But the next day! Oh dear, how different everything seemed then! The grounds were littered with torn paper and scorched lanterns and scraps of twine and tattered shreds of muslin and bunting. The grass of the lawns was cruelly trodden down and, in some places, fairly torn up by the roots. Indoors it was no better. The articles that had been left over from the fair were scattered here, there, and everywhere in everybody’s way.
Priscilla looked pale and worn out and, for the first time since Polly had known her, was, as Hannah expressed it, “cross as two sticks.” Polly herself was far from well. There was a big aching bump upon her head and her body felt stiff and sore all over. Her cheeks were flushed and feverish and she, as well as Priscilla, felt so tired and forlorn that they could hardly drag themselves to the stable on a visit of condolence to Oh-my, when it was discovered that the poor little pony had been overdriven the day before, had caught cold and would have to be very carefully tended before he could recover. Even Hannah was inclined to be irritable, and there was no doubt at all about Theresa’s and the other servants’ ill-temper.
The sight of the empty place upon her table where her precious bank had stood made Polly so melancholy that she felt like sitting down and having a “good cry” over it, but she remembered sister’s advice to “hold her little head up no matter how she felt” and decided that she would follow it at once. But the sacrifice of her savings meant a real struggle, for Polly had had great plans as to what she meant to do with her money and now it looked as if all those lovely dreams could never be realized. As soon as her breakfast was eaten she left the nursery, inclining to confess to Miss Cissy about the little chamois-skin bag, but everything was in confusion down-stairs for, it appeared, Miss Cicely had to hurry off at once to join a party of friends at the seaside, the rest of the relations were going their own ways and, in a very little while, the house would be left deserted and dull to struggle with the sultry, trying weather alone.
“Let’s come out under the trees and play house,” suggested Polly to Priscilla.
“I don’t want to,” Priscilla murmured, a little fretfully, letting herself drop limply upon the veranda cushions with a whimper.
“My child, Ruthie Carter, has got the mumps and the doctor said I must take her to the seashore right away,” explained Polly, clasping the invalid-doll in her arms and trying to make herself believe she cared whether Ruthie Carter recovered from her attack or not.
Priscilla did not answer.
“Is your baby quite well, Mrs. Priscilla?” inquired Mrs. Polly politely.
Mrs. Priscilla shook her head silently, and after a few more unsuccessful attempts to engage her in conversation, Mrs. Polly gave it up and sauntered slowly across the lawn, bound for the seashore to which the imaginary doctor had advised her to take her ailing child. She chose the pretty, rustic summer-house called Pine Lodge, for her play to-day, because it was shady and quiet there, and its sides, which were open half-way down from the roof, let the breeze in unhindered. A bench ran round the walls of the place, and was very useful and convenient for housekeeping; purposes, for, with a little arrangement and imagination, it could be made to serve as table, cupboard, bed, piano, and a host of other things, just as one chose. One section of it only was forbidden ground: that running along the side of the summer-house that overhung the ravine. It was a rule remaining over from Priscilla’s baby-days that she was never to be left alone in Pine Lodge, and that she was never, never, never to mount upon that particular portion of the bench, for though now she was old enough to realize the danger of leaning over the wall’s edge, an accident might occur, and the ravine was deep and its steep walls rocky and sheer, while the tall trees that clung to them showed many a bare and unsupported root. When Polly had passed quite out of sight Priscilla began to cry. She had not wanted to play with her, but neither had she wanted Polly to go off and play by herself.
“She’s real mean to leave me all alone,” she sobbed irritably. “I don’t think she’s very polite.”