Polly Part 19

But she gave her little sister's hand an affectionate squeeze, which satisfied the hungry and exacting heart of its small owner for the present.

Meanwhile the enormous wreath progressed well, and presently took upon important position over the house doorway. As the daylight was getting dim, and as it would, in the estimation of the children, be the cruellest thing possible if the full glories of the wreath were not visible to the eyes of the strangers when they approached Sleepy Hollow, lamps were cunningly placed in positions where their full light could fall on the large "Welcome," which was almost the unaided work of the twins and their small brothers.

But now six o'clock was drawing near, and Polly and Firefly joined the rest of the children in the hall. The whole house was in perfect order; an excellent supper would be ready at any moment, and there was little doubt that when the strangers did appear they would receive a most hearty welcome.

"Wheels at last!" said Bunny, turning a somersault in the air.

"Hurrah! Three cheers for the barbarians!" sang out Firefly.

"I do hope Virginia will be beautiful," whispered Polly, under her breath.

Helen went and stood on the doorsteps. Polly suddenly raised a colored lamp, and waved it above her head.

"Welcome" smiled down from the enormous wreath, and shone on the features of each Maybright as the Doctor opened the door of the carriage, and helped a tall, slender girl, and a little boy in a black velvet suit, to get out.

"Our travelers are very hungry, Polly," he said, "and--and--very tired. Yes, I see you have prepared things nicely for them. But first of all they must have supper, and after that I shall prescribe bed.

Welcome, my dear children, to Sleepy Hollow! May it be a happy home to you both."

"Thank you," said the girl.

She had a pale face, a quant.i.ty of long light hair, and dreamy, sleepy eyes; the boy, on the contrary, had an alert and watchful expression; he clung to his sister, and looked in her face when she spoke.

"Do tell us what you are called," said Polly. "We are all just dying to know. Oh! I trust, I do trust that you are really Paul and Virginia. How perfectly lovely it would be if those were your real names."

The tall girl looked full into Polly's eyes, a strange, sweet, wistful light filled her own, her words came out musically.

"I am Flower," she said, "and this is David. I am thirteen years old, and David is eight. Father sent us away because after mother died there was no one to take care of us."

A sigh of intense interest and sympathy fell from the lips of all the young Maybrights.

"Come upstairs, Flower; we know quite well how to be sorry for you,"

said Helen.

She took the strange girl's hand, and led her up the broad staircase.

"I'll stay below," said David. "I'm not the least tired, and my hands don't want was.h.i.+ng. Who's the jolliest here? Couldn't we have a game of ball? I haven't played ball since I left Ballarat. Flower wouldn't let me. She said I might when I came here. She spoke about coming here all the time, and she always wanted to see your mother. She cried the whole of last night because your mother was dead. Now has n.o.body got a ball, and won't the jolliest begin?"

"I'll play with you, David," said Polly. "Now catch; there! once, twice, thrice. Aren't you starving? I want my tea, if you don't."

"Flower said I wasn't to ask for anything to eat now that your mother is dead," responded David. "She said it wasn't likely we'd stay, but that while we did I was to be on my good behavior. I hate being on my good behavior; but Flower's an awful mistress. Yes, of course, I'm starving."

"Well, come in to tea, then," said Polly, laughing. "Perhaps you will stay, and anyhow we are glad to have you for a little. Children, please don't stare so hard."

"I don't mind," said David. "They may stare if it pleases them; I rather like it."

"Like being stared at!" repeated Firefly, whose own sensitive little nature resented the most transient glance.

"Yes," responded David, calmly; "it shows that I'm admired; and I know that I'm a very handsome boy."

So he was, with dark eyes like a gipsy, and a splendid upright figure and bearing. Far from being the barbarian of Polly's imagination, he had some of the airs and graces of a born aristocrat. His calm remarks and utter coolness astonished the little Maybrights, who rather shrank away from him, and left him altogether to Polly's patronage.

At this moment Helen and the young Australian girl came down together.

David instantly trotted up to his sister.

"She thinks that perhaps we'll stay, Flower," pointing with his finger at Polly, "and in that case I needn't keep up my company manners, need I?"

"But you must behave well, David," responded Flower, "or the English nation will fancy we are not civilized."

She smiled in a lovely languid way at her brother, and looked round with calm indifference at the boys and girls who pressed close to her.

"Come and have tea," said Helen.

She placed Flower at her right hand. The Doctor took the head of the table, and the meal progressed more or less in silence. Flower was too lazy or too delicate to eat much. David spent all his time in trying to make Firefly laugh, and in avoiding the Doctor's penetrating glance. The Maybrights were too astonished at the appearance of their guests to feel thoroughly at ease. Polly had a sensation of things being somehow rather flat, and the Doctor wondered much in his inward soul how this new experiment would work.

