CHAPTER II.

_LAURA'S SECRET._

POLLIE was fifteen, and life had flowed along peacefully as to outward circumstances. But beneath the surface, there were currents and rocks and hidden difficulties which no one guessed but herself.

From her earliest days, her strong will had set itself up in opposition to her mother, and though at times her sweetness of disposition conquered, life with her was indeed a hard struggle.

Her father, tender and wise as he was, pleaded with her in vain; or if he succeeded in shewing her her duty for a little while, some difficulty was sure shortly to arise, and then all her good intentions flew to the winds, and Pollie was as far from heartfelt submission as ever.

So she set out to visit her aunt Elizabeth with a clouded heart. Her mother's preparations, kind and thoughtful as they were, gave her but little pleasure, for her heart was sore and hard. If only she could been have taken to her mother's heart with a forgiving hug, she thought she could have gone in rags willingly!

So her father drove to the market-town and put her into the train under care of the guard, to be set down at her aunt's station, nearly a hundred miles off and halfway between her home and Exeter.

"Remember there's always the blessed Lord and Saviour, everywhere," were his last words, whispered as he kissed her in the train.

And Pollie set forth on her journey, and in due time arrived at her destination.

It was three years since she had visited at her aunt's, and she did not know the tall cousin who was standing on the platform waiting for her.

Laura, a pretty girl of eighteen, soon spied her, however, for Pollie had not altered much since she had last seen her. She and Clara stepped forward and claimed their country cousin, who looked quite shy when she saw what fashionable young ladies were come to meet her.

"Here is the trap," said Clara. "Where is your box, Mary?"

Pollie did not know that her uncle had a trap. She began to be afraid they would have got too grand for her.

"How you have grown, Mary," said her aunt as they sat at tea, "but you have the same face. I should know you anywhere. When the girls have smartened you up a bit, you will look quite as old as Clara."

Pollie bit her lips. She had thought her mother had done all that was necessary for her, and in the remembrance of her thoughtful care, she felt more tender towards her than she had ever done. She said to herself that her mother would never have said such a thing as that to a newly-come visitor.

A wave of home-sickness seized her, and she had much ado to keep back her tears.

Tea was over at last, and Pollie made her escape.

"Come upstairs and unpack your things," said Clara. "I do love seeing people's new things!"

Pollie murmured something of not having so very many things, but the girls did not seem to hear. And presently all her clothes were spread out on the bed, and her cousins were looking them over with such remarks as "That will be for mornings—with a nice ribbon for her neck." "That would be pretty fair for afternoons if that trimming were put on better—I daresay we could do that. Well, what else have you got?"

"That is my best dress," said Pollie, hesitating. "Isn't it good enough?"

"That," asked Laura, with an intonation of surprise that made Pollie's cheeks burn. "Oh, I thought perhaps you had another in the tray of your box."

"Never mind," said Clara presently, "they will do all right. Ma said she should get Mary a dress if necessary. You see, Pollie, we go out ever so much, and have to be nice. But these will do for common very well."

Laura had turned away towards the glass, and was putting on a very stylish hat.

"Is that yours?" asked Pollie, glad to leave the topic of her wardrobe for that of her cousins. She wished heartily that she were back at the mill, and could hear her mother's voice, saying in those quick tones, "There's your father, Pollie, run and open the door!"

Instead came Laura's complacent answer—"Yes, of course it is. Do you like it?"

"It is sweetly pretty," said Pollie admiringly, "only it looks almost like a fashion-book."

"Do you think so?" asked Laura, gratified; then added with a giggle to her sister, "That's what H. F. said yesterday."

"Who is H. F.?" asked Pollie.

"Oh, my dear, you don't know of course. H. F. is a new star that has dawned on our horizon. You will see him all in good time—from afar—if you keep your eyes open."

Pollie blushed, she hardly knew why. This seemed so different from the way anyone talked at home.

"Hush!" said Clara. "Here's ma."

"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Brown, "what are you doing?"

