for every one, I must begin right away, or I shan’t get done;” and
off she bustled, glad to forget her remorse in hard work.
Grandma proved equal to the emergency, and planned something
for every one, supplying materials, taste, and skill in the most
delightful manner. Polly felt much comforted; but while she began
to knit a pretty pair of white bed-socks, to be tied with
rose-colored ribbons, for her mother, she thought some very sober
thoughts upon the subject of temptation; and if any one had asked
her just then what made her sigh, as if something lay heavy on her
conscience, she would have answered, “Bronze boots.”
CHAPTER IV LITTLE THINGS
“IT ‘S so wainy, I can’t go out, and evwybody is so cwoss they
won’t play with me,” said Maud, when Polly found her fretting on
the stairs, and paused to ask the cause of her wails.
“I ‘ll play with you; only don’t scream and wake your mother. What
shall we play?”
“I don’t know; I ‘m tired of evwything, ’cause my toys are all
bwoken, and my dolls are all sick but Clawa,” moaned Maud,
giving a jerk to the Paris doll which she held upside down by one
leg in the most unmaternal manner.
“I ‘m going to dress a dolly for my little sister; would n’t you like to
see me do it?” asked Polly, persuasively, hoping to beguile the
cross child and finish her own work at the same time.
“No, I should n’t, ’cause she ‘ll look nicer than my Clawa. Her
clothes won’t come off; and Tom spoilt ’em playing ball with her in
the yard.”
“Would n’t you like to rip these clothes off, and have me show you
how to make some new ones, so you can dress and undress Clara
as much as you like?”
“Yes; I love to cut.” And Maud’s, face brightened; for
destructiveness is one of the earliest traits of childhood, and
ripping was Maud’s delight.
Establishing themselves in the deserted dining-room, the children
fell to work; and when Fanny discovered them, Maud was
laughing with all her heart at poor Clara, who, denuded of her
finery, was cutting up all sorts of capers in the hands of her merry
little mistress.
“I should think you ‘d be ashamed to play with dolls, Polly. I have
n’t touched one this ever so long,” said Fanny, looking down with a
superior air.
“I ain’t ashamed, for it keeps Maud happy, and will please my
sister Kitty; and I think sewing is better than prinking or reading
silly novels, so, now.” And Polly stitched away with a resolute air,
for she and Fanny had had a little tiff; because Polly would n’t let
her friend do up her hair “like other folks,” and bore her ears.
“Don’t be cross, dear, but come and do something nice, it ‘s so dull
to-day,” said Fanny, anxious to be friends again, for it was doubly
dull without Polly.
“Can’t; I ‘m busy.”
“You always are busy. I never saw such a girl. What in the world
do you find to do all the time?” asked Fanny, watching with
interest the set of the little red merino frock Polly was putting on
to her doll.
“Lots of things; but I like to be lazy sometimes as much as you do;
just lie on the sofa, and read fairy stories, or think about nothing.
Would you have a white-muslin apron or a black silk?” added
Polly, surveying her work with satisfaction.
“Muslin, with pockets and tiny blue bows. I ‘ll show you how.”
And forgetting her hate and contempt for dolls, down sat Fanny,
soon getting as much absorbed as either of the others.
The dull day brightened wonderfully after that, and the time flew
pleasantly, as tongues and needles went together. Grandma peeped
in, and smiled at the busy group, saying, “Sew away, my dears;
dollies are safe companions, and needlework an accomplishment
that ‘s sadly neglected nowadays. Small stitches, Maud; neat
buttonholes, Fan; cut carefully, Polly, and don’t waste your cloth.
Take pains; and the best needlewoman shall have a pretty bit of
white satin for a doll’s bonnet.”