“a quiet little thing,” and finding her not up to society talk, blandly
ignored the pretty child, and devoted themselves to the young
ladies. Fortunately for Polly, she forgot all about them in her
enjoyment of the fine music, which she felt rather than understood,
and sat listening with such a happy face, that several true
music-lovers watched her smilingly, for her heart gave a blithe
welcome to the melody which put the little instrument in tune. It
was dusk when they went out, and Polly was much relieved to find
the carriage waiting for them, because playing third fiddle was not
to her taste, and she had had enough of it for one day.
“I ‘m glad those men are gone; they did worry me so talking, when
I wanted to hear,” said Polly, as they rolled away.
“Which did you like best?” asked Fanny, with a languid air of
superiority.
“The plain one, who did n’t say much; he picked up my muff when
it tumbled down, and took care of me in the crowd; the others did
n’t mind anything about me.”
“They thought you were a little girl, I suppose.”
“My mother says a real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a
woman; so I like Mr. Sydney best, because he was kind to me.”
“What a sharp child you are, Polly. I should n’t have thought you ‘d
mind things like that,” said Fanny, beginning to understand that
there may be a good deal of womanliness even in a little girl.
“I ‘m used to good manners, though I do live in the country,”
replied Polly, rather warmly, for she did n’t like to be patronized
even by her friends.
“Grandma says your mother is a perfect lady, and you are just like
her; so don’t get in a passion with those poor fellows, and I ‘ll see
that they behave better next time. Tom has no manners at all, and
you don’t complain of him,” added Fan, with a laugh.
“I don’t care if he has n’t; he ‘s a boy, and acts like one, and I can
get on with him a great deal better than I can with those men.”
Fanny was just going to take Polly to task for saying “those men”
in such a disrespectful tone, when both were startled by a
smothered “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” from under the opposite seat.
“It ‘s Tom!” cried Fanny; and with the words out tumbled that
incorrigible boy, red in the face, and breathless with suppressed
laughter. Seating himself, he surveyed the girls as if well satisfied
with the success of his prank, and waiting to be congratulated upon
it. “Did you hear what we were saying?” demanded Fanny,
uneasily.
“Oh, did n’t I, every word?” And Tom exulted over them visibly.
“Did you ever see such a provoking toad, Polly? Now, I suppose
you ‘ll go and tell papa a great story.”
“P’r’aps I shall, and p’r’aps I shan’t. How Polly did hop when I
crowed! I heard her squeal, and saw her cuddle up her feet.”
“And you heard us praise your manners, did n’t you?” asked Polly,
slyly.
“Yes, and you liked ’em; so I won’t tell on you,” said Tom, with a
re-assuring nod.
“There ‘s nothing to tell.”
“Ain’t there, though? What do you suppose the governor will say to
you girls going on so with those dandies? I saw you.”
“What has the Governor of Massachusetts to do with us?” asked
Polly, trying to look as if she meant what she said.
“Pooh! you know who I mean; so you need n’t try to catch me up,
as grandma does.”
“Tom, I ‘ll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It was
n’t my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I could n’t help
their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa need n’t be
angry; for I behave ever so much better than some of the girls.
Don’t I, Polly?”
“Bargain?” observed Tom, with an eye to business.
“If you won’t go and make a fuss, telling what you ‘d no right to
hear it was so mean to hide and listen; I should think you ‘d be