Polly of the Circus Part 11

"Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus," said Hasty, uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake; but before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the house, carrying baskets and food, which Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. She looked at the girl's troubled face and drooping shoulders in surprise.

"What make you look so serious, Honey?"

"Just thinking," said Polly absently.

"My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!" She was anxious to draw the girl out of her reverie.

"Do you like it?" Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a moment before. "Do you think Mr. John will like it?"

"Ma.s.se John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. I done got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you think HE ebber seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve for all dat man know." Polly looked disappointed. "But udder folks sees," Mandy continued, comfortingly, "an' you certainly look mighty fine. Why, you's just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!"

"Yes, I'm well now and able to work again." There was no enthusiasm in her tone, for Hasty's news had made her realise how unwelcome the old life would be to her.

"Work! You does work all de time. My stars! de help you is to Ma.s.sa John."

"Do you think so? Do I help him?--Do I?"

"Of course you does. You tells him things to do in Sunday-school what the chillun like, an' you learns him to laugh and 'joy himself, an' a lot of things what n.o.body else could a-learned 'im."

"You mustn't say 'learned him,'" Polly corrected; "you must say 'taught him.' You can't 'learn' anybody anything. You can only 'teach' them."

"Lordy sakes! I didn't know dat." She rolled her large eyes at her young instructress, and saw that Polly looked very serious. "She's gwine ter have anudder one a dem 'ticlar spells" thought Mandy, and she made ready to protest.

"See here, ain't you nebber----"

She was interrupted by a quick "Have you never" from Polly.

"It dun make no difference what you say," Mandy snapped, "so long as folks understands you." She always grew restive under these ordeals; but Polly's firm controlled manner generally conquered.

"Oh, yes, it does," answered Polly. "I used to think it didn't; but it does. You have to say things in a certain way or folks look down on you."

"I's satisfied de way I be," declared Mandy, as she plumped herself down on the garden bench and began to fidget with resentment.

"The way I am," Polly persisted, sweetly.

"See here, chile, is day why you been a-settin' up nights an' keepin de light burnin'?"

"You mustn't say 'setting up;' you must say 'sitting up.' Hens set----"

"So do I," interrupted Mandy; "I's doin' it NOW." For a time she preserved an injured silence, then turned upon Polly vehemently. "If I had to think ob all dat ere foolishness eber' time I open my mouth, I'd done been tongue-tied afore I was born."

"I could teach you in no time," volunteered Polly, eagerly.

"I don't want to be teached," protested Mandy, doggedly. "Hast Jones says I's too smart anyhow. Men don't like women knowin' too much--it skeers 'em. I's good enough for my old man, and I ain't a-tryin' to get n.o.body else's," Mandy wound up flatly.

"But he'd like you all the better," persisted Polly, laughing.

"I don' WANT to be liked no better by NO n.i.g.g.e.r," snapped Mandy. "I's a busy woman, I is." She made for the house, then curiosity conquered her and she came back to Polly's side. "See here, honey, whose been l'arnin'

you all dem nonsense?"

"I learn from Mr. Douglas. I remember all the things he tells me, and at night I write them down and say them over. Do you see this, Mandy?" She took a small red book from her belt and put it into Mandy's black chubby fists.

"I see some writin', if dat's what you mean," Mandy answered, helplessly.

"These are my don'ts," Polly confided, as she pointed enthusiastically to worn pages of finely written notes.

"You'se WHAT, chile?"

"The things I mustn't do or say."

"An' you'se been losin' yoah beauty sleep for dem tings?" Mandy looked incredulous.

"I don't want Mr. John to feel ashamed of me," she said with growing pride.

"Well, you'd catch Mandy a-settin' up for----"

"Oh, oh! What did I tell you, Mandy?" Polly pointed reproachfully to the reminder in the little red book. It was a fortunate thing that Willie interrupted the lesson at this point, for Mandy's temper was becoming very uncertain. The children had grown weary waiting for Polly, and Willie had been sent to fetch her. Polly offered to help Mandy with the decorations, but Willie won the day, and she was running away hand in hand with him when Douglas came out of the house.

"Wait a minute!" he called. "My, how fine you look!" He turned Polly about and surveyed the new gown admiringly.

"He did see it! He did see it!" cried Polly, gleefully.

"Of course I did. I always notice everything, don't I, Mandy?"

"You suah am improvin' since Miss Polly come," Mandy grunted.

"Come, Willie!" called the girl, and ran out laughing through the trees.

"What's this?" Douglas took the small book from Mandy's awkward fingers, and began to read: "'Hens set--'" He frowned.

"Oh, dem's jes' Miss Polly's 'don'ts,'" interrupted Mandy, disgustedly.

"Her 'don'ts'?"

"She done been set--sit--settin' up nights tryin' to learn what you done tole her," stuttered Mandy.

"Dear little Polly," he murmured, then closed the book and put it into his pocket.

Chapter IX

DOUGLAS was turning toward the house when the Widow Willoughby came through the wicker gate to the left of the parsonage, carrying bunting for the social. She was followed by Miss Perkins with a bucket of pickles, which Mandy promptly placed on top of Mrs. Elverson's ice cream. The women explained that they had come to put the finishing touches to the decorations. If anything was needed to increase Mandy's dislike of the widow, it was this announcement.

Mrs. Willoughby was greatly worried because her children had not been home since the afternoon school session. Upon learning that they were with Polly, she plainly showed her displeasure; and Douglas dispatched Mandy for them. She saw that her implied distrust of Polly had annoyed him, and she was about to apologise, when two of the deacons arrived on the scene, also carrying baskets and parcels for the social.

Strong led the way. He always led the way and always told Elverson what to think. They had been talking excitedly as they neared the parsonage, for Strong disapproved of the recent changes which the pastor had made in the church service. He and Douglas had clashed more than once since the baseball argument, and the deacon had realised more and more that he had met a will quite as strong as his own. His failure to bend the parson to his way of thinking was making him irritable, and taking his mind from his business.

"Can you beat that!" he would exclaim as he turned away from some disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.