Books: An Old fashioned Girl
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Louisa May Alcott >> An Old fashioned Girl
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"It is n't a secret, and you would n't care for it. Do you want
another pillow?" she added, as Tom gave his a thump.
"This will do; but why you women always stick tassels and fringe
all over a sofa-cushion, to tease and tickle a fellow, is what I don't
understand."
"One thing that Polly does Sunday nights, is to take Will's head in
her lap, and smooth his forehead. It rests him after studying so
hard, she says. If you don't like the pillow, I could do that for you,
'cause you look as if you were more tired of studying than Will,"
said Maud, with some hesitation, but an evident desire to be useful
and agreeable.
"Well, I don't care if you do try it, for I am confoundedly tired."
And Tom laughed, as he recalled the frolic he had been on the
night before.
Maud established herself with great satisfaction, and Tom owned
that a silk apron was nicer than a fuzzy cushion.
"Do you like it?" she asked, after a few strokes over the hot
forehead, which she thought was fevered by intense application to
Greek and Latin.
"Not bad; play away," was the gracious reply, as Tom shut his
eyes, and lay so still that Maud was charmed at the success of her
attempt. Presently, she said, softly, "Tom, are you asleep?"
"Just turning the comer."
"Before you get quite round would you please tell me what a
Public Admonition is?"
"What do you want to know for?" demanded Tom, opening his
eyes very wide.
"I heard Will talking about Publics and Privates, and I meant to ask
him, but I forgot."
"What did he say?"
"I don't remember; it was about somebody who cut prayers, and
got a Private, and had done all sorts of bad things, and had one or
two Publics. I did n't hear the name and did n't care; I only wanted
to know what the words meant."
"So Will tells tales, does he?" and Tom's forehead wrinkled with a
frown.
"No, he did n't; Polly knew about it and asked him."
"Will's a 'dig,'" growled Tom, shutting his eyes again, as if nothing
more could be said of the delinquent William.
"I don't care if he is; I like him very much, and so does Polly."
"Happy Fresh!" said Tom, with a comical groan.
"You need n't sniff at him, for he is nice, and treats me with
respect," cried Maud, with an energy that made Tom laugh in her
face.
"He 's good to Polly always, and puts on her cloak for her, and says
'my dear,' and kisses her 'goodnight,' and don't think it 's silly, and I
wish I had a brother just like him, yes, I do!" And Maud showed
signs of woe, for her disappointment about going was very great.
"Bless my boots! what's the chicken ruffling up her little feathers
and pecking at me for? Is that the way Polly soothes the best of
brothers?" said Tom, still laughing.
"Oh, I forgot! there, I won't cry; but I do want to go," and Maud
swallowed her tears, and began to stroke again.
Now Tom's horse and sleigh were in the stable, for he meant to
drive out to College that evening, but he did n't take Maud's hint. It
was less trouble to lie still, and say in a conciliatory tone, "Tell
me some more about this good boy, it 's very interesting."
"No, I shan't, but I 'll tell about Puttel's playing on the piano," said
Maud, anxious to efface the memory of her momentary weakness.
"Polly points to the right key with a little stick, and Puttel sits on
the stool and pats each key as it 's touched, and it makes a tune. It
's so funny to see her, and Nick perches on the rack and sings as if
he 'd kill himself."
"Very thrilling," said Tom, in a sleepy tone.
Maud felt that her conversation was not as interesting as she
hoped, and tried again.
"Polly thinks you are handsomer than Mr. Sydney."
"Much obliged."
"I asked which she thought had the nicest face, and she said yours
was the handsomest, and his the best."
"Does he ever go there?" asked a sharp voice behind them; and
looking round Maud saw Fanny in the big chair, cooking her feet
over the register.
"I never saw him there; he sent up some books one day, and Will
teased her about it."
"What did she do?" demanded Fanny. "Oh, she shook him."
"What a spectacle!" and Tom looked as if he would have enjoyed
seeing it, but Fanny's face grew so forbidding, that Tom's little dog,
who was approaching to welcome her, put his tail between his legs
and fled under the table.
"Then there is n't any 'Sparking Sunday night'?" sung Tom, who
appeared to have waked up again.
"Of course not. Polly is n't going to marry anybody; she 's going to
keep house for Will when he 's a minister, I heard her say so,"
cried Maud, with importance.
"What a fate for pretty Polly!" ejaculated Tom.
"She likes it, and I 'm sure I should think she would; it 's beautiful
to hear 'em plan it all out."
"Any more gossip to retail, Pug?" asked Tom a minute after, as
Maud seemed absorbed in visions of the, future.
