reverence from the children. I would like to have
you accustom yourself to the use of these titles for your parents and
see how the very sound of it will cause you to _feel_ more affection."
Polly weighed this news thoughtfully but she was surprised at the
information that her customary "Maw" and "Paw" were not the most
desirable terms to use. She knew that Anne Stewart knew better than she
what was the proper manner of speech and she thanked her for her
interest in helping her.
"Then another thing I want you to do, Polly, is that you call me
'Anne.' I am to be with you as one of the family all this summer, and
the 'Miss' is too formal for members in the same family. I want to ask
this favor of your mother and father too. If you were to use Eleanor's
and Barbara's first names for them as I do, I think they would feel
more at home."
"Oh, Miss--I mean Anne, I will love to call you that, but I never
_could_ have courage enough to call that proud girl by the name of
'Bob'!" declared Polly.
Anne laughed and patted her apt pupil on the head, then she said,
"Shall we go in search of your mother and ask about the breakfast
table?"
Polly jumped up and led the way to the kitchen door where Sary was hard
at work.
"Sary, can you tell us where my mother is?" asked Polly.
"Your maw's just went to th' buttery to skim the milk," said she,
giving Polly an opportunity to compare the two terms.
As the two girls went toward the buttery, Polly admitted: "Anne, it
does make a difference, I think."
Anne nodded brightly and opened the creamery-door. Mrs. Brewster stood
with skimmer in hand, taking the rich cream from the pans of milk. She
looked up with a welcoming smile as the two girls came in.
"Mother, Anne's been giving me 'first aid' in manners," laughed Polly,
watching her mother's expression keenly.
"In which line, dear; there are several you can improve in," rejoined
Mrs. Brewster, with a loving little laugh.
"Didn't you hear me? I have improved upon your name."
"I noticed it, but I wanted to make sure it was intentional and not a
mistake."
"Tell me--do you like it?" asked Polly, eagerly.
"Indeed I do, dear; I never could abide that name of 'Maw' and 'Paw'
that is common with the ranchers."
"Then why didn't you tell me this long ago! Oh, mother!"
"If I corrected you, and the other children at school heard you use
different terms from those they were accustomed to, they would think
you 'proud' and 'too good for a rancher.' I have heard that criticism
so often, that I have given up trying to better conditions or express
my own desires in anything that an illiterate and inexperienced
neighbor may find fault with. I just accept things as they are, now,
but hope for better things for my children."
This was a new light on her mother, and Polly felt subdued by it. She
wondered if her mother would have been any different if she had been in
Mrs. Maynard's place.
"You see," continued Mrs. Brewster, turning to Anne, "one so gets to
dread the free speech and narrow-minded opinions of some ranchers that
one forbears in _everything_, rather than have strife and ill-will
from those one must meet at times."
Anne nodded. "But sometimes it is better to take the risk of offending
the whole community if one finally wins out."
Mrs. Brewster looked approvingly at the girl, and Polly changed the
conversation by saying:
"Mother, Anne and I have a plan that will surprise you."
Mrs. Brewster smiled encouragingly for the girls to speak.
"It's just this: we think it will be lovely to move the table out under
the trees. There the air and view can be enjoyed and afford us ample
subjects for conversation," explained Anne.
"Anne, splendid! After my experience of last night I would hail any
change. But this is really good. I never thought of it myself," replied
Mrs. Brewster, with relief.
On their walk to the kitchen, they planned to remove the table and
chairs; then Mrs. Brewster added: "My husband breakfasted an hour ago
but said he would be back when we sat down for coffee. He enjoys a
second cup at his leisure. And I'm quite sure Sary gave Jeb his
breakfast after I left the kitchen, so that gives us a clear start for
the first meal to-day."
Sary was found upon her knees before the kitchen range, polishing the
nickel name-plate on the oven door. A dish-pan of hot water and a
scrubbing brush stood upon the floor beside her. As Mrs. Brewster came
in, Sary glanced up impatiently.
"Ah de'clar t' goodness! Ah wish you-all'd eat that brekfus an' vamoose
outen my way. Ah hes t' scrub this hull floor soon ez th' stove's
shined!"
"That's exactly why I came in, Sary--to get breakfast out of your way,"
returned Mrs. Brewster, sending a swift glance at Polly and Anne.
As Sary's words made way for their work, all fell to with a vim. Polly
and Anne carried dishes and chairs out of the room, while Mrs. Brewster
whisked off the cloth and asked the maid to help her carry the table
out under the trees.
