Books: An Old fashioned Girl
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Louisa May Alcott >> An Old fashioned Girl
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"That song always makes me cry, and feel as if I had no right to be
so comfortable," said Belle, openly wiping her eyes on a crash
towel.
"Fortunately such cases are very rare," said another young lady,
who seldom read the newspapers.
"I wish they were, but I 'm afraid they are not; for only three weeks
ago, I saw a girl younger than any of us, and no worse, who tried to
destroy herself simply because she was so discouraged, sick, and
poor," said Polly.
"Do tell about her," cried Belle, eagerly.
Feeling that the song had paved the way for the story, and given
her courage to tell it, Polly did tell it, and must have done it well,
for the girls stopped work to listen, and when she ended, other eyes
beside warm-hearted Belle's were wet. Trix looked quite subdued;
Miss Perkins thawed to such a degree, that something glittered on
her hand as she bent over the pink pinafore again, better and
brighter than her biggest diamond; Emma got up and went to Polly
with a face full of affectionate respect, while Fanny, moved by a
sudden impulse, caught up a costly SSvres plate that stood on the
etagSre, and laying a five-dollar bill in it, passed it round, quoting
Polly's words, "Girls, I know you 'll like to help poor little Jenny
'begin again, and do better this time.' "
It was good to see how quickly the pretty purses were out, how
generously each gave of its abundance, and what hearty applause
broke from the girls, as Belle laid down her gold thimble, saying
with an April face, "There, take that; I never have any money,
somehow it won't stay with me, but I can't let the plate pass me this
time."
When Fanny brought the contributions to Polly, she just gathered it
up in her two hands with such a glad, grateful face, the girls
wished they had had more to give.
"I can't thank you enough," she said, with an eloquent little choke
in her voice. "This will help Jenny very much; but the way in
which it was done will do her more good than double the money,
because it will prove to her that she is n't without friends, and
make her feel that there is a place in the world for her. Let her
work for you in return for this; she don't ask alms, she only wants
employment and a little kindness, and the best charity we can
bestow is to see that she has both."
"I 'll give her as much sewing as she wants, and she can stay at our
house while she does it, if she needs a home," said Trix, in a spasm
of benevolence.
"She does n't need a home, thank you; Miss Mills has given half of
hers, and considers Jane her child," answered Polly, with proud
satisfaction in the fact.
"What an old dear!" cried Belle.
"I want to know her. May I?" whispered Emma.
"Oh, yes; I 'm glad to make her known to any one. She is a quiet
little old lady, but she does one heaps of good, and shows you how
to be charitable in the wisest way."
"Do tell us about it. I 'm sure I want to do my duty, but it 's such a
muddle, I don't know how," said Belle.
Then, quite naturally, the conversation fell upon the great work
that none should be too busy to think of, and which few are too
young or too poor to help on with their mite. The faces grew more
earnest, the fingers flew faster, as the quick young hearts and
brains took in the new facts, ideas, and plans that grew out of the
true stories, the sensible hints, the successful efforts which Polly
told them, fresh from the lips of Miss Mills; for, of late, Polly had
talked much with the good lady, and learned quickly the lessons
her unselfish life conveyed. The girls found this more interesting
than gossip, partly owing to its novelty, doubtless; but the
enthusiasm was sincere while it lasted, and did them good. Many
of them forgot all about it in a week, but Polly's effort was not lost,
for Emma, Belle, and Fanny remained firm friends to Jane, so
kindly helping her that the poor child felt as if she had indeed been
born again, into a new and happy world.
Not till long afterward did Polly see how much good this little
effort had done her, for the first small sacrifice of this sort leads
the way to others, and a single hand's turn given heartily to the
world's great work helps one amazingly with one's own small
tasks. Polly found this out as her life slowly grew easier and
brighter, and the beautiful law of compensation gave her better
purposes and pleasures than any she had lost. The parents of some
of her pupils were persons of real refinement, and such are always
quick to perceive the marks of culture in others, no matter where
they find them. These, attracted first by Polly's cheerful face,
modest manners, and faithful work, soon found in her something
more than a good teacher; they found a real talent for music, an
eager desire for helpful opportunities, and a heart grateful for the
kindly sympathy that makes rough places smooth. Fortunately
those who have the skill to detect these traits also possess the spirit
to appreciate and often the power to serve and develop them. In
ways so delicate that the most sensitive pride could not resent the
favor, these true gentlefolk showed Polly their respect and regard,
put many pleasures in her way, and when they paid her for her
work, gave her also the hearty thanks that takes away all sense of
degradation even from the humblest service, for money so earned
and paid sweetens the daily bread it buys, and makes the mutual
obligation a mutual benefit and pleasure.