"He told a funny story about blowing up one of the professors. You
never told us, so I suppose you did n't know it. Some bad fellow
put a torpedo, or some sort of powder thing, under the chair, and it
went off in the midst of the lesson, and the poor man flew up,
frightened most to pieces, and the boys ran with pails of water to
put the fire out. But the thing that made Will laugh most was, that
the very fellow who did it got his trousers burnt trying to put out
the fire, and he asked the is it Faculty or President? "
"Either will do," murmured Tom, who was shaking with
suppressed laughter.
"Well, he asked 'em to give him some new ones, and they did give
him money enough, for a nice pair; but he got some cheap ones,
with horrid great stripes on 'em, and always wore 'em to that
particular class, 'which was one too many for the fellows,' Will
said, and with the rest of the money he had a punch party. Was n't
it dreadful?"
"Awful!" And Tom exploded into a great laugh, that made Fanny
cover her ears, and the little dog bark wildly.
"Did you know that bad boy?" asked innocent Maud.
"Slightly," gasped Tom, in whose wardrobe at college those
identical trousers were hanging at that moment.
"Don't make such a noise, my head aches dreadfully," said Fanny,
fretfully.
"Girls' heads always do ache," answered Tom, subsiding from a
roar into a chuckle.
"What pleasure you boys can find in such ungentlemanly things, I
don't see," said Fanny, who was evidently out of sorts.
"As much a mystery to you as it is to us, how you girls can like to
gabble and prink from one week's end to the other," retorted Tom.
There was a pause after this little passage-at-arms, but Fan wanted
to be amused, for time hung heavily on her hands, so she asked, in
a more amiable tone, "How 's Trix?"
"As sweet as ever," answered Tom, gruffly.
"Did she scold you, as usual?"
"She just did."
"What was the matter?"
"Well, I 'll leave it to you if this is n't unreasonable: she won't
dance with me herself, yet don't like me to go it with anybody else.
I said, I thought, if a fellow took a girl to a party, she ought to
dance with him once, at least, especially if they were engaged. She
said that was the very reason why she should n't do it; so, at the
last hop, I let her alone, and had a gay time with Belle, and to-day
Trix gave it to me hot and heavy, coming home from church."
"If you go and engage yourself to a girl like that, I don't know what
you can expect. Did she wear her Paris hat to-day?" added Fan,
with sudden interest in her voice.
"She wore some sort of a blue thing, with a confounded bird of
Paradise in it, that kept whisking into my face every time she
turned her head."
"Men never know a pretty thing when they see it. That hat is
perfectly lovely."
"They know a lady when they see her, and Trix don't look like one;
I can't say where the trouble is, but there 's too much fuss and
feathers for my taste. You are twice as stylish, yet you never look
loud or fast."
Touched by this unusual compliment, Fanny drew her chair nearer
as she replied with complacency, "Yes, I flatter myself I do know
how to dress well. Trix never did; she 's fond of gay colors, and
generally looks like a walking rainbow."
"Can't you give her a hint? Tell her not to wear blue gloves
anyway, she knows I hate 'em."
"I 've done my best for your sake, Tom, but she is a perverse
creature, and don't mind a word I say, even about things much
more objectionable than blue gloves."
"Maudie, run and bring me my other cigar case, it 's lying round
somewhere."
Maud went; and as soon as the door was shut, Tom rose on his
elbow, saying in a cautiously lowered voice, "Fan, does Trix
paint?"
"Yes, and draws too," answered Fanny, with a sly laugh.
"Come, you know what I mean; I 've a right to ask and you ought
to tell," said Tom, soberly, for he was beginning to find that being
engaged was not unmitigated bliss.
"What makes you think she does?"
"Well, between ourselves," said Tom, looking a little sheepish, but
anxious to set his mind at rest, "she never will let me kiss her on
her cheek, nothing but an unsatisfactory peck at her lips. Then the
other day, as I took a bit of heliotrope out of a vase to put in my
button-hole, I whisked a drop of water into her face; I was going to
wipe it off, but she pushed my hand away, and ran to the glass,
where she carefully dabbed it dry, and came back with one cheek
redder than the other. I did n't say anything, but I had my
suspicions. Come now, does she?"
"Yes, she does; but don't say a word to her, for she 'll never forgive
my telling if she knew it."
"I don't care for that; I don't like it, and I won't have it," said Tom,
decidedly.
"You can't help yourself. Half the girls do it, either paint or
powder, darken their lashes with burnt hair-pins, or take cologne
on lumps of sugar or belladonna to make their eyes bright. Clara
tried arsenic for her complexion, but her mother stopped it," said
Fanny, betraying the secrets of the prison-house in the basest
manner.