CHAPTER II.

A YOUNG QUEEN.

It did not work well as far as Polly was concerned. Whatever she was at home, whatever her faults and failings, whatever her wild vagaries, or unreasonable moods, she somehow or other always managed to be first.

First in play, first in naughtiness, first at her lessons, the best musician, the best artist, the best housekeeper, the best originator of sports and frolics on all occasions, was Polly Maybright. From this position, however, she was suddenly dethroned. It was quite impossible for Polly to be first when Flower was in the room.

Flower Dalrymple had the ways and manners of a young queen. She was imperious, often ungracious, seldom obliging, but she had a knack of getting people to think first of her, of saying the sort of things which drew attention, and of putting every other little girl with whom she came into contact completely in the shade.

In reality, Polly was a prettier girl than Flower. Her eyes were brighter, her features more regular. But just as much in reality Polly could not hold a candle to Flower, for she had a sort of a languorous, slumberous, grace, which exactly suited her name; there was a kind of etherealness about her, an absolutely out-of-the-common look, which made people glance at her again and again, each time to discover how very lovely she was.

Flower was a perfect contrast to David, being as fair as he was dark.

Her face had a delicate, creamy shade, her eyes were large and light blue, the lashes and eyebrows being only a shade or two darker than her long, straight rather dull-looking, yellow hair. She always wore her hair straight down her back; she was very willowy and pliant in figure, and had something of the grace and coloring of a daffodil.

Flower had not been a week in the Maybright family before she contrived that all the arrangements in the house should be more or less altered to suit her convenience. She made no apparent complaint, and never put her wishes into words, still she contrived to have things done to please her. For instance, long before that week was out, Polly found herself deprived of the seat she had always occupied at meals by her father's side. Flower liked to sit near the Doctor, therefore she did so; she liked to slip her hand into his between the courses, and to look into his face with her wide-open, pathetic, sweet eyes. Flower could not touch coffee at breakfast, therefore by common consent the whole family adopted tea. In the morning-room Flower established herself in mother's deep arm-chair, hitherto consecrated by all rights and usages to Helen.

As to Polly, she was simply dethroned from her pedestal, her wittiest remarks fell flat, her raciest stories were received with languid interest. What were they compared to the thrilling adventures which the young Australian could tell when she pleased! Not, indeed, that Flower often pleased, she was not given to many words, her nature was thoroughly indolent and selfish, and only for one person would she ever really rouse and exert herself. This person was David; he wors.h.i.+pped her, and she loved him as deeply as it was in her nature to love any one. To all appearance, however, it mattered very little who, or how Flower loved. On all hands, every one fell in love with her. Even Polly resigned her favorite seat for her, even Helen looked without pain at mother's beloved chair when Flower's lissome figure filled it. The younger children were forever offering flowers and fruit at her shrine.

Nurse declared her a bonny, winsome thing, and greatest honor of all, allowed her to play with little Pearl, the baby, for a few minutes, when the inclination seized her. Before she was a week in the house, not a servant in the place but would have done anything for her, and even the Doctor so far succ.u.mbed to her charms as to p.r.o.nounce her a gracious and lovable creature.

"Although I can't make her out," he often said to himself, "I have an odd instinct which tells me that there is the sleeping lioness or the wild-cat hidden somewhere beneath all that languid, gracious carelessness. Poor little girl! she has managed to captivate us all, but I should not be surprised if she turned out more difficult and troublesome to manage than the whole of my seven daughters put together."

As Flower and David had been sent from Australia especially to be under the care and guidance of Mrs. Maybright, the Doctor felt more and more uncertain as to the expediency of keeping the children.

"It is difficult enough to manage a girl like Polly," he said to himself; "but when another girl comes to the house who is equally audacious and untamed--for my Polly is an untamed creature when all's said and done--how is a poor half-blind old doctor like myself to keep these two turbulent spirits in order? I am dreadfully afraid the experiment won't work; and yet--and yet 400 a year is sadly needed to add to the family purse just now."

The Doctor was pacing up and down his library while he meditated. The carpet in this part of the room was quite worn from the many times he walked up and down it. Like many another man, when he was perplexed or anxious he could not keep still. There came a light tap at the library door.

"Come in!" said the Doctor; and to his surprise Flower, looking more like a tall yellow daffodil than ever, in a soft dress of creamy Indian silk, opened the door and took a step or two into the room.

She looked half-shy, half-bold--a word would have sent her flying, or a word drawn her close to the kind Doctor's side.