No reply came from Sary, and the mistress turned to see why she did not
come to assist. The ludicrous expression on the widow's face, as she
sat bolt upright with her blackened hands raised heavenward in silent
protest, made Mrs. Brewster laugh.
"What's the matter, Sary?"
"Yore a clar case o' bein' locoed!" gasped the help.
"Not at all, but you want to scrub the floor, don't you?"
"Ah don't need th' furnishin's taken out fer that!"
"But we want to eat, you see, and under the trees we'll be quite out of
your way. Here, Anne, help me with the table, will you, please?" said
Mrs. Brewster, with finality.
The table was firmly placed under the trees and the cloth relaid. Then
the willowware dishes and old Tuttle silver were arranged by Anne,
while Polly watched eagerly.
"I do believe those old blue dishes look ten times as nice out here as
in the kitchen!" declared Polly, while Anne placed a few wild flowers
on the center of the table.
"Merely the effect of your mental testimony, Polly. In the kitchen,
with steam, working utensils, and crowed sense of room, everything
takes on a sordid look and feeling. But out in God's sunshine and fresh
air, everything looks and feels better. That is why sun and air are the
best physician for any ill," explained Anne.
Mrs. Brewster heard, and watched Anne with a bright smile, as the
sentiment of the words were exactly what she ofttimes thought. When the
three returned to the kitchen to take the biscuits and other breakfast
food out, Sary stood with head thrown back and body rocking back and
forth as she laughed immoderately.
"Do tell, Mis' Brewster! You-all bean't goin' t' _eat_ out thar, now be
yuh?"
"Why, of course!" retorted Polly.
"Why shouldn't we?" asked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary could not explain, so she turned to the stove while mumbling to
herself the doubts she had over the sanity of the women-folks of this
queer family--excepting herself of course!
Anne had gone to the guest-room to call the girls, and to her relief,
found them both dressed and ready for breakfast.
"It's a lovely morning," said she, in greeting to them.
"Yes, I've been sniffing the sweetness at the open window," replied
Eleanor, but Barbara stood unresponsive.
Anne noticed the simple-looking house-frocks they wore, and felt
relieved at the simplicity of color and lines, although she knew that
the name-tag inside of those dresses spoke silently of their cost.
"We're going to breakfast out on the lawn--it is perfectly charming
there," explained Anne, leading the way from the living-room by way of
the front door in order to avoid Sary and her scrub-pail.
But Sary had been anxiously peeping from the crack of the kitchen door,
and felt mortally offended when the company went out by the front way.
"Was it not enough that the folks were too far removed from the kitchen
to permit Sary to overhear what was said at table, but now they have to
walk out at the Sunday door?"
So thought the widow as she left her peep-hole back of the door and
stood watching from the open window by the cupboard.
Every one seemed in a pleasanter mood than that of the previous
evening, and as breakfast advanced, Eleanor went so far as to ask her
sister to remain at the ranch a few days, at least. And Barbara,
although she would not admit it, knew the bed was exceptionally good
and the breakfast most enjoyable, while the air and scenery were simply
wonderful!
When Mr. Brewster came along the path leading from the barn, he stood
near a lilac bush for a few moments watching the pretty group under the
trees. But he couldn't understand having breakfast outside the usual
place--the kitchen!
"Is this a picnic?" asked he, at length, coming forward.
"Good morning, Paw--Father! Isn't this fun?" cried Polly.
Mrs. Brewster and Anne exchanged glances at Polly's error and
correction, but Sam Brewster failed to notice the new term. He bowed to
the three guests and smilingly took the chair his wife placed for him
at the table.
While Mrs. Brewster poured his coffee, she remarked: "This is Polly's
and Anne's idea. Isn't it sensible--and much pleasanter than in the
stuffy kitchen?"
He nodded approval and Polly felt satisfied. Then as her father sipped
his fragrant coffee, she said: "Anne was just saying that I ought to
show them the Rainbow Cliffs after breakfast."
"It's so clear to-day Ah wouldn't be surprised but what you-all will
see Pagoda Peak and Grizzly Slide from the Cliffs, Polly," added Mr.
Brewster.
"If we can, they'll like it; it's a wonderful sight, Anne, with the sun
shining on the snow-capped crests," explained Polly.
"And then you can take them over there some day, Polly. A good lunch
can be packed into Choko's panniers, and with sure-footed horses the
ride will be most delightful," added Mrs. Brewster.
"Maw, you can go, too. You agreed to take things easy, you know,"
reminded her husband.
