Polly of Pebbly Pit | Page 9

a lady when
you cross a room, won't you?" complained Barbara.
Eleanor smiled up at her father and he pinched her thin cheek as he
stooped to kiss her. Then, he waved his hand at the others and left the
room. Once outside the door and safely out of hearing he chuckled to
himself.
"Bob pictures a gay resort with troops of male admirers to play tennis
and dance away the hours with. She is thinking of dress to captivate her
'moths,' but Nolla is thinking of the rural pleasures she has heard me
describe to her. If Bob knew the truth, she'd never go, and poor little
Nolla would lose the most wonderful opportunity of her young life. I'd
best not prejudice Bob or mother, but just pay the bills for finery and
whims and bide my time."
Soon after arriving at his bank-office he sent a message to Anne
Stewart at Denver, advising her to engage the rooms at the Brewster

home. As an afterthought, he added that he was anxious to have
Eleanor get away about the time he left home for his trip.
That afternoon he carried home the reply from Anne Stewart: "Have
engaged rooms and board from next week on. Wire when to expect you
at Denver. Anne."
Mrs. Maynard had heard from her friends that day that their plans were
changed and now they expected to leave Chicago sooner than she had
thought. This made her agree quickly to having her daughters start the
following week.
"But, mother, it can't be done. I need a riding habit, and tennis clothes,
and a few new afternoon gowns and evening dresses!" remonstrated
Barbara.
"You had a new habit last fall, Bob," Eleanor said.
"But it has a long coat and full bloomers. No one is wearing that style,
now. Everything is mannish coats and tight knickerbockers," argued
Barbara.
"I will call up the tailor at once, girls, and have him give us the
preference over other work," Mrs. Maynard replied.
"Not for me! I don't like the tight habits. I shall take my bloomer one,"
replied Eleanor, decidedly.
"Dear me, Nolla! You don't seem to care a fig about your appearance.
What will become of you when it is time for you to make your debut?"
sighed Mrs. Maynard, despondently.
"I'm not going to do anything so silly--I'm going into business when I
grow up!"
"Oh!"
"Nolla!"

Mother and sister could hardly gasp the words as they turned shocked
eyes in the direction of Mr. Maynard who had been writing out checks
for his family. He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily at the
independence of his youngest child.
"Frederick! Now you see what comes of your petting Nolla whenever
she says or does anything dreadful!" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard.
"Is business so dreadful, then? Anne Stewart seems all right, and she is
earning her living," ventured Eleanor.
"I wash my hands of you, after this, Eleanor! If you do anything so
unheard of as you threaten, no one will keep up with you," declared
Barbara, sternly.
"They'll have to travel mighty fast to keep up with me, Bob, once I am
of age and start in business," laughed Eleanor.
"That will do, young lady! Remember you are only fourteen, and
business is a long time off for you!" Mrs. Maynard remarked.
Then Eleanor hung over the back of her father's chair twisting the
iron-gray hair into ridiculous points while her mother and Barbara
forgot her presence and planned many fetching gowns for the summer
campaign. Both were fair examples of modern society and its aims, and
they sacrificed many worth-while plans and pleasures upon the altar of
their fickle goddess. So it followed that the fashionable tailors, the
modiste and the lingerie-maker stitched and fitted and clipped, on
beautiful materials and trimmings, until everything was ready for
Barbara's summer victory. Eleanor steadfastly refused to be annoyed by
having new clothes made, so her trunk was packed with the wardrobe
she already had on hand.
"Of course, Nolla's appearance is not of as much consequence as yours,
Bob, as she still is so young and delicate. It is different with you,
however, and I'm so glad you are sensible to appreciate what a
difference clothes make," said Mrs. Maynard, resignedly, as the seven
trunks were packed and waiting for the expressman.

"I'm glad your fussing is over at last. If you had much more to sew and
fit we never would get away!" grumbled Eleanor, watching the man
stagger as he carried the heavy trunks downstairs.
"Well, I'll soon be reaping the benefit of my patience and _you'll_ be
sorry you were so indifferent over your looks," retorted Barbara,
turning away from the window once her five trunks were safely on the
express wagon.
"Girls, you're sure