Part 18 (1/2)
”Oh, she makes me feel good!” said Polly, hugging the little creature fondly to her side.
Two hours later Polly stood with her father's arm round her neck: a slanting ray of sunlight was falling across the old faded carpet in the study, and mother's eyes smiled out of their picture at Polly from the wall.
”You have been punished enough,” said the Doctor. ”I have sent for you now just to say a word or two. You are a very young climber, Polly, but if this kind of thing is often repeated, you will never make any way.”
”I don't understand you, father.”
The Doctor patted Polly's curly head.
”Child,” he said, ”we have all of us to go up mountains, and if you choose a higher one, with peaks nearer to the sky than others, you have all the more need for the necessary helps for ascent.”
”Father is always delightful when he is allegorical,” Polly had once said.
Now she threw back her head, looked full into his dearly-loved face, clasped his hands tightly in both her own, and said with tears filling her eyes, ”I am glad you are going to teach me through a kind of story, and I think I know what you mean by my trying to climb the highest mountain. I always did long to do whatever I did a little better than any one else.”
”Exactly so, Polly; go on wis.h.i.+ng that. Still try to climb the highest mountain, only take with you humility instead of self-confidence, and then, child, you will succeed, for you will be very glad to avail yourself of the necessary helps.”
”The helps? What are they, father? I partly know what you mean, but I am not sure that I quite know.”
”Oh, yes, you quite know. You have known ever since you knelt at your mother's knee, and whispered your prayers all the better to G.o.d because she was listening too. But I will explain myself by the commonest of ill.u.s.trations. A shepherd wanted to rescue one of his flock from a most perilous situation. The straying sheep had come to a ledge of rock, from where it could not move either backwards or forwards. It had climbed up thousands of feet. How was the shepherd to get it? There was one way.
His friends went by another road to the top of the mountain. From there they threw down ropes, which he bound firmly round him, and then they drew him slowly up. He reached the ledge, he rescued the sheep, and it was saved. He could have done nothing without the ropes. So you, too, Polly, can do nothing worthy; you can never climb your high mountain without the aid of that prayer which links you to your Father in heaven.
Do you understand?”
”Yes, I understand,” said Polly; ”I see. I won't housekeep any more for the present, father.”
”You had better not, dear; you have plenty of talent for this, as well as for anything else you like to undertake, but you lack experience now, and discretion. It was just all this, and that self-confidence which I alluded to just now, which got my little girl into all this trouble, and caused Aunt Maria to think very badly of her. Aunt Maria has gone, so we will say nothing about her just at present. I may be a foolish old father, Polly, but I own I have a great desire to keep my children to myself just now. So I shall give Sleepy Hollow another chance of doing without a grown-up housekeeper. Your governesses and masters shall come to teach you as arranged, but Helen must be housekeeper, with Mrs.
Power, who is a very managing person, to help her. Helen, too, must have a certain amount of authority over you all, with the power to appeal to me in any emergency. This you must submit to, Polly, and I shall expect you to do so with a good grace.”
”Yes, father.”
”I have acceded to your wishes in the matter of bringing the Australian children here for at least six months. So you see you will have a good deal on your hands; and as I have done so at the express wish of Helen and yourself, I shall expect you both to take a good deal of responsibility, and to be in every sense of the word, extra good.”
Polly's eyes danced with pleasure. Then she looked up into her father's face, and something she saw there caused her to clasp her arms round his neck, and whisper eagerly and impulsively:
”Father, dear, what Helen told me is _not_ true--is it?”
”You mean about my eyes, Polly? So Helen knows, and has spoken about it, poor girl?”
”Yes, yes, but it isn't true, it can't be?”
”Don't tremble, Polly. I am quite willing to tell you how things really are. I don't wish it to be spoken of, but it is a relief to trust some one. I saw Sir James Dawson when in town. He is the first oculist in England. He told me that my sight was in a precarious state, and that if matters turned out unfavorably it is possible, nay probable, that I may become quite blind. On the other hand, he gives me a prescription which he thinks and hopes will avert the danger.”
”What is it? Oh! father, you will surely try it?”
”If you and the others will help me.”
”But what is it?”