"I am going to the Cleavers, ma," said Laura, "and Clara is going to help Mary put away her things, and then they are going to take you out if you care to go."

"I do not know that I do to-night. Clara can come down and read to me while I finish that blouse for her."

"Oh, I don't want to read," said Clara, "it would be so dull. Besides, I am going out, ma, such a lovely evening. If you want to read so particularly, do not trouble about my blouse."

Mrs. Brown looked vexed. "Is that the way you do to your mother, Mary?" she asked, as she listlessly turned over Pollie's dresses.

"I don't know, auntie," hesitated Pollie, "because I haven't anywhere to go you know—"

"Not anywhere to go? Are you buried alive, child? You look rather like it!"

"Ma," said Clara, "don't say that. Come, Pollie, I'll turn up your hair for you, and see if I shan't smarten you up! That will be fun. And then you and I will go out, and ma can read that old novel in peace."

As she spoke, she drew out the bow that tied Pollie's long plait, and rapidly undid her beautiful shining braids.

"What a lot. Look, ma! Would you not give something if we girls had such a head of hair?"

Mrs. Brown did not answer. She gave half a glance at her niece, and then said suddenly, "I tell you what, if Clara is bent on going out, we will go to-night and get you a dress for best, or a couple of dresses. Then they can be made at once, and will be ready in a day or two."

"All right," said Clara, "I shan't be long over this. That is coming splendidly. Now, what dress will you put on to go shopping with ma? This best one is the only one that is fit."

Mrs. Brown had left the room, so had Laura.

"I say, Pollie, I'll tell you a secret, only you must keep as still as still about it. That I know you can do. But if ma were to guess, she would spoil all the fun."

Pollie was silent, debating whether she should receive the confidence or not, and half afraid that stormy times were in front of her. Before she could make any decision, Clara had gone on in a low tone—

"Laura is very much admired, as I daresay you can guess."

"She is very pretty—"

"And where we go they have a lot of folks round, and young men from the town. We are going to have a picnic next week, and then you will see some of them. But there is one above all the rest that Laura favours and there is a little mystery about him which makes him doubly interesting. He's been abroad a great deal, but he told Laura he had never seen anyone to compare with her—"

"Does he come here?" asked Pollie innocently.

"Oh no, my dear. How green you are! Even if ma were to allow it, pa is dreadfully strict, almost as bad as uncle at the mill, and he would think Laura a great deal too young. Oh, no, it's our secret at present. Time enough when—"

Clara paused, and Pollie looked up with an earnest gaze into her cousin's face.

"I'm afraid it isn't right," she said slowly. "I wish you hadn't told me—or, at least, I wish that Laura and you wouldn't do anything like that."

"Like what?" asked Clara, drawing back a little. "Don't be straight-laced, whatever you do, Pollie!"

"I didn't know I was," said Pollie.

"Of course you were! Would you have us bow to any young man we meet, and say we must not speak to him on any account?"

Pollie felt very foolish, and did not know what to answer, while still she felt that her favourite cousin had grown different since the year before, when they had had such a happy time together at the mill.

"There! Now you look lovely," said Clara. "Just peep in the glass. Put on this dress now, Mary, and I'll go and tell ma that we are nearly ready."

So Pollie was left alone.

Oh for her father to tell her what was right and wrong. She felt all mixed up, and so home-sick that she could willingly have packed her box again and set off home that very minute.

She sat down on a chair by the window and swiped away two or three scalding tears.

Why would not her dresses do, and why had her cousins glanced at each other, as they lifted out the hat her mother had trimmed for her with such care?

"Pollie, Pollie, where are you?" called Clara. "Ma is waiting, and she is quite vexed we have been so long."

Mrs. Brown had a cloud on her brow. "Put on your other hat, will you, Mary, my dear? As we are going shopping," she said, as Pollie ran down into the hall.

For a moment Pollie paused, utter refusal in her heart and in her eyes. Then courtesy to her aunt and hostess prevailed, and she turned upstairs again slowly, thinking that this was the very hardest thing she had ever had to do in all her life.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]