Girlhood and Womanhood | Page 5

until the red stain became undistinguishable, and even
Polly felt conscious that her allusion was too flippant for the cause.
"So you see, Lilias," she continued quickly, "I'm not the least ashamed
of having been caught fast asleep in my room before dinner the other
rainy day. I always curl myself up and go to sleep when I've got
nothing better to do, and I count the capacity a precious gift; besides, I
will let you into a secret worth your heads: it improves your looks
immensely after you've been gadding about for a number of days, and
horribly dissipated in dancing of nights at Christmas, or in the oratorio
week, or if you are in a town when the circuit is sitting--not present as a
prisoner, Conny."

"Polly!" blazed out Constantia, who, on the plea of the needle-like
sharpness and single-heartedness which sometimes distinguishes her
fifteen years, was permitted to be more plain-spoken and ruder than her
sisters; "I hate to hear you telling of doing everything you like with
such enjoyment. I think, if you had been a man, you would have been
an abominable fellow, and you are only harmless because you are a
girl."
Polly laughed immoderately. "Such a queer compliment, Conny!"
"Hold your tongue, Conny."
"Go back to your book; we'll tell mamma," scolded the elder girls; and
Conny hung her head, scarlet with shame and consternation.
Conny had truth on her side; yet Polly's independence and animal
delight in life, in this artificial world, was not to be altogether despised
either.
Polly maintained honestly that the girl had done no harm. She was glad
she had never had to endure senior sisters, and if she had been afflicted
with younger plagues, she would have made a point of not snubbing
them, on the principle of fair play.
"And you were a little heathenish, Polly," suggested Joanna, "not
giving fair play to the heroism of the ancients."
But Susan had long been waiting her turn, testifying more interest in
her right to speak than she usually wasted on the affairs of the state.
She wished to cross-examine Polly on a single important expression,
and although Susan at least was wonderfully harmless, her patience
could hold out no longer.
"Why are you afraid of being blowsy to-night, Polly?"
"I'm not frightened, I would not disturb myself about a risk; but you've
kept an invitation all this time under my tongue, not in my pockets, I
assure you;" and Polly elaborately emptied them, the foppish breast

pocket, and that at the waist.
"It is only from Mrs. Maxwell," sighed Susan; "we are never invited
anywhere except to Hurlton, in this easy way."
"But there is company; young Mr. Jardine has come home to
Whitethorn, and he is to dine with the Maxwells, and we are invited
over to Hurlton in the evening lest the claret or the port should be too
much for him."
The girls did not say "Nonsense!" they looked at each other; Joanna
was very pale, the red stain was very clear now. At last Lilias spoke,
hesitating a little to begin with, "It is so like Mrs. Maxwell--without a
moment's consideration--so soon after his return, before we had met
casually, as we must have done. I dare say she is sorry now, when she
comes to think over it. I hope Mr. Maxwell will be angry with her--the
provoking old goose," ran on Lilias, neither very reverently nor very
gratefully for an excellent, exemplary girl.
"There is one thing, we can't refuse," said Susan with marvellous
decision; "it would be out of the question for us to avoid him; it would
be too marked for us to stay away."
"Read your book, Conny," commanded Lilias fiercely; "you were
sufficiently intent upon it a moment ago; girls should not be made
acquainted with such troubles."
"I don't want to be a bar upon you," cried the belated Conny, rising and
walking away sulkily, but pricking her ears all the time.
"Joanna, you had better mention the matter to papa."
"Don't you think you're making an unnecessary fuss?" remarked Polly.
"Of course, I remembered uncle's misfortune," she admitted candidly,
"though none of you speak of it, and I noticed Oliver stammer
dreadfully when Mrs. Maxwell mentioned Mr. Jardine; but I thought
that at this time of day, when everybody knew there was no malice
borne originally, and Uncle Crawfurd might have been killed, you

might have been polite and neighbourly with quiet consciences. I tell
you, I mean to set my cap at young Mr. Jardine of Whitethorn, and
when I marry him, and constitute him a family connexion, of course the
relics of that old accident will be scattered to the winds."
"Oh! Polly, Polly!" cried the girls, "you must never, never speak so
lightly to papa."