Family -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Motherless families -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
Certainly Polly would not have ventured to carry out so daring a scheme
without Helen's consent and cooperation, if it had not happened that she
was away for the day. She had taken the opportunity to drive into the
nearest town five miles away with her father, and had arranged to spend
the day there, purchasing several necessary things, and calling on one
or two friends.
"And it will be much too late to tell Nell when she comes back," voted
all the children. "If she makes a fuss then, and refuses to join, she
will spoil everything. We are bound too, to obey Helen, so we had much
better not give her the chance of saying 'no.' Let us pretend to go to
bed at our usual hour, and say nothing to either Nurse or Helen. We can
tell them to-morrow if we like, and they can only scold us. Yes, that is
the only thing to do, for it would never, never do to have such a jolly
plan spoilt."
A unanimous vote was therefore carried that the supper in the garret was
to be absolutely secret and confidential, and, naughty as this plan of
carrying out their pleasure was, it must be owned that it largely
enhanced the fun. The next point to consider was, who were to be the
invited guests? There were no boys and girls of the children's own class
in life within an easy distance.
"Therefore there is no one to ask," exclaimed Katie, in her shortest and
most objectionable manner.
But here Firefly electrified her family by quoting Scripture.
"When thou makest a supper," she began.
All the others rose in a body and fell upon her. But she had started a
happy idea, and in consequence, Mrs. Ricketts' youngest son and
daughter, and the three very naughty and disreputable sons of Mrs.
Jones, the laundress, were invited to partake of the coming feast.
The rest of the day passed to all appearance very soberly. Helen was
away. The Doctor's carriage neither came nor went; the Doctor himself,
with his kindly voice, and his somewhat brusque, determined manner,
awoke no echoes in the old house. Nurse was far away in the nursery
wing, with the pretty, brown-eyed baby and the children; all the girls
and the little boys were remarkably good.
To those who are well acquainted with the habits and ways of young
folks, too much goodness is generally a suspicious circumstance. There
is a demure look, there is an instant obedience, there is an absence of
fretfulness, and an abnormal, although subdued, cheerfulness, which
arouses the watchful gaze of the knowing among mothers, governesses, and
nurses.
Had Nurse been at dinner that day she might have been warned of coming
events by Bunny's excellent behavior; by Bob's rigid refusal to partake
twice of an unwholesome compound, which went by the name of iced
pudding; by Firefly's anxiety to be all that a good and proper little
girl should be. But Nurse, of course, had nothing to say to the family
dinner. Helen was away, the Doctor was nearing the metropolis, and the
little boys' daily governess was not dining with the family.
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