Polly spent some hours of that day in a somewhat mysterious occupation. Instead of helping, as she had done lately, in quite an efficient way, with the baby, for she was[Pg 17] a very bright child, and could be most charming and attractive to the smallest living creature when she chose, she left nurse and the little brown-eyed baby to their own devices, and took up a foraging expedition through the house. She called it her raid, and Polly’s raid proved extremely disturbing to the domestic economy of the household. For instance, when Susan, the very neat housemaid, had put all the bedrooms in perfect order, and was going to her own room to change her dress and make herself tidy, it was very annoying to hear Polly, in a peremptory tone, desiring her to give her the keys of the linen-press.

“For,” said that young lady, “I’m going to look through the towels this morning, Susan, to see which of them want darning, and you had better stay with me, to take away those that have thin places in them.”

“Oh, dear me, Miss Polly,” said Susan, rather pertly, “the towels is seen to in the proper rotation. You needn’t be a fretting your head about ’em, miss. This ain’t the morning for the linen-press, miss. It’s done at its proper time and hour.”

“Give me the key at once, Susan, and don’t answer,” said Polly. “There, hold your apron—I’ll throw the towels in. What a lot—I don’t believe we want half as many. When I take the reins of office next week, I’ll put away quite half of these towels. There can’t be waste going on in the house—I won’t have it, not when I housekeep, at any rate. Susan, wasn’t that a little round speck of a hole in that towel? Ah, I thought so. You put it aside, Susan, you’ll have to darn it this afternoon. Now then, let me see, let me see.”

Polly worked vigorously through the towels, holding them up to the light to discover their thin places, pinching them in parts, and feeling their texture between her finger and thumb. In the end she pronounced about a dozen unworthy of domestic service, and Susan was desired to spend her afternoon in repairing them.

“I can’t, then, Miss Polly,” said the much injured housemaid. “It ain’t neither the day nor the hour, and I haven’t got one scrap of proper darning thread left.”

“I’ll go to the village, then, and get some,” said Polly. “It’s only a mile away. Things can’t be neglected—it isn’t right. Take the towels, Susan, and let me find them mended to-morrow morning;” and the young lady tripped off with a very bright color in her cheeks, and the key of the linen-press in her pocket.

Her next visit was to the kitchen regions.

“Oh, Mrs. Power,” she said to the cook, “I’ve come to see the stores. It isn’t right that they shouldn’t be looked into, is it, in case of anything falling short. Fancy if you were run out of pearl barley, Mrs. Power, or allspice, or nutmegs, or mace. Oh, dear, it makes me quite shiver to think of it! What a mess you would be in, if you hadn’t all your ingredients handy, in case you were making a plum-cake, or[Pg 18] some of those dear little tea-cakes, or a custard, or something of that sort. Now, if you’ll just give me the keys, we’ll pay a visit to the store-room, and see what is likely to be required. I have my tablet here, and I can write the order as I look through.”

Mrs. Power was a red-faced and not a very good-humored woman. She was, however, an excellent cook and a careful, prudent servant. Mrs. Maybright had found her, notwithstanding her very irascible temper, a great comfort, for she was thoroughly honest and conscientious, but even from her late mistress Mrs. Power would never brook much interference; it is therefore little to be wondered at that Polly’s voluminous speech was not very well received.

Mrs. Power’s broad back was to the young lady, as she danced gleefully into the kitchen, and it remained toward her, with one ear just slightly turned in her direction, all the time she was speaking.

Mrs. Power was busy at the moment removing the fat from a large vessel full of cold soup. She has some pepper and salt, and nutmegs and other flavoring ingredients on the table beside her, and when Polly’s speech came to a conclusion she took up the pepper canister and certainly flavored the soup with a very severe dose.

“If I was you, I’d get out of the hot kitchen, child—I’m busy, and not attending to a word you’re talking about.”

No answer could have been more exasperating to Polly. She, too, had her temper, and had no idea of being put down by twenty Mrs. Powers.

“Take care, you’re spoiling the soup,” she said. “That’s twice too much pepper—and oh, what a lot of salt! Don’t you know, Mrs. Power, that it’s very wicked to waste good food in that way—it is, really, perhaps you did not think of it in that light, but it is. I’m afraid you can’t ever have attended any cookery classes, Mrs. Power, or you’d know better than to put all that pepper into that much soup. Why it ought to be—it ought to be—let me see, I think it’s the tenth of an ounce to half a gallon of soup. I’m not quite sure, but I’ll look up the cookery lectures and let you know. Now, where’s the key of the store-room—we’d better set to work for the morning is going on, and I have a great deal on my hands. Where’s the key of the store-room, Mrs. Power?”

“There’s only one key that I know much about at the present moment,” replied the exasperated cook, “and that’s the key of the kitchen-door; come, child—I’m going to put you on the other side of it;” and so saying, before Polly was in the least aware of her intention, she was caught up in Mrs. Power’s stalwart arms, and placed on the flags outside the kitchen, while the door was boldly locked in her face.

This was really a check, almost a checkmate, and for a time Polly quite shook with fury, but after a little she sufficiently recovered herself to reflect that the reins of authority had not yet been absolutely placed in her hands, and it might be wisest for her to keep this defeat to herself.

“Poor old Power! you won’t be here long when I’m housekeeper,” reflected Polly. “It would not be right—you’re not at all a good servant. Why, I know twice as much already as you do.”

She went slowly upstairs, and going to the school-room, where the girls were all busying themselves in different fashions, sat down by her own special desk, and made herself very busy dividing a long old-fashioned rosewood box into several compartments by means of stout cardboard divisions. She was really a clever little maid in her own way, and the box when finished looked quite neat. Each division was labeled, and Polly’s cheeks glowed as she surveyed her handiwork.

“What a very queer box,” said Dolly, coming forward. “What are you so long about, Poll Parrot? And, oh, what red cheeks!”

“Never you mind,” said Polly, shutting up her box. “It’s finished now, and quite ready for father to see to-night. I’m going to become a very important personage, Miss Doll—so you’d better begin to treat me with respect. Oh, dear, where’s the cookery book? Helen, do you know where the ”Lectures on Elementary Cookery“ is? Just fancy, Nell, cook doesn’t know how much pepper should go to a gallon of soup! Did you ever hear of such shameful ignorance?”

“Why, you surely have not been speaking to her on the subject?” said Helen, who was busily engaged darning Bunny’s socks; she raised her head and looked at Polly in some surprise as she spoke.

“Oh, have I not, though?” Polly’s charming, merry face twinkled all over.

“I saw Susan crying just now,” interposed Mabel. “She said Polly had been—why, what is the matter, Poll?”

“Nothing,” said Poll, “only if I were you, Mabel, I wouldn’t tell tales out of school. I’m going to be a person of importance, so if you’re wise, all of you, you’ll keep at my blind side. Oh dear! where is that cookery book? Girls, you may each tell me what puddings you like best, and what cake, and what dish for breakfast, and——”

But here the dinner gong put an end to a subject of much interest.