gossip; but Belle, Trix, and Fanny went to lunch at a fashionable
ice-cream saloon near by, and Polly meekly followed, not daring to
hint at the ginger-bread grandma had put in her pocket for
luncheon. So the honest, brown cookies crumbled away in
obscurity, while Polly tried to satisfy her hearty appetite on one ice
and three macaroons.
The girls seemed in great spirits, particularly after they were
joined by a short gentleman with such a young face that Polly
would have called him a boy, if he had not worn a tall beaver.
Escorted by this impressive youth, Fanny left her unfortunate
friends to return to school, and went to walk, as she called a slow
promenade down the most crowded streets. Polly discreetly fell
behind, and amused herself looking into shop-windows, till Fanny,
mindful of her manners, even at such an interesting time, took her
into a picture gallery, and bade her enjoy the works of art while
they rested. Obedient Polly went through the room several times,
apparently examining the pictures with the interest of a
connoisseur, and trying not to hear the mild prattle of the pair on
the round seat. But she could n’t help wondering what Fan found so
absorbing in an account of a recent German, and why she need
promise so solemnly not to forget the concert that afternoon.
When Fanny rose at last, Polly’s tired face reproached her; and
taking a hasty leave of the small gentleman, she turned homeward,
saying, confidentially, as she put one hand in Polly’s muff, “Now,
my dear, you must n’t say a word about Frank Moore, or papa will
take my head off. I don’t care a bit for him, and he likes Trix; only
they have quarrelled, and he wants to make her mad by flirting a
little with me. I scolded him well, and he promised to make up
with her. We all go to the afternoon concerts, and have a gay time,
and Belle and Trix are to be there to-day; so just keep quiet, and
everything will be all right.”
“I ‘m afraid it won’t,” began Polly, who, not being used to secrets,
found it very hard to keep even a small one.
“Don’t worry, child. It ‘s none of our business; so we can go and
enjoy the music, and if other people flirt, it won’t be our fault,”
said Fanny, impatiently.
“Of course not; but, then, if your father don’t like you to do so,
ought you to go?”
“I tell mamma, and she don’t care. Papa is fussy, and grandma
makes a stir about every blessed thing I do. You will hold your
tongue, won’t you?”
“Yes; I truly will; I never tell tales.” And Polly kept her word,
feeling sure Fan did n’t mean to deceive her father, since she told
her mother everything.
“Who are you going with?” asked Mrs. Shaw, when Fanny
mentioned that it was concert-day, just before three o’clock.
“Only Polly; she likes music, and it was so stormy I could n’t go
last week, you know,” answered Fan; adding, as they left the house
again, “If any one meets us on the way, I can’t help it, can I?”
“You can tell them not to, can’t you?”
“That ‘s rude. Dear me! here ‘s Belle’s brother Gus he always goes.
Is my hair all right, and my hat?
Before Polly could answer, Mr. Gus joined them as a matter of
course, and Polly soon found herself trotting on behind, feeling
that things were not “all right,” though she did n’t know how to
mend them. Being fond of music, she ignorantly supposed that
every one else went for that alone, and was much disturbed by the
whispering that went on among the young people round her. Belle
and Trix were there in full dress; and, in the pauses between
different pieces, Messrs. Frank and Gus, with several other
“splendid fellows,” regaled the young ladies with college gossip,
and bits of news full of interest, to judge from the close attention
paid to their eloquent remarks. Polly regarded these noble beings
with awe, and they recognized her existence with the
condescension of their sex; but they evidently considered her only