“That girl has got a head on her shoulders!” was one of the remarks that was made after Polly had departed triumphant out of the lawyers’ office.
“And a —— good will of her own into the bargain,” was a second remark made not without admiration for this same will.
Polly, meanwhile, carried out all her plans, and she was so energetic, so helpful and so bright and courageous, as we have said, that she imbued her mother with some of her spirit, and long before the new year had dropped out of its newness, the two women had settled down into a quiet, even life that had its share of work and thought to lift them out of too deep a measure of sorrow.
Polly’s brain did an infinite amount of traveling in these days.
She was turning over a number of schemes in her head, needless to say, schemes that would bring little grist to the mill, and insure her mother even more comfort than she had now.
One day she thought of starting a cooking class, a second day she pictured herself as mistress of dancing to a crowd of little children, a third she had some other idea.
It would be easy, she told herself, to make some use of the big empty rooms, if only once she would hit on just the thing to do. Teaching in the ordinary sense of the word, was something Polly never would have attempted.
“First of all, I know nothing,” she said to herself, candidly; “and, then, I should just get mad with irritation and impatience. I would rather sweep a crossing than be a governess.”
Nevertheless, each day as it went emphasized the necessity more in the girl’s mind that something must be done to add to the very modest income on which they had to live. Harold’s school bills alone made big inroads into this income, and it was only by strenuous efforts that Polly was able to steer clear of debt.
As her mother had foretold, the family in general expressed unqualified disapproval of the arrangement by which Robert Pennington’s widow remained on in the old house, and this disapproval took the form of absenting themselves from the modest menage. Even Mrs. Pennington’s sister, Hubert Kestridge’s stepmother, held herself aloof, but, then, as Polly knew right well, the marriage with Winnie had been exceedingly objectionable to her Aunt Nellie, and she and her mother had to bear the brunt of this anger.