"I knew you girls were a set of humbugs, and very pretty ones, too,
some of you, but I can't say I like to see you painted up like a lot of
actresses," said Tom, with an air of disgust.
"I don't do anything of the sort, or need it, but Trix does; and
having chosen her, you must abide your choice, for better or
worse."
"It has n't come to that yet," muttered Tom, as he lay down again
with a rebellious air.
Maud's return put an end to these confidences, though Tom excited
her curiosity by asking the mysterious question, "I say, Fan, is
Polly up to that sort of thing?"
"No, she thinks it 's awful. When she gets pale and dragged out she
will probably change her mind."
"I doubt it," said Tom.
"Polly says it is n't proper to talk secrets before people who ain't in
'em," observed Maud, with dignity.
"Do, for mercy sake, stop talking about Polly, I 'm sick to death of
it," cried Fanny, snappishly.
"Hullo!" and Tom sat up to take a survey. "I thought you were
bosom friends, and as spoony as ever."
"Well, I am fond of Polly, but I get tired of hearing Maud sing her
praises everlastingly. Now don't go and repeat that, chatterbox."
"My goodness, is n't she cross?" whispered Maud to Tom.
"As two sticks; let her be. There 's the bell; see who it is, Pug,"
answered Tom, as a tingle broke the silence of the house.
Maud went to peep over the banisters, and came flying back in a
rapture.
"It 's Will come for me! Can't I go? It don't snow hard, and I 'll
bundle up, and you can send for me when papa comes."
"I don't care what you do," answered Fan, who was in a very bad
temper.
Without waiting for any other permission, Maud rushed away to
get ready. Will would n't come up, he was so snowy, and Fanny
was glad, because with her he was bashful, awkward, and silent, so
Tom went down and entertained him with Maud's report. They
were very good friends, but led entirely different lives, Will being
a "dig," and Tom a "bird," or, in plain English, one was a hard
student, and the other a jolly young gentleman. Tom had rather
patronized Will, who did n't like it, and showed that he did n't by
refusing to borrow money of him, or accept any of his invitations
to join the clubs and societies to which Tom belonged. So Shaw let
Milton alone, and he got on very well in his own way, doggedly
sticking to his books, and resisting all temptations but those of
certain libraries, athletic games, and such inexpensive pleasures as
were within his means; for this benighted youth had not yet
discovered that college nowadays is a place in which to "sky-lark,"
not to study.
When Maud came down and trotted contentedly away, holding
Will's hand, Tom watched them out of sight, and then strolled
about the house whistling and thinking, till he went to sleep in his
father's arm-chair, for want of something better to do. He awoke to
the joys of a solitary tea, for his mother never came down, and
Fanny shut herself and her headache up in her own room.
"Well, this is cheerful," he said, as the clock struck eight, and his
fourth cigar came to an end. "Trix is mad, and Fan in the dumps,
so I 'll take myself off. Guess I 'll go round to Polly's, and ask Will
to drive out with me, and save him the walk, poor chap. Might
bring Midget home, it will please her, and there 's no knowing
when the governor will be back."
With these thoughts in his head, Tom leisurely got under way, and
left his horse at a neighboring stable, for he meant to make a little
call, and see what it was Maud enjoyed so much.
"Polly is holding forth," he said to himself, as he went quietly up
stairs, and the steady murmur of a pleasant voice came down to
him. Tom laughed at Polly's earnest way of talking when she was
interested in anything. But he liked it because it was so different
from the coquettish clatter of most of the girls with whom he
talked. Young men often laugh at the sensible girls whom they
secretly respect, and affect to admire the silly ones whom they
secretly despise, because earnestness, intelligence, and womanly
dignity are not the fashion.
The door was ajar, and pausing in the dark entry Tom took a
survey before he went in. The prospect was not dazzling, but
home-like and pleasant. The light of a bright fire filled the little
room, and down on a stool before it was Maud tending Puttel, and
watching with deep interest the roasting of an apple intended for
her special benefit. On the couch lounged Will, his thoughtful eyes
fixed on Polly, who, while she talked, smoothed the broad
forehead of her "yellow-haired laddie" in a way that Tom thought
an immense improvement on Maud's performance. They had
evidently been building castles in the air, for Polly was saying in
her most impressive manner, "Well, whatever you do, Will, don't
have a great, costly church that takes so much money to build and
support it that you have nothing to give away. I like the plain,
old-fashioned churches, built for use, not show, where people met
for hearty praying and preaching, and where everybody made their
own music instead of listening to opera singers, as we do now. I
don't care if the old churches were bare and cold, and the seats
hard, there was real piety in them, and the sincerity of it was felt in
the lives of the people. I don't want a religion that I put away with
my Sunday clothes, and don't take out till the day comes round
again; I want something to see and feel and live by day-by-day, and
I hope you 'll be one of the true ministers, who can teach by
precept and example, how to get and keep it."
