CHAPTER VII
IN THE COUNTRY
Priscilla and Polly proved to be famous travelers, for everything about the journey interested them. They thought it great sport to look out of the car-window and watch the telegraph-poles flash past and when this grew less amusing they made up words to the tune the train was grinding out.
“Going to the country! Going to the country!” chanted Polly, “that is what it says.”
“Priscilla and Polly! Priscilla and Polly!” sang Priscilla, “don’t you hear it?” And, sure enough, the tune did actually seem to change as they listened, and that set them to composing other words for the wheels to whirl out, and the accommodating train sang them all.
Then, it was fun to sit opposite each other across the aisle and count the white cows they saw. First there seemed to be more on Polly’s side than on Priscilla’s, but all at once they flashed by a meadow where quite a drove of cattle was grazing and Priscilla got all the benefit of the white cows in it.
But when, at last, they arrived at “the country” itself, Polly could hardly keep from shouting with delight. Why, it was just the most beautiful place she had ever dreamed of, and it was precisely as sister had said it would be. There were the blossoming flowers and the singing birds and the green fields all starred over with dandelions and daisies. The daylight was fading as they drove through the leafy lanes from the railroad-station to the house and Priscilla’s tired eyelids were drooping, but Polly was as wide-awake and alert as when she started out. She saw a big gate of “curly” iron set between two huge stone posts, a cozy little cottage that Hannah said was “the Lodge” nestling beside it, broad lawns and towering trees and then, after they had passed all these, a great house standing high and stately against the glowing sky. It was beneath the carriage entrance of this that they stopped and Polly was just beginning to feel strange and awe-struck when out came James, with smiling face, to welcome them and she felt at home at once. In another moment Theresa appeared and busied herself carrying in the wraps and umbrellas, while she gave Priscilla a radiant smile and Polly a not unkindly pat on the shoulder. She even assisted James to serve them at tea, and was so altogether amiable and accommodating that Polly concluded the city air had not agreed with her and that she felt better in her mind here. But she did not have much opportunity to think about it, for Hannah whisked her and Priscilla up-stairs and had them safely tucked into bed in no time and then, somehow, that was the end of things until the next morning.
It appeared that, in the stable, there was a little square basket, perched on two wheels, which was to be drawn by a wee scrap of a shaggy pony not much bigger than a St. Bernard dog, and this was Priscilla’s own private and particular turnout. She could not be trusted alone to manage her fiery steed and therefore Hannah always went along when she and Polly drove out, but, dear me! they didn’t mind that! Hannah was just like another little girl, she was so jolly and full of fun. What splendid times they had, to be sure, trundling along the country-roads behind “Oh-my.”
Polly thought Oh-my a very curious name and Priscilla had to explain that pony received it from Uncle Arthur who had said “He was little but, Oh my!”
“I don’t care if he is little,” asserted Priscilla, “I love him just the same.”
“Why, of course you do,” responded Polly. “He’s the best and smartest horse I ever saw. He understands everything we say and sometimes I think he likes jokes, ’cause when we make ’em and laugh he starts up quick as anything, and his sides just shake, as if he were laughing too.”