Pollie was sniffing.
“I wish I’d known. I was huffed a bit thinking I wasn’t to be much consideration in any changes you was making.”
“But what made you think of changes?” asked Mrs. Challoner. “This is no change. All will go on the same, though with your master away for a year, and then we shall hope that all will go on the same when he returns. It is only since this very morning, Pollie, that we have been quite sure this voyage can be arranged. You are the very first person I have told. We think those in a household, whose interests are naturally bound up together, should be the first to hear such news.”
“Didn’t you mention it to Mrs. Brand, m’m?” asked Pollie.
“Certainly not,” Lucy answered. “There was no use mentioning it to anybody when it might have come to nothing.”
Lucy rather wondered at this question. It did not occur to her that Mrs. Brand had had the girl to herself on the afternoon when Lucy had gone to see Dr. Ivery, nor that it could have been she who had put the idea of “changes” into the head of her sister’s servant. And Pollie kept the secret, as servants often do, or it would go hard with many a gadding and gossipping “lady.”
“You may trust me not to speak, m’m,” said poor Pollie, still sniffing. But she put such emphasis on “me” that it reminded her mistress that Mrs. Brand also knew of Pollie’s imminent departure and would be almost sure to blurt it out before Charlie. Lucy hated to ask her sister to keep a secret from him. It would be as useless, too, as painful, for Florence would be sure to “forget” or “not to think.” As such “forgetfulness” or “want of thought” always pleads “meaning no harm,” and resents indignation as harsh and uncharitable, there is nothing to be done but to prevent their harmful doings by keeping them out of the way.
And while Lucy was pondering what steps she could take in this direction, she got warning that Charlie might get an impression of trouble of some sort and question the facts out of poor Pollie however loyally she might try to keep them back. For Pollie seemed unable to keep from “sniffing,” and when she went into the drawing-room the sight of Mr. Challoner brought on a very bad attack.
“Why, what’s the matter, Pollie?” asked he, quite innocently. “No bad news from home, I hope?”
“Oh, no, sir! Yes—oh, it’s a-thinking of you a-going away, sir!” said Pollie desperately, and rushed from the room.