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Read books online » Fiction » Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade (rooftoppers .TXT) 📖

Book online «Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade (rooftoppers .TXT) 📖». Author L. T. Meade



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great rough woman who stood by her side.

Flower’s utter and fearless indifference to even the possibility of danger had much the same effect on Mrs. Jones that it had upon her son. They both owned to a latent feeling of uneasiness in her presence. Had she showed the least trace of fear; had she dreaded them, or tried in any way to soften them, they would have known how to manage her. But Flower addressed them much as she would have done menials in her kitchen at home. The mother, as well as the son, muttered under her breath—“Never see’d such a gel!” She dropped the baby into Flower’s outstretched arms, and answered her query in a less surly tone than usual.

“For sure night air is bad for babes, and this little ’un is young. Yes, werry young and purty.”

The woman pulled aside the white fluffy shawl; two soft clear brown eyes looked up at her, and a little mouth was curved to a radiant smile.

“Fore sure she’s purty,” said the woman. “Look, Patrick. She minds me o’—well, never mind. Missy, it ain’t good for a babe like that to be out in the night air. You’re best in the house, and so is the babe. The dawgs shan’t touch yer. Come into the house, and I’ll give yer what supper’s going, and the babe, pretty crittur, shall have a drink of milk.”

“I would not injure the baby,” said Flower. She held both arms firm round it, and entered the smoky, dismal hut.

The wife of Micah Jones moved a stool in front of the fire, pushed Flower rather roughly down on it, and then proceeded to cut thick hunches of sour bread and cheese. This was quite the coarsest food Flower had ever eaten, and yet she never thought anything more delicious. While she ate the woman sat down opposite her.

“I’ll take the babe now and feed it,” she said. “The pretty dear must be hungry.”[Pg 107]

It was not little Pearl’s way to cry. It was her fashion to look tranquilly into all faces, and to take calmly every event, whether adverse or otherwise. When she looked at Flower she smiled, and she smiled again into the face of the rough woman who, in consequence, fed her tenderly with the best she had to give.

“Is the soup done?” said the rough man, suddenly coming forward. “It’s soup I’m arter. It’s soup as’ll put life into Miss, and give her a mind to walk them miles to the nearest town.”

The woman laughed back at her son.

“The soup’s in the pot,” she said. “You can give it a stir, Pat, if you will. Nathaniel will be in by-and-by, and he’ll want his share. But you can take a bowl now, if you like, and give one to Missy.”

“Ay,” said the man, “soup’s good; puts life into a body.”

He fetched two little yellow bowls filled one for Flower, stirring it first with a pewter spoon.

“This’ll put life into you, Miss,” he said.

He handed the bowl of soup to the young girl. All this time the woman was bending over the baby. Suddenly she raised her head.

“’Tis a bonny babe,” she said. “Ef I was you, Pat, I wouldn’t stir Missy’s soup. I’d give her your own bowl. I has no quarrel with Miss, and the babe is fair. Give her your own soup, Patrick.”

“It’s all right, mother, Miss wouldn’t eat as much as in my bowl. You ain’t ’ungry enough for that, be you, Miss?”

“I am very hungry,” said Flower, who was gratefully drinking the hot liquid. “I could not touch this food if I was not very hungry. If I want more soup I suppose I can have some more from the pot where this was taken. What is the matter, woman? What are you staring at me for?”

“I think nought at all of you,” said the woman, frowning, and drawing back, for Flower’s tone was very rude. “But the babe is bonny. Here, take her back, she’s like—but never mind. You’ll be sleepy, maybe, and ’ud like to rest a bit. I meant yer no harm, but Patrick’s powerful, and he and Nat, they does what they likes. They’re the sons of Micah Jones, and he was a strong man in his day. You’d like to sleep, maybe, Missy. Here, Patrick, take the bowl from the girl’s hand.”

“I do feel very drowsy,” said Flower. “I suppose it is from being out all day. This hut is smoky and dirty, but I’ll just have a doze for five minutes. Please, Patrick, wake me at the end of five minutes, for I must, whatever happens, reach the nearest town before night.”

As Flower spoke her eyes closed, and the woman, laying her back on some straw, put the baby into her arms.

“She’ll sleep sound, pretty dear,” she said. “Ef I was you I wouldn’t harm her, just for the sake of the babe,” she concluded.

“Why, mother, what’s took you? I won’t hurt Missy. It’s her own fault ef she runs away, and steals the baby. That baby belongs to the doctor what lives in the Hollow; it’s nought special, and you needn’t be took up with it. Ah, here comes Nathaniel. Nat, I’ve found a lass wandering on the moor, and I brought her home, and now the mother don’t want us to share the booty.”

Nathaniel Jones was a man of very few words indeed. He had a fiercer, wilder eye than his brother, and his evidently was the dominant and ruling spirit.

“The moon’s rising,” he said; “she’ll be at her full in half an hour. Do your dooty, mother, for we must be out of this, bag and baggage, in half an hour.”

Without a word or a sigh, or even a glance of remorse, Mrs. Jones took the cap from Flower’s head, and feeling around her neck discovered the gold chain which held the little bag of valuables. Without opening this she slipped it into her pocket. Flower’s dainty shoes were then removed, and the woman looked covetously at the long, fine, cloth dress, but shook her head over it.

