old. Then her eye went to the unfinished statue, and she said,
impulsively, “I hope you ‘ll put that in marble, and show us what
we ought to be.”
“I wish I could!” And an intense desire shone in Rebecca’s face, as
she saw her faulty work, and felt how fair her model was.
For a minute, the five young women sat silent looking up at the
beautiful, strong figure before them, each longing to see it done,
and each unconscious that she was helping, by her individual effort
and experience, to bring the day when their noblest ideal of
womanhood should be embodied in flesh and blood, not clay.
The city bells rung one, and Polly started up.
“I must go, for I promised a neighbor of mine a lesson at two.”
“I thought this was a holiday,” said Fanny.
“So it is, but this is a little labor of love, and does n’t spoil the day
at all. The child has talent, loves music, and needs help. I can’t
give her money, but I can teach her; so I do, and she is the most
promising pupil I have. Help one another, is part of the religion of
our sisterhood, Fan.”
“I must put you in a story, Polly. I want a heroine, and you will
do,” said Kate.
“Me! why, there never was such a humdrum, unromantic thing as I
am,” cried Polly, amazed.
“I ‘ve booked you, nevertheless, so in you go; but you may add as
much romance as you like, it ‘s time you did.”
“I ‘m ready for it when it comes, but it can’t be forced, you know,”
and Polly blushed and smiled as if some little spice of that
delightful thing had stolen into her life, for all its prosaic seeming.
Fanny was amused to see that the girls did not kiss at parting, but
shook hands in a quiet, friendly fashion, looking at one another
with eyes that said more than the most “gushing” words.
“I like your friends very much, Polly. I was afraid I should find
them mannish and rough, or sentimental and conceited. But they
are simple, sensible creatures, full of talent, and all sorts of fine
things. I admire and respect them, and want to go again, if I may.”
“Oh, Fan, I am so glad! I hoped you ‘d like them, I knew they ‘d do
you good, and I ‘ll take you any time, for you stood the test better
than I expected. Becky asked me to bring you again, and she
seldom does that for fashionable young ladies, let me tell you.”
“I want to be ever so much better, and I think you and they might
show me how,” said Fanny, with a traitorous tremble in her voice.
“We ‘ll show you the sunny side of poverty and work, and that is a
useful lesson for any one, Miss Mills says,” answered Polly,
hoping that Fan would learn how much the poor can teach the rich,
and what helpful friends girls may be to one another.
CHAPTER XIV NIPPED IN THE BUD
ON the evening of Fan’s visit, Polly sat down before her fire with a
resolute and thoughtful aspect. She pulled her hair down, turned
her skirt back, put her feet on the fender, and took Puttel into her
lap, all of which arrangements signified that something very
important had got to be thought over and settled. Polly did not
soliloquize aloud, as heroines on the stage and in books have a
way of doing, but the conversation she held with herself was very
much like this: “I ‘m afraid there is something in it. I ‘ve tried to
think it ‘s nothing but vanity or imagination, yet I can’t help seeing
a difference, and feeling as if I ought not to pretend that I don’t. I
know it ‘s considered proper for girls to shut their eyes and let
things come to a crisis no matter how much mischief is done. But I
don’t think it ‘s doing as we ‘d be done by, and it seems a great deal
more honest to show a man that you don’t love him before he has