"Oh, Sam! Riding over the Flat Top Mountains would be the hardest work
for me, these days!" laughed Mrs. Brewster.
"Pshaw now! You used to ride better than any cow-boy in these parts,
and you can't tell me those days are past," argued Mr. Brewster,
dropping the habit of using western terms in his eagerness.
"I've heard of Mrs. Brewster's famous riding," now chimed in Anne.
"She can ride better'n Pa--Father, or any one I ever saw!" Polly
maintained.
Mrs. Brewster shook her head in a vain effort to discourage such
praise, then she turned to the Maynard girls, saying: "Do you
understand western horses? They are rather difficult at times, you
know."
"We ride daily when in Chicago," said Barbara, boastfully.
"But city horses are mere nags, Bob. These half-wild animals accustomed
to roaming the plains, are something worth while, you will find,"
laughed Anne.
"I'd advise your going to the corral and having Jeb try out the horses
for you, before you undertake any long jaunt," suggested Mrs. Brewster.
"We can visit the Cliffs this morning, and try riding this afternoon,"
added Polly eagerly.
"Then Bob and I will have to get our habits from one of the trunks in
the barn," said Eleanor.
"Bob and you run along and do that while Polly and I make the beds and
clear away the breakfast," ventured Anne, looking at Mrs. Brewster.
Barbara seemed as interested as any one.
So Barbara and Eleanor followed Mr. Brewster to the barn to point out
the trunk they wanted to open, while Polly cleared the table and Mrs.
Brewster went with Anne to make the beds. As they worked in the guest-
room, they exchanged confidences about the two visitors.
"It seems the lovely morning has had a salutary effect on Barbara's
feelings regarding Pebbly Pit," ventured Anne.
"I hope so," replied Mrs. Brewster, diffidently.
"You see, Eleanor is broad-minded--more like her father, but Bob takes
too much after her mother to adapt herself readily to such a radical
change as a ranch," continued Anne, apologetically.
"Eleanor appears to be a nice girl."
"Bob will shortly be as satisfied as Nolla, but she just can't let go
of herself and her foolish training in a minute. If we have a few
pleasant outings to show her how really wonderful the country is, she
will open out in her natural sweet self."
"It certainly isn't a pleasant surprise, to expect a modern fashionable
Summer Resort and then find a forgotten nook in the pit of an extinct
volcano," laughed Mrs. Brewster, humorously.
"Yes, Bob was terribly upset last night. I fancy she was regretting
those seven trunks filled with expensive clothes," added Anne, smiling
at the remembrance.
"I can't but wonder that such a sensible girl as you seem to be, can be
so fond of a girl so different from you in every way," remarked Mrs.
Brewster, looking Anne in the eyes.
Anne flushed. "When you know her as I do, you will see that she really
is not snobbish, but only assumes it. As I said, she is the result of
silly training by a society mother. I have seen the genuine nature
buried by habits and I am willing to help her bring it out to establish
it permanently. Nolla will develop herself, if she is allowed to
express herself without constant ridicule or reprimands. This summer
ought to do wonders for both those girls."
Mrs. Brewster showed her approval by nodding her head affirmatively at
Anne.
"You had ample time to study the two girls last winter when they were
in Denver, I suppose," suggested Mrs. Brewster.
"Yes, I was with them most of the time, and the result of the erroneous
influence over Bob was always noticeable after a short visit from Mrs.
Maynard. She only visited her daughters twice in the eight months, but
it was generally so unpleasant a time for every one, that we were
relieved that she had too many social engagements to come oftener."
Anne bent down to tuck in the sheets as she spoke so frankly concerning
her friends' mother.
"But I must not disparage Mrs. Maynard in your eyes--you may find in
her many fine qualities that have been hidden from me," quickly added
Anne, fearing she had given her hostess a wrong idea.
"Perhaps they are hidden very deep."
Anne laughed. "Mr. Maynard is just splendid. He is so _human! He_ must
have found the good qualities in his wife, and she, doubtless,
permitted herself to be misled by vain aspirations to reach a social
height offered by her husband's success in business."
"Love is blind, Anne. When a man fancies himself in love with a pretty
girl, he seldom seeks for lasting qualities or a strong character. He
accepts the transitory beauty as the real thing and wakes up, too late,
to find he entertained a dream."
"I think you and I feel alike in this problem; my friends laugh at my--
what they call--unreasonable opinions on marriage," said Anne, eagerly
inviting a discussion with Mrs. Brewster.
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