A few such patrons did much for Polly, and the music she gave
them had an undertone of gratitude that left blithe echoes in those
great houses, which money could not buy.
Then, as her butterfly acquaintances deserted her, she found her
way into a hive of friendly bees, who welcomed her, and showed
her how to find the honey that keeps life sweet and wholesome.
Through Miss Mills, who was the counsellor and comforter of
several, Polly came to know a little sisterhood of busy, happy,
independent girls, who each had a purpose to execute, a talent to
develop, an ambition to achieve, and brought to the work patience
and perseverance, hope and courage. Here Polly found her place at
once, for in this little world love and liberty prevailed; talent,
energy, and character took the first rank; money, fashion, and
position were literally nowhere; for here, as in the big world
outside, genius seemed to blossom best when poverty was head
gardener. Young teachers, doing much work for little pay; young
artists, trying to pencil, paint, or carve their way to Rome; young
writers, burning to distinguish themselves; young singers,
dreaming of triumphs, great as those of Jenny Lind; and some who
tried to conquer independence, armed only with a needle, like poor
Jane. All these helped Polly as unconsciously as she helped them,
for purpose and principle are the best teachers we can have, and
the want of them makes half the women of America what they are,
restless, aimless, frivolous, and sick.
To outsiders that was a very hard-working and uneventful winter
to Polly. She thought so herself; but as spring came on, the seed of
new virtues, planted in the winter time, and ripened by the
sunshine of endeavor, began to bud in Polly's nature, betraying
their presence to others by the added strength and sweetness of her
character, long before she herself discovered these May flowers
that had blossomed for her underneath the snow.
CHAPTER XII FORBIDDEN FRUIT
"I 'M perfectly aching for some fun," said Polly to herself as she
opened her window one morning and the sunshine and frosty air
set her blood dancing and her eyes sparkling with youth, health,
and overflowing spirits. "I really must break out somewhere and
have a good time. It 's quite impossible to keep steady any longer.
Now what will I do?" Polly sprinkled crumbs to the doves, who
came daily to be fed, and while she watched the gleaming necks
and rosy feet, she racked her brain to devise some unusually
delightful way of enjoying herself, for she really had bottled up her
spirits so long, they were in a state of uncontrollable
effervescence.
"I 'll go to the opera," she suddenly announced to the doves. "It 's
expensive, I know, but it 's remarkably good, and music is such a
treat to me. Yes, I 'll get two tickets as cheap as I can, send a note
to Will, poor lad, he needs fun as much as I do, and we 'll go and
have a nice time in some corner, as Charles Lamb and his sister
used to."
With that Polly slammed down the window, to the dismay of her
gentle little pensioners, and began to fly about with great energy,
singing and talking to herself as if it was impossible to keep quiet.
She started early to her first lesson that she might have time to buy
the tickets, hoping, as she put a five-dollar bill into her purse, that
they would n't be very high, for she felt that she was not in a mood
to resist temptation. But she was spared any struggle, for when she
reached the place, the ticket office was blocked up by eager
purchasers and the disappointed faces that turned away told Polly
there was no hope for her.
"Well, I don't care, I 'll go somewhere, for I will have my fun," she
said with great determination, for disappointment only seemed to
whet her appetite. But the playbills showed her nothing inviting
and she was forced to go away to her work with the money burning
her pocket and all manner of wild schemes floating in her head. At
noon, instead of going home to dinner, she went and took an ice,
trying to feet very gay and festive all by herself. It was rather a
failure, however, and after a tour of the picture shops she went to
give Maud a lesson, feeling that it was very hard to quench her
longings, and subside into a prim little music teacher.
Fortunately she did not have to do violence to her feelings very
long, for the first thing Fanny said to her was: "Can you go?"
"Where?"
"Did n't you get my note?"
"I did n't go home to dinner."
"Tom wants us to go to the opera to-night and " Fan got no further,
for Polly uttered a cry of rapture and clasped her hands.
"Go? Of course I will. I 've been dying to go all day, tried to get
tickets this morning and could n't, been fuming about it ever since,
and now oh, how splendid!" And Polly could not restrain an
ecstatic skip, for this burst of joy rather upset her.