"I hope I shall be, Polly, but you know they say that in families, if
there is a boy who can't do anything else, they make a minister of
him. I sometimes think I ain't good for much, and that seems to me
the reason why I should n't even try to be a minister," said Will,
smiling, yet looking as if with all his humility he did have faith in
the aspirations that came to him in his best moments.
"Some one said that very thing to father once, and I remember he
answered, 'I am glad to give my best and brightest son to the
service of God.' "
"Did he say that?" and Will's color rose, for the big, book-loving
fellow was as sensitive as a girl to the praise of those dearest to
him.
"Yes," said Polly, unconsciously giving the strongest stimulus to
her brother's hope and courage. "Yes, and he added, 'I shall let my
boys follow the guide that is in them, and only ask of them to use
their gifts conscientiously, and be honest, useful men.' "
"So we will! Ned is doing well out West, and I 'm hard at it here. If
father does his best to give us the chance we each want, the least
we can do is to work with a will."
"Whatever you do, you can't help working with a Will," cried Tom,
who had been so interested, that he forgot he was playing
eavesdropper.
Polly flew up, looking so pleased and surprised, that Tom
reproached himself for not having called oftener.
"I 've come for Maud," he announced, in a paternal tone, which
made that young lady open her eyes.
"I can't go till my apple is done; besides, it is n't nine yet, and Will
is going to take me along, when he goes. I 'd rather have him."
"I 'm going to take you both in the cutter. The storm is over, but it
is heavy walking, so you 'll drive out with me, old man?" said
Tom, with a nod at Will.
"Of course he will; and thank you very much. I 've been trying to
keep him all night; Miss Mills always manages to find a corner for
stray people, but he insists on going, so as to get to work early
to-morrow," said Polly, delighted to see that Tom was taking off
his coat, as if he meant to wait for Maud's apple, which Polly
blessed for being so slow to cook.
Putting her guest into the best chair, Polly sat down and beamed at
him with such hospitable satisfaction, that Tom went up several
pegs in his own estimation.
"You don't come very often, so we are rather over-powered when
you do honor us," she said, demurely.
"Well, you, know we fellows are so busy, we have n't much time to
enjoy ourselves," answered Tom.
"Ahem!" said Will, loudly.
"Take a troche," said Tom.
Then they both burst out laughing, and Polly, fully understanding
the joke, joined them, saying, "Here are some peanuts, Tom; do
enjoy yourself while you can."
"Now I call that a delicate compliment!" And Tom, who had not
lost his early relish for this sort of refreshment, though he seldom
indulged his passion nowadays, because peanuts are considered
vulgar, fell to cracking and munching with great satisfaction.
"Do you remember the first visit I made at your house, how you
gave me peanuts, coming from the depot, and frightened me out of
my wits, pretending the coachman was tipsy?" asked Polly.
"Of course I do, and how we coasted one day," answered Tom,
laughing.
"Yes, and the velocipede; you 've got the scar of that yet, I see."
"I remember how you stood by me while it was sewed up; that was
very plucky, Polly."
"I was dreadfully afraid, but I remember I wanted to seem very
brave, because you 'd called me a coward."
"Did I? Ought to have been ashamed of myself. I used to rough you
shamefully, Polly, and you were so good-natured, you let me do
it."
"Could n't help myself," laughed Polly. "I did use to think you were
an awful boy, but seems to me I rather liked it."
"She had so much of it at home, she got used to it," put in Will,
pulling the little curl behind Polly's ear.
"You boys never teased me as Tom did, that 's the reason it amused
me, I suppose; novelty hath charms, you know."
"Grandma used to lecture Tom for plaguing you, Polly, and he
used to say he 'd be a tip-top boy, but he was n't," observed Maud,
with a venerable air.
"Dear old grandma; she did her best, but I 'm a bad lot," said Tom,
with a shake of the head and a sober face.
"It always seems as if she must be up in her rooms, and I can't get
used to finding them empty," added Polly, softly.
"Father would n't have anything moved, and Tom sits up there
sometimes; it makes him feel good, he says," said Maud, who had
a talent for betraying trifles which people preferred should not be
mentioned in public.
"You 'd better hurry up your apple, for if it is n't done pretty soon,
you 'll have to leave it, Pug," said Tom, looking annoyed.
