In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few minutes in which to interview Old Tom, the gardener.
“Mr. Tom, do you know that a little girl will soon come here to live with Miss Polly?”
“A – what?” demanded the old man.
“A little girl – to live with Miss Polly. She told me so herself,” said Nancy. “It’s her niece; and she’s eleven years old.”
The man’s jaw fell.[7]
“Oh, it must be Miss Jennie’s little girl!”
“Who was Miss Jennie?”
“She was an angel,” breathed the man; “but the old master and mistress knew her as their oldest daughter. She was twenty when she married and went away from here long years ago. Her babies all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be her.”
“And she’s going to sleep in the attic – more shame to HER!” scolded Nancy.
Old Tom smiled.
“I wonder what Miss Polly will do with a child in the house,” he said.
“Well, I wonder what a child will do with Miss Polly in the house!” snapped Nancy.
The old man laughed.
“I’m afraid you aren’t fond of Miss Polly,” he grinned.
“As if ever anybody could be fond of her![8]” scorned Nancy.
“I guess maybe you didn’t know about Miss Polly’s love affair,” he said slowly.
“Love affair – HER! No!”
“You didn’t know Miss Polly as I did,” he said. “She used to be real handsome – and she would be now, if she’d let herself be.[9]”
“Handsome! Miss Polly!”
“Yes, she is different now, I know. It begun then – at the time of the trouble with her lover,” nodded Old Tom; “and she is bitter and prickly to deal with.”
“Nancy!” called a sharp voice.
“Y-yes, ma’am,” stammered Nancy; and hurried toward the house.