Half a Dozen Girls | Page 2

home."
"Has she?" asked Mrs. Adams, in some surprise. "I thought she was going to spend the day."
Polly blushed a little.
"So she was," she admitted at length; "but she changed her mind."
Mrs. Adams looked at her little daughter inquiringly for a moment, and seemed about to speak, but catching the eye of Aunt Jane, who was watching them sharply, she only said,--
"I am sorry; for I wanted to send a pattern to Mrs. Hapgood, when she went home, and now I shall have to wait."
"I'll take it over now, mamma; I'd just as soon." And Polly jumped up and caught her sailor hat from the table where she had tossed it.
"I should like to have you, if you will, Polly. It is in my room, and I'll get it for you."
She put down her work and went out into the hall, followed by Polly.
"Have you and Molly been quarrelling again?" she asked, when the door had closed between them and Aunt Jane.
"Only a little bit, mamma," confessed Polly. "Molly was teasing me all the time, and at last I was mad, so I said I wished she'd go home, and she went right straight off."
"I am sorry my daughter should be so rude to her company," began Mrs. Adams soberly.
"So'm I," interrupted Polly; "I don't mean to; but she makes me cross, and before I know it I flare up. I wish she hadn't gone, too; for we promised to go over to see Florence this afternoon, and she'll think it is queer if we don't."
"I wish you would try to be a little more patient, Polly," said her mother. "You mustn't be cross every time that Molly laughs at you; and you answered Aunt Jane very rudely just now. You need to watch that tongue of yours, my dear, and not let it run away with you. And now take this to Mrs. Hapgood, and tell her she will need to allow a good large seam when she cuts it, for Molly is taller than you."
"Yes'm," said Polly meekly, as she held up her face for the kiss, without which she never left the house.
Then she slowly went down the stairs, and out at the door, thinking over what her mother had just said to her, and resolving, as she did at least twice every day, that she would never, never quarrel with Molly again. But not in vain had Mrs. Adams devoted the past thirteen years to watching her only child, and she understood Polly's present mood well enough to call to her from the window,--
"You'd better bring Molly back to lunch, I think. We're going to have raspberry shortcake, and you know she likes that."
And Polly looked up, with a brightening face, to answer,--
"All right."
Then, in spite of the warm day, she went hurrying off down the street, while her mother stood by the window, watching until the bright curls under the blue sailor hat had passed out of sight. Then she turned away with a half-smile, saying to herself,--
"Poor Polly! She has hard times fighting her temper; but Molly does tease her unmercifully. After all, she comes naturally by it, for she's very much as I was, at her age."
"What's the matter?" queried Aunt Jane, as her sister came back and took up her work once more. "Have Molly and Polly been having another fuss?"
"Nothing serious, I think," said Mrs. Adams lightly.
Aunt Jane's thin lips straightened out into an ominous line as she answered,--
"Strange those two children can't get on together! I think it is largely Polly's fault, for Molly is a sweet, quiet girl. You are spoiling Polly, Isabel, as I keep telling you. Some day you'll come to realize it, and be sorry."
Mrs. Adams bit her lip for an instant, and a clear, bright color came into her cheeks; but after a moment she replied quietly,--
"You must allow me to be the judge of that, Jane."
"Of course you can do as you like with your own child," retorted Aunt Jane stiffly; "but I can't shut my eyes to what is going on around me, and let a naturally good child be spoiled for want of a firm hand, without saying a word to stop it. Your mother didn't bring you up in that way, Isabel, though she did indulge you a great deal more than she did us older children."
As Aunt Jane paused, Mrs. Adams rose abruptly and left the room, saying something about a letter which she must write in time for the next mail.
Aunt Jane could be exasperating at times, as even her younger sister was forced to admit, and occasionally she was driven to the necessity of running away from her, rather than yield to the temptation of answering sharp words with sharper. Mrs. Adams could and did bear patiently with unasked