"How is Fan?" asked Polly, with tact.
"Well, Fan is rather under the weather; says she 's dyspeptic, which
means cross."
"She is cross, but she 's sick too, for I found her crying one day,
and she said nobody cared about her, and she might as well be
dead," added Maud, having turned her apple with tender care.
"We must try to cheer her up, among us. If I was n't so busy I 'd
like to devote myself to her, she has done so much for me," said
Polly, gratefully.
"I wish you could. I can't understand her, for she acts like a
weathercock, and I never know how I 'm going to find her. I hate to
have her mope so, but, upon my life, I don't know what to do," said
Tom; but as he uttered the words, something was suggested by the
sight before him. Chairs were few, and Polly had taken half of
Will's when they drew round the fire. Now she was leaning against
him, in a cosy, confiding way, delightful to behold, while Will's
strong arm went round her with a protecting air, which said, as
plainly as any words, that this big brother and small sister knew
how to love and help one another. It was a pleasant little picture,
all the pleasanter for its unconsciousness, and Tom found it both
suggestive and agreeable.
"Poor old Fan, she don't get much petting; maybe that 's what she
wants. I 'll try it and see, for she stands by me like a trump. If she
was a rosy, cosy little woman, like Polly, it would come easier,
though," thought Tom, as he meditatively ate his last nut, feeling
that fraternal affection could not be very difficult of
demonstration, to brothers blessed with pretty, good-tempered
sisters.
"I told Tom about the bad fellow who blew up the professor, and
he said he knew him, slightly; and I was so relieved, because I had
a kind of a feeling that it was Tom himself, you and Will laughed
so about it."
Maud had a queer way of going on with her own thoughts, and
suddenly coming out with whatever lay uppermost, regardless of
time, place, or company. As this remark fell from her, there was a
general smile, and Polly said, with mock solemnity, "It was a sad
thing, and I 've no doubt that misguided young man is very sorry
for it now."
"He looked perfectly bowed down with remorse last time I saw
him," said Will, regarding Tom with eyes full of fun, for Will was
a boy as well as a bookworm, and relished a joke as well as
scatter-brained Tom.
"He always is remorseful after a scrape, I 've understood, for he is
n't a very bad fellow, only his spirits are one too many for him, and
he is n't as fond of his book as another fellow I know."
"I 'm afraid he 'll he expelled if he don't mind," said Polly,
warningly.
"Should n't wonder if he was, he 's such an unlucky dog," answered
Tom, rather soberly.
"I hope he 'll remember that his friends will be very much
disappointed if he is. He might make them so proud and happy;
that I guess he will, for he is n't half as thoughtless as he makes
himself out," said Polly, looking across at Tom with such friendly
eyes that he was quite touched, though of course he did n't show it.
"Thank you, Polly; he may pull through, but I have my doubts.
Now old man, let us 'pud' along; it 's getting late for the chicken,"
he added, relapsing into the graceful diction with which a classical
education gifts its fortunate possessor.
Taking advantage of the moment while Will was wrestling with
his boots in the closet, and Maud was absorbed in packing her
apple into a large basket, Polly said to Tom in a low tone, "Thank
you very much, for being so kind to Will."
"Bless your heart, I have n't done anything; he 's such a proud
fellow he won't let me," answered Tom.
"But you do in many little ways; to-night, for example. Do you
think I don't know that the suit of clothes he 's just got would have
cost a good deal more, if your tailor had n't made them? He 's only
a boy, and don't understand things yet; but I know your way of
helping proud people; so that they don't find it out, and I do thank
you, Tom, so much."
"Oh, come, Polly, that won't do. What do you know about tailors
and college matters?" said Tom, looking as much confused as if
she had found him out in something reprehensible.
"I don't know much, and that 's the reason why I 'm grateful for
your kindness to Will. I don't care what stories they tell about you,
I 'm sure, you won't lead him into trouble, but keep him straight,
for my sake. You know I 've lost one brother, and Will takes
Jimmy's place to me now."
The tears in Polly's eyes as she said that made Tom vow a
tremendous vow within himself to stand by Will through thick and
thin, and "keep him straight for Polly's sake"; feeling all the time
how ill-fitted he was for such a task.
"I 'll do my best," he said, heartily, as he pressed the hand Polly
gave him, with a look which assured her that he felt the appeal to
his honor, and that henceforth the country lad was safe from all the
temptations Tom could have offered him.
"There! now I shall give that to mamma to take her pills in; it 's
just what she likes, and it pleases her to be thought of," said Maud,
surveying her gift with complacency, as she put on her things.
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