"Well, you come to tea, and we 'll dress together, and go all
comfortable with Tom, who is in a heavenly frame of mind
to-day."
"I must run home and get my things," said Polly, resolving on the
spot to buy the nicest pair of gloves the city afforded.
"You shall have my white cloak and any other little rigging you
want. Tommy likes to have his ladies a credit to him, you know,"
said Fanny, departing to take a beauty sleep.
Polly instantly decided that she would n't borrow Becky's best
bonnet, as she at first intended, but get a new one, for in her
present excited state, no extravagance seemed too prodigal in
honor of this grand occasion. I am afraid that Maud's lesson was
not as thorough as it should have been, for Polly's head was such a
chaos of bonnets, gloves, opera-cloaks and fans, that Maud
blundered through, murdering time and tune at her own sweet will.
The instant it was over Polly rushed away and bought not only the
kids but a bonnet frame, a bit of illusion, and a pink crape rose,
which had tempted her for weeks in a certain shop window, then
home and to work with all the skill and speed of a distracted
milliner.
"I 'm rushing madly into expense, I 'm afraid, but the fit is on me
and I 'll eat bread and water for a week to make up for it. I must
look nice, for Tom seldom takes me and ought to be gratified
when he does. I want to do like other girls, just for once, and enjoy
myself without thinking about right and wrong. Now a bit of pink
ribbon to tie it with, and I shall be done in time to do up my best
collar," she said, turning her boxes topsy-turvy for the necessary
ribbon in that delightful flurry which young ladies feel on such
occasions.
It is my private opinion that the little shifts and struggles we poor
girls have to undergo beforehand give a peculiar relish to our fun
when we get it. This fact will account for the rapturous mood in
which Polly found herself when, after making her bonnet, washing
and ironing her best set, blacking her boots and mending her fan,
she at last, like Consuelo, "put on a little dress of black silk" and,
with the smaller adornments pinned up in a paper, started for the
Shaws', finding it difficult to walk decorously when her heart was
dancing in her bosom.
Maud happened to be playing a redowa up in the parlor, and Polly
came prancing into the room so evidently spoiling for a dance that
Tom, who was there, found it impossible to resist catching her
about the waist, and putting her through the most intricate
evolutions till Maud's fingers gave out.
"That was splendid! Oh, Tom, thank you so much for asking me
to-night. I feel just like having a regular good time," cried Polly,
when she stopped, with her hat hanging round her neck and her
hair looking as if she had been out in a high wind.
"Glad of it. I felt so myself and thought we 'd have a jolly little
party all in the family," said Tom, looking much gratified at her
delight.
"Is Trix sick?" asked Polly.
"Gone to New York for a week."
"Ah, when the cat's away the mice will play."
"Exactly. Come and have another turn."
Before they could start, however, the awful spectacle of a little dog
trotting out of the room with a paper parcel in his mouth, made
Polly clasp her hands with the despairing cry: "My bonnet! Oh, my
bonnet!"
"Where? what? which?" And Tom looked about him, bewildered.
"Snip's got it. Save it! save it!"
"I will!" And Tom gave chase with more vigor than discretion.
Snip, evidently regarding it as a game got up for his special
benefit, enjoyed the race immensely and scampered all over the
house, shaking the precious parcel like a rat while his master ran
and whistled, commanded and coaxed, in vain. Polly followed,
consumed with anxiety, and Maud laughed till Mrs. Shaw sent
down to know who was in hysterics. A piteous yelp from the lower
regions at last announced that the thief was captured, and Tom
appeared bearing Snip by the nape of the neck in one hand and
Polly's cherished bonnet in the other.
"The little scamp was just going to worry it when I grabbed him. I
'm afraid he has eaten one of your gloves. I can't find it, and this
one is pretty well chewed up," said Tom, bereaving Snip of the
torn kid, to which he still pertinaciously clung.
"Serves me right," said Polly with a groan. "I 'd no business to get a
new pair, but I wanted to be extra gorgeous to-night, and this is my
punishment for such mad extravagance."
"Was there anything else?" asked Tom.
"Only my best cuffs and collar. You 'll probably find them in the
coal-bin," said Polly, with the calmness of despair.
"I saw some little white things on the dining-room floor as I raced
through. Go get them, Maud, and we 'll repair damages," said Tom,
shutting the culprit into the boot closet, where he placidly rolled
himself up and went to sleep.
