An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

work, and sewing away with an energy that made the gray curls

vibrate.

“Saint Mehitable, I call her. Now, there is a rich woman who knew

how to get happiness out of her money,” said Polly, as they walked

away. “She was poor till she was nearly fifty; then a comfortable

fortune was left her, and she knew just how to use it. That house

was given her, but instead of living in it all alone, she filled it with

poor gentlefolks who needed neat, respectable homes, but could n’t

get anything comfortable for their little money. I ‘m one of them,

and I know the worth of what she does for me. Two old widow

ladies live below me, several students overhead, poor Mrs. Kean

and her lame boy have the back parlor, and Jenny the little

bedroom next Miss Mills. Each pays what they can; that ‘s

independent, and makes us feel better but that dear woman does a

thousand things that money can’t pay for, and we feel her influence

all through the house. I ‘d rather be married, and have a home of

my own; but next to that, I should like to be an old maid like Miss

Mills.”

Polly’s sober face and emphatic tone made Fanny laugh, and at the

cheery sound a young girl pushing a baby-carriage looked round

and smiled.

What lovely eyes!” whispered Fanny.

Yes, that ‘s little Jane,” returned Polly, adding, when she had

passed, with a nod and a friendly “Don’t get tired, Jenny,” “we help

one another at our house, and every fine morning Jenny takes

Johnny Kean out when she goes for her own walk. That gives his

mother time to rest, does both the children good, and keeps things

neighborly. Miss Mills suggested it, and Jenny is so glad to do

anything for anybody, it ‘s a pleasure to let her.”

“I ‘ve heard of Miss Mills before. But I should think she would get

tired to death, sitting there making hoods and petticoats day after

day,” said Fanny, after thinking over Jenny’s story for a few

minutes, for seeing the girl seemed to bring it nearer, and make it

more real to her.

“But she don’t sit there all the time. People come to her with their

troubles, and she goes to them with all sorts of help, from soap and

soup, to shrouds for the dead and comfort for the living. I go with

her sometimes, and it is more exciting than any play, to see and

hear the lives and stories of the poor.”

“How can you bear the dreadful sights and sounds, the bad air, and

the poverty that can’t be cured?”

“But it is n’t all dreadful. There are good and lovely things among

them, if one only has eyes to see them. It makes me grateful and

contented, shows me how rich I am, and keeps me ready to do all I

can for these poor souls.”

“My good Polly!” and Fanny gave her friends arm an affectionate

squeeze, wondering if it was this alone that had worked the change

in Polly.

“You have seen two of my new friends, Miss Mills and Jenny, now

I ‘ll show you two more,” said Polly, presently, as they reached a

door, and she led the way up several flights of public stairs.

“Rebecca Jeffrey is a regularly splendid girl, full of talent; she

won’t let us call it genius; she will be famous some day, I know,

she is so modest, and yet so intent on her work. Lizzie Small is an

engraver, and designs the most delightful little pictures. Becky and

she live together, and take care of one another in true Damon and

Pythias style. This studio is their home, they work, eat, sleep, and

live here, going halves in everything. They are all alone in the

world, but as happy and independent as birds; real friends, whom

nothing will part.”

“Let a lover come between them, and their friendship won’t last

long,” said Fanny.

“I think it will. Take a look at them, and you ‘ll change your mind,”

answered Polly, tapping at a door, on which two modest cards

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