“I’d wake her if I took it,” she said.

“No, you wouldn’t, I drugged the soup well,” said Pat.

“Well, anyhow, I’ll leave her her dress. There’s nought more but a handkerchief with a bit of lace on it.”

“Take the baby’s shawl,” said Nathaniel, “and let us be off. If the moon goes down we won’t see the track. Here, mother, I’ll help myself to the wrap.”

“No, you won’t,” said the woman. “You don’t touch the babe with the pale face and the smile of Heaven. I’m ready; let’s go.”

The dogs were called, and the entire party strode in single file along a narrow path, which led away in a westerly direction over Peg-Top Moor.

[Pg 108] CHAPTER VI. WITHOUT HER TREASURE.

“There is a great fuss made about it all,” said Polly.

This was her remark when her father left the pleasant picnic dinner and drove away over the moor in search of Flower.

“There is a great fuss made over it all. What is Flower more than any other girl? Why should she rule us all, and try to make things uncomfortable for us? No, David, you need not look at me like that. If Flower has got silly Australian notions in her head, she had better get rid of them as fast as possible. She is living with English people now, and English people all the world over won’t put up with nonsense.”

“It isn’t Flower’s ways I mean,” said David. “Her ways and her thoughts aren’t much, but it’s—it’s when she gets[Pg 109] into a passion. There’s no use talking about it—you have done it now, Polly!—but Flower’s passions are awful.”

David’s eyes filled slowly with tears.

“Oh, you are a cry-baby,” said Polly. She knew she was making herself disagreeable all round. In her heart she admired and even loved David; but nothing would induce her to say she was sorry for any part she had taken in Flower’s disappearance.

“Everything is as tiresome as possible,” she said, addressing her special ally, Maggie. “There, Mag, you need not stare at me. Your brain will get as small as ever again if you don’t take care, and I know staring in that stupid way you have is particularly weakening to the brain. You had better help George to pack up, for I suppose Nell is right, and we must all begin to think of getting home. Oh, dear, what a worry it is to have to put up with the whims of other people. Yes, I understand at last why father hesitated to allow the strangers to come here.”

“I wouldn’t grumble any more, if I were you, Polly,” said Helen. “See how miserable David looks. I do hope father will soon find Flower. I did not know that David was so very fond of her.”

“David is nervous,” retorted Polly, shortly. Then she turned to and packed in a vigorous manner, and very soon after the little party started on their return walk home. It was decidedly a dull walk. Polly’s gay spirits were fitful and forced; the rest of the party did not attempt to enjoy themselves. David lagged quite behind the others; and poor Maggie confided to George that somehow or other, she could not tell why, they were all turning their eyes reproachful-like on her. The sun had gone in now in the heavens, and the children, who had no sunshine in their hearts just then, had a vivid consciousness that it was late autumn, and that the summer was quite at an end.

As they neared the rise in the moor which hid Sleepy Hollow from view, David suddenly changed his position from the rear to the van. As they approached the house he stooped down, picked up a small piece of paper, looked at it, uttered a cry of fear and recognition, and ran off as fast as ever he could to the house.

“What a queer boy David is!” was on Polly’s lips; but she could scarcely say the words before he came out again. His face was deadly white, he shook all over, and the words he tried to say only trembled on his lips.

“What is it, David?” said the twins, running up to him.

“She’ll believe me now,” said David.

He panted violently, his teeth chattered.

“Oh! David, you frighten us! What can be the matter? Polly, come here! Nell, come and tell us what is the matter with David.”

The elder girls, and the rest of the children, collected in the porch. Polly, the tallest of all, looked over the heads of[Pg 110] the others. She caught sight of David’s face, and a sudden pain, a queer sense of fear, and the awakening of a late remorse, filled her breast.

“What is it, David?” she asked, with the others; but her voice shook, and was scarcely audible.

“She’s done it!” said David. “The baby’s gone! It’s Flower! She was in one of her passions, and she has taken the baby away. I said she wasn’t like other girls. Nurse thinks perhaps the baby’ll die. What is it?—oh, Polly! what is it!” For Polly had given one short scream, and, pushing David and every one aside, rushed wildly into the house.

She did not hear the others calling after her; she heard nothing but a surging as of great waves in her ears, and David’s words echoing along the passages and up the stairs “Perhaps the baby will die!” She did not see her father, who held out his arms to detain her. She pushed Alice aside without knowing that she touched her. In a twinkling she was at the nursery door; in a twinkling she was kneeling by the empty cot, and clasping the little frilled pillow on which baby’s head used to rest passionately to her lips.

“It’s true, then!” she gasped, at last. “I know now what David meant; I know now why he warned me. Oh Nursie! Nursie! it’s my fault!”

“No, no, my darling!” said Nurse; “it’s that dreadful young lady. But she’ll bring her back. Sure, what else could she do, lovey? She’ll bring the little one back, and, by the blessing of the good God, she’ll be none the worse for this. Don’t take on so, Miss Polly! Don’t look like that, dear! Why, your looks fairly scare me.”

“I’ll be better in a minute,” said Polly. “This is no time for feelings. I’ll be quiet in a minute. Have you got any cold water? There’s such a horrid loud noise in my ears.”

She rushed across the room, poured a quantity of water into a basin, and laved her face and head.

“Now I can think,” she said. “What did

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