When he reached the play-room Polly was sitting in the swing, saying, very earnestly, "I always told you it was nice up in grandma's room, and now you see it is. I wish you 'd go oftener; she admires to have you, and likes to tell stories and do pleasant things, only she thinks you don't care for her quiet sort of fun. I do, anyway, and I think she 's the kindest, best old lady that ever lived, and I love her dearly!""I did n't say she was n't, only old people are sort of tedious and fussy, so I keep out of their way," said Fanny.
"Well, you ought not to, and you miss lots of pleasant times. My mother says we ought to be kind and patient and respectful to all old folks just because they are old, and I always mean to be.""Your mother 's everlastingly preaching," muttered Fan, nettled by the consciousness of her own shortcomings with regard to grandma.
"She don't preach!" cried Polly, firing up like a flash; "she only explains things to us, and helps us be good, and never scolds, and I 'd rather have her than any other mother in the world, though she don't wear velvet cloaks and splendid bonnets,so now!""Go it, Polly!" called Tom, who was gracefully hanging head downward from the bar put up for his special benefit.
"Polly 's mad! Polly 's mad!" sung Maud, skipping rope round the room.
"If Mr. Sydney could see you now he would n't think you such an angel any more," added Fanny, tossing a bean-bag and her head at the same time.
Polly was mad, her face was very red, her eyes very bright and her lips twitched, but she held her tongue and began to swing as hard as she could, fearing to say something she would be sorry for afterward. For a few minutes no one spoke, Tom whistled and Maud hummed but Fan and Polly were each soberly thinking of something, for they had reached an age when children, girls especially, begin to observe, contrast, and speculate upon the words, acts, manners, and looks of those about them. A good deal of thinking goes on in the heads of these shrewd little folks, and the elders should mind their ways, for they get criticised pretty sharply and imitated very closely.
Two little things had happened that day, and the influence of a few words, a careless action, was still working in the active minds of the girls.
Mr. Sydney had called, and while Fanny was talking with him she saw his eye rest on Polly, who sat apart watching the faces round her with the modest, intelligent look which many found so attractive. At that minute Madam Shaw came in, and stopped to speak to the little girl. Polly rose at once, and remained standing till the old lady passed on.
"Are you laughing at Polly's prim ways?" Fanny had asked, as she saw Mr. Sydney smile.
"No, I am admiring Miss Polly's fine manners," he answered in a grave, respectful tone, which had impressed Fanny very much, for Mr. Sydney was considered by all the girls as a model of good breeding, and that indescribable something which they called "elegance."Fanny wished she had done that little thing, and won that approving look, for she valued the young man's good opinion, because it was so hard to win, by her set at least. So, when Polly talked about old people, it recalled this scene and made Fan cross.
Polly was remembering how, when Mrs. Shaw came home that day in her fine visiting costume, and Maud ran to welcome her with unusual affection, she gathered up her lustrous silk and pushed the little girl away saying, impatiently, "Don't touch me, child, your hands are dirty." Then the thought had come to Polly that the velvet cloak did n't cover a right motherly heart, that the fretful face under the nodding purple plumes was not a tender motherly face, and that the hands in the delicate primrose gloves had put away something very sweet and precious. She thought of another woman, whose dress never was too fine for little wet cheeks to lie against, or loving little arms to press; whose face, in spite of many lines and the gray hairs above it, was never sour or unsympathetic when children's eyes turned towards it; and whose hands never were too busy, too full or too nice to welcome and serve the little sons and daughters who freely brought their small hopes and fears, sins and sorrows, to her, who dealt out justice and mercy with such wise love. "Ah, that 's a mother!" thought Polly, as the memory came warm into her heart, making her feel very rich, and pity Maud for being so poor.
This it was that caused such sudden indignation at Fanny's dreadful speech, and this it was that made quick-tempered Polly try to calm her wrath before she used toward Fanny's mother the disrespectful tone she so resented toward her own. As the swing came down after some dozen quick journeys to and fro, Polly seemed to have found a smile somewhere up aloft, for she looked toward Fan, saying pleasantly, as she paused a little in her airy exercise, "I 'm not mad now, shall I come and toss with you?""No, I 'll come and swing with you," answered Fanny, quick to feel the generous spirit of her friend.
"You are an angel, and I 'll never be so rude again," she added, as Polly's arm came round her, and half the seat was gladly offered.
"No, I ain't; but if I ever get at all like one, it will be 'mother's preaching' that did it," said Polly, with a happy laugh.
"Good for you, Polly Peacemaker," cried Tom, quoting his father, and giving them a grand push as the most appropriate way of expressing his approbation of the sentiment.
Nothing more was said; but from that day there slowly crept into the family more respect for grandma, more forbearance with her infirmities, more interest in her little stories, and many a pleasant gossip did the dear old lady enjoy with the children as they gathered round her fire, solitary so long.
