strong language more than once, when some fine lady came to
condole, and went away to gossip. Polly’s hopes of Mrs. Shaw
were disappointed, for misfortune did not have a bracing effect.
She took to her bed at once, received her friends in tears and a
point-lace cap, and cheered her family by plaintively inquiring
when she was to be taken to the almshouse. This was hard for
Fanny; but after an interval of despair, she came to the conclusion
that under the circumstances it was the best thing her mother could
have done, and with something of her father’s energy, Fanny
shouldered the new burden, feeling that at last necessity had given
her what she had long needed, something to do.
The poor girl knew as much of household affairs as Snip; but pride
and the resolution “to stand by Father,” kept up her courage, and
she worked away with feverish activity at whatever task came first
till, just as strength and heart were about to fail, order began to
emerge from chaos and the vision of a home made happy and
comfortable by her skill and care came to repay and sustain her.
Maud, being relieved from the fear of back-door beggary, soon
became reconciled to bankruptcy; thought it rather a good joke, on
the whole, for children like novelty, and don’t care much for Mrs.
Grundy. She regarded the new abode as a baby house on a large
scale, where she was allowed to play her part in the most
satisfactory manner. From the moment when, on taking possession
of the coveted room, she opened the doors of the three-cornered
closet, and found a little kettle just like Polly’s, standing there, she
felt that a good time was coming for her and fell to dusting
furniture, washing cups, and making toast, the happiest, fussiest
little housewife in the city. For Maud inherited the notable gifts of
her grandmother, and would have made a capital farmer’s
daughter, in spite of her city breeding.
Polly came and went through all these changes, faithful, helpful,
and as cheery as she could be when her friends were in trouble.
The parts seemed reversed now, and it was Polly who gave, Fanny
who received; for where everything seemed strange and new to
Fan, Polly was quite at home, and every one of the unfashionable
domestic accomplishments now came into play, to the comfort of
the Shaws, and the great satisfaction of Polly. She could not do
enough to prove her gratitude for former favors, and went toiling
and moiling about, feeling that the hardest, most disagreeable tasks
were her especial duty. In the moving nothing suited her better
than to trot up and down, lugging heavy things, to pound her
fingers black and blue nailing carpets and curtains, and the day she
nearly broke her neck tumbling down the cellar stairs, in her
eagerness to see that Mrs. Shaw’s wine was rightly stored, she felt
that she was only paying her debts, and told Tom she liked it,
when he picked her up looking as grimy as a chimney-sweep.
“You can turn your hand to anything, you clever girl, so do come
and give me some advice, for I am in the depths of despair,” said
Fanny when the “maid-of-all-work” as Polly called herself, found a
leisure hour.
“What is it? Moths in the furs, a smoky chimney, or small-pox next
door?” asked Polly, as they entered Fan’s room, where Maud was
trying on old bonnets before the looking-glass.
“Actually I have nothing to wear,” began Fan impressively; “I ‘ve
been too busy to think or care till now, but here it is nearly May
and I have hardly a decent rag to my back. Usually, you know, I
just go to Mrs. O’Grady and tell her what I want; she makes my
spring wardrobe, Papa pays the bill, and there I am. Now I ‘ve
looked into the matter, and I declare to you, Polly, I ‘m frightened
to see how much it costs to dress me.”
“Not so much as some girls I know,” said Polly encouragingly.
“Perhaps not, for I have a conscience, and taste is economy
sometimes; but really, Polly, I have n’t the heart to ask Papa for a