Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade (the lemonade war series .txt) 📗

It was quite early on the following Monday morning when a light tap was heard outside the door of the room where Helen and Polly slept. It was a very light, modest, and uncertain tap, and it has not the smallest effect upon Helen, who lay in soft slumber, her pretty eyes closed, her gentle face calm and rounded and child-like, and the softest breathing coming from her rosy, parted lips.

Another little girl, however, was not asleep. At that modest tap up sprang a curly head, two dark, bright eyes opened wide, two white feet sprang quickly but noiselessly on to the floor, and Polly had opened the bed-room door wide to admit the short, dumpy, but excited little person of Maggie, the kitchen-maid.

“She’s a-going, Miss Polly—she’s a-packing her bandbox now, and putting the strap on. She’s in a hawful temper, but she’ll be out of the house in less than half an hour. There’s a beautiful fire in the kitchen, Miss, and the pan for frying bacon is polished up so as you could ’most see yourself in it. And the egg-saucepan is there all ’andy, and the kettle fizzing and sputtering. I took cook up her breakfast, but she said she didn’t want none of our poisonous messes, and she’d breakfast with her cousin in the village if we’d no objection. She’ll be gone in no time now, Miss Polly, and I’m a-wanting to know when you’ll be a-coming down stairs.”

“I’m going to dress immediately, Maggie,” said Polly. “I’ve scarcely slept all night, for this is an anxious moment for me. I’ll join you in half an hour at the latest, Maggie, and have lots of saucepans and frying-pans and gridirons ready. Keep the fire well up too, and see that the oven is hot. There, fly away, I’ll join you soon.”

Maggie, who was only sixteen herself, almost skipped down the passage. After the iron reign of Mrs. Power, to work for Polly seemed like play to her.

“She’s a duck,” she said to herself, “a real cozy duck of a young lady. Oh, my word, won’t we spin through the stores this week! Won’t we just!”

Meanwhile Polly was hastily getting into her clothes. She[Pg 33] did not wish to wake Helen, for she was most anxious that no one should know that on the first morning of her housekeeping she had arisen soon after six o’clock. Her plans were all laid beforehand, and a wonderfully methodical and well arranged programme, considering her fourteen years, was hers; she was all agog with eagerness to carry it out.

“Oh, won’t they have a breakfast this morning,” she said to herself. “Won’t they open their eyes, and won’t Bob and Bunny look greedy. And Firefly—I must watch Firefly over those hot cakes, or she may make herself sick. Poor father and Nell—they’ll both be afraid at first that I’m a little too lavish and inclined to be extravagant, but they’ll see by-and-by, and they’ll acknowledge deep down in their hearts that there never was such a housekeeper as Polly.”

As the little maid dreamed these pleasant thoughts she scrambled somewhat untidily into her clothes, gave her hair a somewhat less careful brush than usual, and finally knelt down to say her morning prayer. Helen still slept, and Polly by a sudden impulse chose to kneel by Helen’s bed and not her own. She pressed her curly head against the mattress, and eagerly whispered her petitions. She was excited and sanguine, for this was to her a moment of triumph; but as she prayed a feeling of rest and yet of longing overpowered her.

“Oh, I am happy to-day,” she murmured—“but oh, mother, oh, mother, I’d give everything in all the wide world to have you back again! I’d live on bread and water—I’d spend years in a garret just for you to kiss me once again, mother, mother!”

Helen stirred in her sleep, for Polly’s last impulsive words were spoken aloud.

“Has mother come back?” she asked.

Her eyes were closed, she was dreaming. Polly bent down and answered her.

“No,” she said. “It is only me—the most foolish of all her children, who wants her so dreadfully.”

Helen sighed, and turned her head uneasily, and Polly, wiping away some moisture from her eyes, ran out of the room.

Her housekeeping apron was on, her precious money box was under her arm, the keys of the linen-press jingled against a thimble and a couple of pencils in the front pocket of the apron. Polly was going down stairs to fulfill her great mission; it was impossible for her spirits long to be downcast. The house was deliciously still, for only the servants were up at present, but the sun sent in some rays of brightness at the large lobby windows, and the little girl laughed aloud in her glee.

“Good morning, sun! it is nice of you to smile at me the first morning of my great work. It is very good-natured of you to come instead of sending that disagreeable friend of yours, Mr. Rain. Oh, how delicious it is to be up early.[Pg 34] Why, it is not half-past six yet—oh, what a breakfast I shall prepare for father!”

