Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1880-04-09

DARK DAYS.
London, on the very hottest of July days,
is not, perhaps, the place of all others where
one would choose to live, always supposing
that the power of choice were left with us
We should find the glare ON the pavem6 nts
and on the white houses, the close, oppres-
siYe atmosphere, the brown and withored
grass in the squares, perfectly iDsupportable
after few days, and we should fly to COwes
or Ryde, to Norway or New York for change
and refreshment.
But if, like Polly Marker md ''the boys"
We were moncyless, homeless, friendless, out
side the great Babylon, We should probably
spend the July days as she did, and revel, as
the boys used to do, in the Jolly heat"
Polly was the eldest of the family by four
years and, if you care to look at her as she
stands clnging to the ratings of the Square
gardens, l think you will agree with me that
there is something in her face that makes you
wish to look again Straight soft hair laid
smoothly on each side Of a narrow head, sur
mounted by sunbonnet wide, sad mouth
and humorous eyes that belle, by their sud.
den twinkling glances, the story of the face.
The eyes are n family feature, moreover, on
ly Dicks are larger, and the lashes that shade
them are more indsputably Irish, and are
Polly's pride. Dick is standing with his
hands in his pockets, leaning against lamp
post whistling, while the baby lies lazily at
his feet. sucking the brushes out of his shoe
black box-for the whole family are waiting
for n job
Suddenly Polly. who has been gazing in
tently and wistfully at the geraniums in the
Square, and making believe she is a lady and
this is her own garden, drops her hands hast
lily from the railings and retreats backward
toward the boys as the Square gardener
shakes his fist at her from the inside. And
if you could give me few flowers for the
evening. Stanley" she says, in a loud clear
voice for she is still making believe" that
this is her own gardener Fl shall be much
obliged"
"Oh, l say, Polly says Dick, remoLstra-
tingly, as the baby sets up howl of anguish,
you're just treading on him, you know, and
you should just look where you are going,
you know"
Pollys dream thus rudely disturbed, sho
became prosaic instantly picks up the box
she has upset, gives the baby an admonitory
slap and thumps him down on the paw ement
some two yards further off, where he cries
privately, in silly, whimpering way, for
some minutes, and then begins a laborious
progress toward the backing box again.
Suddenly out of Green street, over which
the afternoon shadows were folding down,
horse came picking its way daintily into qui-
ct, sunny Grosvenor Square. The horse was
"A wicked looking chestnut and it came up
the centre of the road tossiI Q its pretty head
and stepping high with its four white stock
inged-feet. The whole family rose with one
accord, and Polly pointed out the beautiful
creature for babys admiration, but Dick had
caught sight of the rider and was standing
mOtonless. The rider was a lady-young
enough in reality, but old to Dick, to whom
twenty lay in such very dim future.
She sat her horse well and lightly, looking
straight between the delicate, sensitive ears.
She had golden brown hair that the sun
caught and gilded into a glory, and she had
brown eyes that lighted upon the children
presently as they stood watching her. Her
groom had just turned the corner ms she beck
oned to Dick and handed him letter.
"Will you drop that into the letter-box for
me ?" she said, ''and here is sixpence"
Dick took the letter, touching his ragged
curls to the sweet eyes and shining face
then he closed his hand on the money, and
darted across the road to drop the letter into
the box.
The lady turned and called out, THANK
you, as she passed him, cantering out OF the
square, and smiled again, leaving Dick gaz-
ing after her entranced.
what a beautiful lady !" he said going
back to Polly's side with sigh.
Yes, very pretty, said Polly; 'and, my
what a horse I"
She had such low voice !" said Dick.
Yes, precious low," said Polly; II
couldn't hear a word she said. My how
could she come a-walking into the Square
like that wouldn't have been a-cantering,
just"
Hadn't we better go home ?" venture d
Dick, presently there's no use standin 6
here all day"
How much did she give you ?" said prac-
tical Polly, stretching out her hand to touch
the one that covered the sixpence.
"Sxpence, said Dick, opening his fingers
but there was q mistake somewhere, for in the
middle of his hot little palm lay a shining
sovereign, and all the glory of the sinking
sun seemed to flicker in little shafts of light on
the piece of gold.
Shut your hand tight" said Polly, in a
breathless whisper-''the gardener, you
know, and wen go home"
"But mayn't We spend the sixpence p said
Dick, aggrieved while his lips quivered-
"just fCr dinner, Polly?"
"Of course" said Polly, sharply wen
change it and have dinner, and keep the
change only don't cry, Dickie, and if you'll
take baby, I'll carry the box"
They sauntered along, in little procession
of three, all down Green street and into
ulrlGf, ufehrler part OF tue lOHu-ulNeu
down side streets and alleys to little dinner
shop that Polly knew, where the procession
stopped.
0Two slices of bread and two bacons,"
said Polly, to whom the possession of the
sovereign impaired a novel dignity and
ha'porth of milk, and this to change, Mrs
Nixon"
Mrs. Nixon rung the coin down on the
counter in a business-like way, and then
looked. sharply at Polly for minute and
said:
"You're rich, arn't you, my dear ?-and
where did it come fromT'
ooh, we've got it to change" said Polly,
land we're to keep the sixpence."
'Well you're honest children, said Mrs
Nixon kindly, land take after your mother
so there's your dinners, and there S the change