Part 21 (1/2)
”How extraordinary!” said Flower. ”The English nation have very queer and plebeian ways about them; it's very plebeian to take the least notice of servants, except to order them to obey you.”
”On the contrary,” retorted Polly; ”it's the sign of a true lady or gentleman to be perfectly courteous to their dependents, and if they deserve love, to give it to them. I'm fond of Maggie; she's a good little girl, and she shall come to our picnic. Come along, Firefly.”
”I certainly will have nothing to say to Polly while she a.s.sociates with a servant,” said Flower, slowly, and with great apparent calmness. ”I don't suppose we need all wait for her here. She can follow with the servant when she gets her. I suppose Polly's whims are not to upset the whole party.”
”Polly will very likely catch us up at the cross-roads,” said Helen, in a pleasant voice. ”Come, Flower, you won't really be troubled with poor little Maggie; she will spend her day probably with George, and will help him to wash up our dinner-things after we have eaten. Come, don't be vexed, Flower.”
”_I_ vexed!” said Flower. ”You are quite mistaken. I don't intend to have anything to say to Polly while she chooses a kitchen-maid for her friend, but I dare say the rest of you can entertain me. Now, Mabel and Dolly, shall I tell you what we did that dark night when David and I stole out through the pantry window?”
”Oh, yes, yes!” exclaimed the twins. The others all cl.u.s.tered round eagerly.
Flower had a very distinct voice, and when she roused herself she could really be eloquent. A daring little adventure which she and her brother had experienced lost nothing in the telling, and when Polly, Firefly, and Maggie, joined the group, they found themselves taken very little notice of, for all the other children, even Helen, were hanging on Flower's words.
”Oh, I say, that isn't fair!” exclaimed Polly, whose spirits were excellent. ”You're telling a story, Flower, and Firefly and I have missed it. Maggie loves stories, too; don't you, Mag? Do begin again, please, Flower, please do!”
Flower did not even pretend to hear Polly's words--she walked straight on, gesticulating a little now and then, now and then raising her hand in a slightly dramatic manner. Her clear voice floated back to Polly as she walked forward, the center of an eager, wors.h.i.+pping, entranced audience.
Polly's own temper was rather hasty, she felt her face flus.h.i.+ng, angry words were bubbling to her lips, and she would have flown after the little party who were so utterly ignoring her, if David had not suddenly slipped back and put his hand on her arm.
”I know the story,” he said; ”so I needn't stay to listen. She's adding to it awfully. We didn't use any ropes, the window is only three feet from the ground, and the awful howling and barking of the mastiff was made by the shabbiest little cur. Flower is lovely, but she does dress up her stories. I love Flower, but I'll walk with you now, if you'll let me, Polly.”
”You're very kind, David,” said Polly. ”But I don't know that I want any one to walk with me, except Maggie. I think Flower was very rude just now. Oh, you can stay if you like, David--I don't mind, one way or another. Isn't this south moor lovely, Maggie? Aren't you glad I asked you to come with us?”
”Well, yes, Miss, I be. It was good-natured of you, Miss Polly, only if there's stories a-going, I'd like to be in at them. I does love narrations of outlandish places, Miss. Oh, my word, and is that the little foreign gentleman? It is a disappointment as I can't 'ear what the young lady's a-telling of.”
”Well, Maggie, you needn't be discontented. _I_ am not hearing this wonderful story, either. David, what are you nudging me for?”
”Send her to walk with George,” whispered David. ”I want to say something to you so badly, Polly.”
Polly frowned. She did not feel particularly inclined to oblige any one just now, but David had a pleading way of his own; he squeezed her arm affectionately, and looked into her face with a world of beseeching in his big black eyes. After all it was no very difficult matter to get at Polly's warm heart. She looked over her shoulder.
”George, will you give Maggie a seat beside you,” she said. ”No, none of the rest of us want to drive. Come on, David. Now, David, what is it?”
”It's about Flower,” said David. ”She--she--you don't none of you know Flower yet.”
”Oh, I am not sure of that,” replied Polly, speaking on purpose in a very careless tone. ”I suppose she's much like other girls. She's rather pretty, of course, and has nice ways with her. I made stories about you both, but you're not a bit like anything I thought of. In some ways you're nicer, in some not so nice. Why, what is the matter, David? What are you staring at me so hard for?”
”Because you're all wrong,” responded David. ”You don't know Flower.
She's not like other girls; not a bit. There were girls at Ballarat, and she wasn't like them. But no one wondered at that, for they were rough, and not like real ladies. And there were girls on board the big s.h.i.+p we came over in, and they weren't rough, but Flower wasn't a bit like them either. And she's not like any of you, Polly, although I'm sure you are nice, and Helen is sweet, and Fly is a little brick. Flower is not like any other girl I have ever seen.”
”She must be an oddity, then,” said Polly. ”I hate oddities. Do let's walk a little faster, David.”
”You are wrong again,” persisted David, quickening his steps. ”An oddity is some one to laugh at, but no one has ever dreamed of laughing at Flower. She is just herself, like no one else in the world. No, you don't any of you know her yet. I suppose you are every one of you thinking that she's the very nicest and cleverest and perfectest girl you ever met?”
”I'm sure we are not,” said Polly. ”I think, for my part, there has been a great deal too much fuss made about her. I'm getting tired of her airs, and I think she was very rude just now.”
”Oh, don't, Polly, you frighten me. I want to tell you something so badly. Will you treat it as a great, enormous secret? will you never reveal it, Polly?”
”What a queer boy you are,” said Polly. ”No, I won't tell. What's the mystery?”