In the kitchen, which was a large, cheerful apartment looking out on the vegetable garden, Polly found her satellite, Maggie, on the very tiptoe of expectation.

“I has laid the servants’ breakfast in the ’all, Miss Polly; I thought as you shouldn’t be bothered with them, with so to speak such a lot on your hands this morning. So I has laid it there, and lit a fire for them, and all Jane has to do when she’s ready is to put the kettle on, for the tea’s on the table in the small black caddy, so there’ll be no worriting over them. And ef you please, Miss Polly, I made bold to have a cup of tea made and ready for you, Miss—here it is, if you please, Miss, and a cut off the brown home-made loaf.”

“Delicious,” said Polly; “I really am as hungry as possible, although I did not know it until I saw this nice brown bread-and-butter. Why, you have splendid ideas in you, Maggie; you’ll make a first-rate cook yet. But now”—here the young housekeeper thought it well to put on a severe manner—“I must know what breakfast you have arranged for the servants’ hall. It was good-natured of you to think of saving me trouble, Maggie, but please understand that during this week you do nothing on your own responsibility. I am the housekeeper, and although I don’t say I am old, I am quite old enough to be obeyed.”

“Very well, Miss,” said Maggie, who had gone to open her oven, and poke up the fire while Polly was speaking; “it’s a weight off my shoulders, Miss, for I wasn’t never one to be bothered with thinking. Mother says as I haven’t brains as would go on the top of a sixpenny-bit, so what’s to be expected of me, Miss. There, the oven’s all of a beautiful glow, and ’ull bake lovely. You was asking what breakfast I has put in the servants’ ’all—well, cold bacon and plenty of bread, and a good pat of the cooking butter. Why, Miss Polly, oh, lor, what is the matter, Miss?”

“Only that you have done very wrong, Maggie,” said Polly. “You would not like to have lots of good things going up to the dining-room, and have no share yourself. I call it selfish of you, Maggie, for of course you knew you would be in the kitchen with me, and would be sure to come in for bits. Cold bacon, indeed! Poor servants, they’re not likely to care for my housekeeping if that is all I provide for them! No, Maggie, when I made out my programme, I thought of the servants as well as the family. I will just refer to my tablets, Maggie, and see what breakfast I arranged for the hall for Monday morning.”

While Polly was speaking Maggie opened her eyes and mouth wider and wider and when the young lady read aloud from her tablets she could not suppress an expostulatory “oh!”

“Monday—kitchen breakfast,” read Polly—“Bacon, eggs, marmalade, sardines. Hot coffee, fresh rolls, if possible.”[Pg 35]

“My word, but that is wasteful,” said Maggie.

Polly’s cheeks flushed. She glanced at her small handmaid, raised her hand in a reproving manner, and continued to read—

“Dining-room breakfast: Hot scones, baked muffins, eggs and bacon, deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, a dish of kippered herrings, marmalade, honey, jam, tea and coffee. Oh, and chocolate for Firefly.”

“My word, Miss,” again exclaimed Maggie. “It’s seven o’clock now, and the Doctor likes his breakfast sharp on the table at eight. If we has to get all this ready in an hour we had better fly round and lose no more time. I’ll see to the ’all, bless your kind ’eart, Miss Polly, but we’d better get on with the dining-room breakfast, or there’ll be nothing ready in anything like time. Will you mix up the cakes, Miss Polly, while I sees to the kidneys, and to the bacon and eggs, and the scrambled eggs, and the kippers. My word, but there’ll be a power more sent up than can be eaten. But whatever goes wrong we should have the cakes in the oven, Miss Polly.”

Polly did not altogether approve of Maggie’s tone, but time did press; the kitchen clock already pointed to five minutes past seven; it was much easier to write out a programme upstairs at one’s leisure in the pleasant morning-room than to carry it out in a hurry, in the hot kitchen, particularly when one’s own knowledge was entirely theoretical, not practical. Yes, the kitchen was very hot, and time never seemed to fly so fast.

“First of all, open the window, Maggie; it is wrong to have rooms so hot as this,” said the young housekeeper, putting on her most authoritative air.

“No, Miss, that I mustn’t,” said Maggie, firmly. “You’d cool down the oven in less than five minutes. Now, shall