caress, or cry when they feel most, and all he could do to express his sympathy and penitence, was to wring his father's hand with a face full of respect, regret, and affection, and then bolt up stairs as if the furies were after him, as they were, in a mild and modern form.
16. A Dress Parade
THE weeks that followed taught the Shaws, as many other families have been taught, how rapidly riches take to themselves wings and fly away, when they once begin to go.
Mr. Shaw carried out his plans with an energy and patience that worked wonders, and touched the hearts of his hardest creditors. The big house was given up as soon as possible and the little house taken; being made comfortable with the furniture Madam left there when she went to live with her son. The old-fashioned things had been let with the house, and now seemed almost like a gift from Grandma, doubly precious in these troublous times. At the auction, several persons tried to show the family that, though they had lost their fortune, friends still remained, for one bid in Fanny's piano, and sent it to her; another secured certain luxurious articles for Mrs. Shaw's comfort; and a third saved such of Mr. Shaw's books as he valued most, for he had kept his word and given up everything, with the most punctilious integrity. So the little house was not bare, but made pleasant to their eyes by these waifs from the wreck, brought them by the tide of sympathy and good-will which soon set in. Everybody who knew them hastened to call, many from a real regard, but more from mere curiosity to 'see how they took it.' This was one of the hardest things they had to bear, and Tom used strong language more than once, when some fine lady came to condole, and went away to gossip. Polly's hopes of Mrs. Shaw were disappointed, for misfortune did not have a bracing effect.
She took to her bed at once, received her friends in tears and a point-lace cap, and cheered her family by plaintively inquiring when she was to be taken to the almshouse.
This was hard for Fanny; but after an interval of despair, she came to the conclusion that under the circumstances it was the best thing her mother could have done, and with something of her father's energy, Fanny shouldered the new burden, feeling that at last necessity had given her what she had long needed, something to do.
The poor girl knew as much of household affairs as Snip; but pride and the resolution
'to stand by Father,' kept up her courage, and she worked away with feverish activity at whatever task came first till, just as strength and heart were about to fail, order began to emerge from chaos and the vision of a home made happy and comfortable by her skill and care came to repay and sustain her.
Maud, being relieved from the fear of back-door beggary, soon became reconciled to bankruptcy; thought it rather a good joke, on the whole, for children like novelty, and don't care much for Mrs. Grundy. She regarded the new abode as a baby house on a large scale, where she was allowed to play her part in the most satisfactory manner.
From the moment when, on taking possession of the coveted room, she opened the doors of the three-cornered closet, and found a little kettle just like Polly's, standing there, she felt that a good time was coming for her and fell to dusting furniture, washing cups, and making toast, the happiest, fussiest little housewife in the city. For Maud inherited the notable gifts of her grandmother, and would have made a capital farmer's daughter, in spite of her city breeding.
Polly came and went through all these changes, faithful, helpful, and as cheery as she could be when her friends were in trouble. The parts seemed reversed now, and it was Polly who gave, Fanny who received; for where everything seemed strange and new to Fan, Polly was quite at home, and every one of the unfashionable domestic accomplishments now came into play, to the comfort of the Shaws, and the great satisfaction of Polly. She could not do enough to prove her gratitude for former favors, and went toiling and moiling about, feeling that the hardest, most disagreeable tasks were her especial duty. In the moving nothing suited her better than to trot up and down, lugging heavy things, to pound her fingers black and blue nailing carpets and curtains, and the day she nearly broke her neck tumbling down the cellar stairs, in her eagerness to see that Mrs. Shaw's wine was rightly stored, she felt that she was only paying her debts, and told Tom she liked it, when he picked her up looking as grimy as a chimney-sweep.
'You can turn your hand to anything, you clever girl, so do come and give me some advice, for I am in the depths of despair,' said Fanny when the 'maid-of-all-work' as Polly called herself, found a leisure hour.
'What is it? Moths in the furs, a smoky chimney, or small-pox next door?' asked Polly, as they entered Fan's room, where Maud was trying on old bonnets before the looking-glass.
'Actually I have nothing to wear,' began Fan impressively; 'I 've been too busy to think or care till now, but here it is nearly May and I have hardly a decent rag to my back.
Usually, you know, I just go to Mrs. O'Grady and tell her what I want; she makes my spring wardrobe, Papa pays the bill, and there I am. Now I 've looked into the matter, and I declare to you, Polly, I 'm frightened to see how much it costs to dress me.'
'Not so much as some girls I know,' said Polly encouragingly.
'Perhaps not, for I have a conscience, and taste is economy sometimes; but really, Polly, I have n't the heart to ask Papa for a cent just now, and yet I must have clothes.
You are such a genius for planning and working wonders, that I throw myself upon you and ask, 'How shall I make a spring wardrobe out of nothing?' '
'Let me see the 'nothing' before I advise. Bring out every rag you 've got, and we 'll see what can be done,' said Polly, looking as if she enjoyed the prospect, for she had a great deal of that feminine faculty which we call 'knack,' and much practice had increased it.
Fanny brought out her 'rags' and was astonished to see how many she had, for chair, sofa, bed, and bureau were covered, and still Maud, who was burrowing in the closets, kept crying, 'Here 's another.'
'There 's a discouraging heap of rubbish for you!' said Fan, as she added a faded muslin to the last pile.
'Now, to me your 'rubbish' looks very encouraging, because there is good material there, and not much worn-out finery, that 's my detestation, for you can't do anything with it. Let me see, five bonnets. Put the winter ones away till autumn, rip up the summer ones, and out of three old ones we 'll get a pretty new one, if my eyes don't deceive me.'
'I 'll rip, and then do let me see you make a bonnet, it must be so interesting,' said Maud, whipping out her scissors and eagerly beginning to reduce a shabby little bonnet to its original elements. 'Now the dresses,' continued Polly, who had rapidly sorted out the piles.
'Will you have the goodness to look at this?' said Fan, holding up a gray street suit faded past cure.
Polly whisked it wrong side out, and showing the clean, bright fabric, said, with a triumphant wave, 'Behold your new suit; fresh trimming and less of it will finish you off as smart as ever.'
'I never wore a turned dress in my life; do you suppose people will know it?' said Fan doubtfully.