"They ain't hurt a bit," proclaimed Maud, restoring the lost
treasures.
"Neither is my bonnet, for which I 'm deeply grateful," said Polly,
who had been examining it with a solicitude which made Tom's
eyes twinkle.
"So am I, for it strikes me that is an uncommonly 'nobby' little
affair," he said approvingly. Tom had a weakness for pale pink
roses, and perhaps Polly knew it.
"I 'm afraid it 's too gay," said Polly, with a dubious look.
"Not a bit. Sort of bridal, you know. Must be becoming. Put it on
and let 's see."
"I would n't for the world, with my hair all tumbling down. Don't
look at me till I 'm respectable, and don't tell any one how I 've
been acting. I think I must be a little crazy to-night," said Polly,
gathering up her rescued finery and preparing to go and find Fan.
"Lunacy is mighty becoming, Polly. Try it again," answered Tom,
watching her as she went laughing away, looking all the prettier
for her dishevelment. "Dress that girl up, and she 'd be a raving,
tearing beauty," added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look her
into the parlor under his arm.
Polly heard it and instantly resolved to be as "raving and as
tearing" as her means would allow, "just for one night," she said as
she peeped over the banisters, glad to see that the dance and the
race had taken the "band-boxy" air out of Tom's elegant array.
I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of
my readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by
expressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a
little story about Young America, for Young America, I feel bound
to depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powers
permit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, "Well, I
dare say it 's all very prim and proper, but it is n't a bit like us," and
never hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of "An
Old-Fashioned Girl" the dirtiest in the library.
The friends had a social "cup o' tea" upstairs, which Polly
considered the height of luxury, and then each took a mirror and
proceeded to prink to her heart's content. The earnestness with
which Polly made her toilet that night was delightful to behold.
Feeling in a daring mood, she released her pretty hair from the
braids in which she usually wore it and permitted the curls to
display themselves in all their brown abundance, especially several
dangerous little ones about the temples and forehead. The putting
on of the rescued collar and cuffs was a task which absorbed her
whole mind. So was the settling of a minute bit of court-plaster
just to the left of the dimple in her chin, an unusual piece of
coquetry in which Polly would not have indulged, if an almost
invisible scratch had not given her an excuse for doing it. The
white, down-trimmed cloak, with certain imposing ornaments on
the hood, was assumed with becoming gravity and draped with
much advancing and retreating before the glass, as its wearer
practised the true Boston gait, elbows back, shoulders forward, a
bend and a slide, occasionally varied by a slight skip. But when
that bonnet went on, Polly actually held her breath till it was safely
landed and the pink rose bloomed above the smooth waves of hair
with what Fanny called "a ravishing effect." At this successful
stage of affairs Polly found it impossible to resist the loan of a pair
of gold bands for the wrists and Fanny's white fan with the little
mirror in the middle.
"I can put them in my pocket if I feel too much dressed," said Polly
as she snapped on the bracelets, but after a wave or two of the fan
she felt that it would be impossible to take them off till the
evening was over, so enticing was their glitter.
Fanny also lent her a pair of three-button gloves, which completed
her content, and when Tom greeted her with an approving, "Here 's
a sight for gods and men! Why, Polly, you 're gorgeous!" she felt
that her "fun" had decidedly begun.
"Would n't Polly make a lovely bride?" said Maud, who was
revolving about the two girls, trying to decide whether she would
have a blue or a white cloak when she grew up and went to operas.
"Faith, and she would! Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs.
Sydney," added Tom, advancing with his wedding-reception bow
and a wicked look at Fanny.
"Go away! How dare you?" cried Polly, growing much redder than
her rose.
"If we are going to the opera to-night, perhaps we 'd better start, as
the carriage has been waiting some time," observed Fan coolly,
and sailed out of the room in an unusually lofty manner.
"Don't you like it, Polly?" whispered Tom, as they went down
stairs together.
"Very much."
"The deuce you do!"
"I 'm so fond of music, how can I help it?
"I 'm talking about Syd."
"Well, I 'm not."
"You 'd better try for him."
"I 'll think of it."
"Oh, Polly, Polly, what are you coming to?"
"A tumble into the street, apparently," answered Polly as she
slipped a little on the step, and Tom stopped in the middle of his
laugh to pilot her safely into the carriage, where Fanny was already
seated.
