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Updated: June 29, 2025
The apron had several pockets, and certainly gave Polly a quaint and original appearance. "Here I am, father," she said. "I have come for the money, please." "The the what, my dear?" Dr. Maybright put up his eye-glass, and surveyed the little figure critically. "Are these pockets for your school-books?" he said. "It is not a bad idea; only don't lose them, Polly.
"Here's spirit for you, and who may your respected papa be, my dear? He seems to be mighty wise. And the wife of Micah Jones would much like to know his name." "You're a very rude unpleasant woman," said Polly. "Don't hold me, I won't be touched by you. My father is Dr. Maybright, of Sleepy Hollow, you must know his name quite well." The wife of Micah Jones dropped a supercilious curtsey.
"I makes due allowances for the young, for I says to myself, 'Jane Power, you was once, so to speak, like an unfledged chick yourself; but there's youth and youth, Dr. Maybright; and Miss Polly's of the kind as makes your 'air stand on hend." "Poor Polly," said the Doctor. "No, sir, begging your parding, if you was in the kitchen, it's 'poor Mrs. Power' you'd be a-saying.
Ricketts to do but to forget her vow and send off the two young people with her blessing. "Eh, but she's a dear young lady," she said, under her breath, apostrophizing Miss Maybright. "And Mag do set wonderful store by her, and no mistake. It ain't every young lady as 'ud think of my Maggie when she's going out pleasuring; but bless Miss Polly! she seems fairly took up with my poor gel."
Yes, poor Helen; I never showed my love for her more than when I undertook this journey: never, never. Oh! how desolate that great moor does look; I trust there are no robbers about. It's perfectly awful to be in a solitary cab, with anything but a civil driver, alone on these great moors. Well, well, how could Helen marry a man like Dr. Maybright, and come to live here?
Polly certainly had a soft heart, and although nothing could have mortified her more than the present state of affairs, she made up her mind to screen Maggie, and to be as little severe to her as she could. Dr. Maybright had reason again to congratulate himself when he sat down to a humble dinner of boiled potatoes.
Whatever she was at home, whatever her faults and failings, whatever her wild vagaries, or unreasonable moods, she somehow or other always managed to be first. First in play, first in naughtiness, first at her lessons, the best musician, the best artist, the best housekeeper, the best originator of sports and frolics on all occasions, was Polly Maybright.
Cameron, who had come downstairs in her bonnet, slammed the dining-room door after her, walked across the hall, and let herself out. It did not take her many minutes to reach the telegraph office. From, there she sent a brief message to Helen Maybright: "Sorry your father is ill. Expect me this evening with Daisy Rymple."
This was the family; the more refined neighbors rather dreaded them, and even the villagers spoke of most of them as "wondrous rampageous!" But Mrs. Maybright always smiled when unfriendly comments reached her ears. "Wait and see," she would say; "just quietly wait and see they are all, every one of them, the sweetest and most healthy-minded children in the world.
"Bless me!" turning to the other doctor, "do all these girls and boys belong to Maybright? And so you want the whole truth, Miss Miss " "I'm called Polly, sir." "The whole truth, Polly? Only God knows that. Your father was in a weak state of health; he had a shock and a chill. We feared mischief to the brain. Oh, no, he is by no means out of the wood yet.
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