Domestic fiction; Families -- Juvenile fiction; Historical fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Sisters -- Juvenile fiction
“Don’t you ever go out at all?” asked Daisy, and she looked so
distressed that Miss Polly hastened to say cheerfully:
“Well, no, dear. You see, it couldn’t be managed very easily. It would
be very difficult to get my chair down all these stairs, even if there
were any one to carry me, which of course there isn’t.”
“I shouldn’t think you could be very heavy,” said Molly, with a
critical glance at the tiny figure in the wheel-chair. “If somebody
carried you down-stairs, couldn’t you go for a drive in a carriage?
Central Park is lovely, and there are beautiful trees there. Lizzie,
our nurse, used to take us to Central Park very often. We went on the
Sixth Avenue elevated road, and it was great fun, but I don’t suppose
you could go that way.”
Miss Polly smiled rather sadly.
“I am afraid not,” she said. “A carriage would be different, but
carriages cost money, you know.”
“I wish we had a carriage,” said Daisy, regretfully. “We’d take you out
every day if we had. Papa had a horse and carriage when we lived in
Danby, before Mamma died, but that was a long time ago. We don’t mind
not having one ourselves, because we like the stages and the elevated
just as well, but it would be lovely to take you to Central Park.”
“Thank you, dear, but I appreciate the kind thought just as much as I
should the drive. There is just one reason why I should like to be able
to get out occasionally; it would give me more to write about in my
letters to Tom.”
“Who is Tom?” inquired Daisy, with interest.
“My dear brother; the only near relative I have in the world. I write
to him every week, and sometimes it is a little difficult to make my
letters interesting. Tom isn’t particularly fond of books, and I am
afraid it might bore him to hear about what I am reading. Sometimes I
am almost afraid he may begin to suspect that I don’t get about as I
used to.”
“Why, doesn’t he know?” gasped Daisy; and Dulcie, who had been glancing
over “A Mother’s Recompense,” suddenly closed her book, and regarded
Miss Polly with increased interest.
Miss Polly blushed, and looked a little embarrassed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account