"Here 's richness!" said Polly to herself as she rolled away, feeling
as Cinderella probably did when the pumpkin-coach bore her to
the first ball, only Polly had two princes to think about, and poor
Cinderella, on that occasion, had not even one. Fanny did n't seem
inclined to talk much, and Tom would go on in such a ridiculous
manner that Polly told him she would n't listen and began to hum
bits of the opera. But she heard every word, nevertheless, and
resolved to pay him for his impertinence as soon as possible by
showing him what he had lost.
Their seats were in the balcony, and hardly were they settled,
when, by one of those remarkable coincidences which are
continually occurring in our youth, Mr. Sydney and Fanny's old
friend Frank Moore took their places just behind them.
"Oh, you villain! You did it on purpose," whispered Polly as she
turned from greeting their neighbors and saw a droll look on Tom's
face.
"I give you my word I did n't. It 's the law of attraction, don't you
see?"
"If Fan likes it, I don't care."
"She looks resigned, I think."
She certainly did, for she was talking and laughing in the gayest
manner with Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly as
if he did n't quite understand how the gray grub got so suddenly
transformed into a white butterfly. It is a well-known fact that
dress plays a very important part in the lives of most women and
even the most sensible cannot help owning sometimes how much
happiness they owe to a becoming gown, gracefully arranged hair,
or a bonnet which brings out the best points in their faces and puts
them in a good humor. A great man was once heard to say that
what first attracted him to his well-beloved wife was seeing her in
a white muslin dress with a blue shawl on the chair behind her.
The dress caught his eye, and, stopping to admire that, the wearer's
intelligent conversation interested his mind, and in time, the
woman's sweetness won his heart. It is not the finest dress which
does the most execution, I fancy, but that which best interprets
individual taste and character. Wise people understand this, and
everybody is more influenced by it than they know, perhaps. Polly
was not very wise, but she felt that every one about her found
something more attractive than usual in her and modestly
attributed Tom's devotion, Sydney's interest, and Frank's
undisguised admiration, to the new bonnet or, more likely, to that
delightful combination of cashmere, silk, and swan's-down, which,
like Charity's mantle, seemed to cover a multitude of sins in other
people's eyes and exalt the little music teacher to the rank of a
young lady.
Polly scoffed at this sort of thing sometimes, but to-night she
accepted it without a murmur rather enjoyed it in fact, let her
bracelets shine before the eyes of all men, and felt that it was good
to seem comely in their sight. She forgot one thing, however: that
her own happy spirits gave the crowning charm to a picture which
every one liked to see a blithe young girl enjoying herself with all
her heart. The music and the light, costume and company, excited
Polly and made many things possible which at most times she
would never have thought of saying or doing. She did not mean to
flirt, but somehow "it flirted itself" and she could n't help it, for,
once started, it was hard to stop, with Tom goading her on, and
Sydney looking at her with that new interest in his eyes. Polly's
flirting was such a very mild imitation of the fashionable thing that
Trix & Co. would not have recognized it, but it did very well for a
beginner, and Polly understood that night wherein the fascination
of it lay, for she felt as if she had found a new gift all of a sudden,
and was learning how to use it, knowing that it was dangerous, yet
finding its chief charm in that very fact.
Tom did n't know what to make of her at first, though he thought
the change uncommonly becoming and finally decided that Polly
had taken his advice and was "setting her cap for Syd," as he
gracefully expressed it. Sydney, being a modest man, thought
nothing of the kind, but simply fancied that little Polly was
growing up to be a very charming woman. He had known her since
her first visit and had always liked the child; this winter he had
been interested in the success of her plans and had done what he
could to help them, but he never thought of failing in love with
Polly till that night. Then he began to feel that he had not fully
appreciated his young friend; that she was such a bright and
lovable girl, it was a pity she should not always be gay and pretty,
and enjoy herself; that she would make a capital wife for
somebody, and perhaps it was about time to think of "settling," as
his sister often said. These thoughts came and went as he watched
the white figure in front, felt the enchantment of the music, and
found everybody unusually blithe and beautiful. He had heard the
opera many times, but it had never seemed so fine before, perhaps
because he had never happened to have had an ingenuous young
face so near him in which the varying emotions born of the music,
and the romance it portrayed, came and went so eloquently that it
was impossible to help reading them. Polly did not know that this
was why he leaned down so often to speak to her, with an
expression which she did not understand but liked very much
nevertheless.
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