Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1880-10-01
NO. 232.
Gales ano Skettbes.
Continued from Thursday. }
OUR POLLY.
CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.
His kites, nicely mendcd were arranged
on a rough table he had made. his skates
lay near, and the General Washington. u
favorite sled. had evidently been carefully
busted and was standing on end leaning
against the tool chest And there i'm one
corner wrapped in an old shawl which
had been given the children to play tent
with, her cheeks stained with tears and
streaked with dust rubbed of her poor
little houSewifely fingers. lay the sleeping
Polly. maiden imprisoned in u fortress
with the drawbridge blown away.
Oh. the kissing and the hugging and
the questioning that followed And the half
digniied. half sobbng explanations. that
she thought she would just come i'm on her
way home and see il everything was
ready for George. and the sled was so
dusty that she stopped to wipe ii and do
two or three other things, and when she
was ready 10 go there was the ladder
blown away and ii was too far to Jump.
and il got so dark and she was SO cold
and frightened. but Ooh. trustiul Polly)
she knew somebody would come for her,
and so she put on the old shawl and wait
ed and went to sleep.
Years have gone by since our Polly's
adventure in the old barn. which is now
one of those traditional years that exist in
all families; and they say. in speaking of
this or that ''Oh! don't YOU know it hap
pened before" (or after, as the case may
be)'the Thanksgiving when Polly was
lost in the barn. Though Polly is eigh-
teen, and tall. stately maiden, she is our
own Polly STILL docilc, truthful and low
ing, and the very sunlight of the two
ls nt nnll md tna
come into the dignity of the Junior class,
and thinks he knows a great deal and en-
lghtens Polly with much JUNCTION, about
the doings of society" rs he sees il at
parties in the college town.
Ii is the afternoon before Thanksgiving,
and Polly is up at grandpa's, helping
Aunt Jane. 81 shan't send you home be-
fore they come tonight. dear" Aunt Jane
says, laughing, as she looks with loving
eyes at the sweet face flushed with the
heat of the great fire, and the chestnut
hair drawn back in masses from the broad
forehead and gathered in knot of falling
curls behind.
They all came in the evening, and after
talk and supper, Aunt Jane muilled up her
darling, and George said he would walk
down with her.
IL have something to tell you. Polly,''
he began, as soon as they were fairly out
of the house IL have been waiting till |
could see you. for speaking is so much
more satisfactory than writing, you
know
'Well." she said softly, "what is this
great news"
why, the fact is. Polly, that I'm the
happiest fellow in the world. I'm en-
gagged to the pretticst, sweetest girl IN
-, and ] mean TO get grandma TO ask
her down here next summer: and then
you'll know her I've told her about YOU.
and she longs to meet you. she saws. She
can teach you lots of things; she's such
stylish girl, and all that. Why, she's one
of the greatest bellies in -. and what
she finds in me to like, don't know--but
we are really engaged: so now congratu-
late me, Polly. You must be one of her
bridesmaids.
Polly congratulated warmly, of course.
but in such a hoarse voice that George de-
clared she had taken cold in that con-
founded night air, and wrapped her shawl
closer about her as they hurried on. He
went in for moment, just to speak TO
Uncle Henry and Aunt Lucy, and Polly
went out of the glare of the lamp-light,
and knelt down by the fire. with her back
to the three talkers--to warm herself. she
said. When he had gone, with a gay
''Good-by, till tomorrow. Polly" she
kissed father and mother and wen. up to
her own room. There all alone in the
silent night. Polly laid down the hopes of
her girlhood. and took up woman's
cross. and then, in faith and submission,
she said her prayers and fell asleep. The
next evening she was. as usual. the lie Of
the merry-making at grandpa's. but she
looked pale and tired, and her dark eyes
sometimes had such an expression of pain
that grandma told Aunt Jane she was
"sure that child wasn't well =, and grand
pa took her hand tenderly ~ she was wait
ing by his chair in pause Of some game,
and looking into her face said, MY little
Polly looks weary. Sit down and rest By
old granpa."
| CHAPTER III.
More years had gone by, and there were
some changes at the farm. Dear old
grandma Lad gone to her rest, and Polly's
father, in the prime of life. had fought
and died for his country at Antietam.
George had lived to learn that ''things
are not what they seem,' for he had been
most heartlessly Tilted by the - belle,
to whom he had ascribed, in the first days
Of their engagement, all the womanly
virtues under the sun.
He took it very much to heart. and was
so violent in his demonstrations of grief
to Polly, that she, compassionate soul,
was quite alarmed about him, thought his
future health and happiness seriously inn
perilled, and wondered at Aunt James
want of sympathy, when short do him
good was her only response to Polly's
chapter of aBxieties.
1t was only few days before Thanks
giving, and George, a civil engineer now,
was on his way to Washington to see
some railway magnate about an appoint
ment which he hoped to get on western
road then building. He had met an old
college chum in the train, and the two
were talking over old times.
Il say, Raymond, how is that sweet
Miss Mary Smith. your adopted cousin.
you know. remember her we'll when
she came to commencement the wear we