confectionery. Fanny liked it, because she was used to it, and had
never known anything better; but Polly had, and often felt like a
little wood-bird shut up in a gilded cage. Nevertheless, she was
much impressed by the luxuries all about her, enjoyed them,
wished she owned them, and wondered why the Shaws were not a
happier family. She was not wise enough to know where the
trouble lay; she did not attempt to say which of the two lives was
the right one; she only knew which she liked best, and supposed it
was merely another of her “old-fashioned” ways.
Fanny’s friends did not interest her much; she was rather afraid of
them, they seemed so much older and wiser than herself, even
those younger in years. They talked about things of which she
knew nothing and when Fanny tried to explain, she did n’t find
them interesting; indeed, some of them rather shocked and puzzled
her; so the girls let her alone, being civil when they met, but
evidently feeling that she was too “odd” to belong to their set.
Then she turned to Maud for companionship, for her own little
sister was excellent company, and Polly loved her dearly. But Miss
Maud was much absorbed in her own affairs, for she belonged to a
“set” also; and these mites of five and six had their “musicals,”
their parties, receptions, and promenades, as well as their elders;
and, the chief idea of their little lives seemed to be to ape the
fashionable follies they should have been too innocent to
understand. Maud had her tiny card-case, and paid calls, “like
mamma and Fan”; her box of dainty gloves, her jewel-drawer, her
crimping-pins, as fine and fanciful a wardrobe as a Paris doll, and
a French maid to dress her. Polly could n’t get on with her at first,
for Maud did n’t seem like a child, and often corrected Polly in her
conversation and manners, though little mademoiselle’s own were
anything but perfect. Now and then, when Maud felt poorly, or had
a “fwactious” turn, for she had “nerves” as well as mamma, she
would go to Polly to “be amoosed,” for her gentle ways and kind
forbearance soothed the little fine lady better than anything else.
Polly enjoyed these times, and told stories, played games, or went
out walking, just as Maud liked, slowly and surely winning the
child’s heart, and relieving the whole house of the young tyrant
who ruled it.
Tom soon got over staring at Polly, and at first did not take much
notice of her, for, in his opinion, “girls did n’t amount to much,
anyway”; and, considering, the style of girl he knew most about,
Polly quite agreed with him. He occasionally refreshed himself by
teasing her, to see how she ‘d stand it, and caused Polly much
anguish of spirit, for she never knew where he would take her
next. He bounced out at her from behind doors, booed at her in
dark entries, clutched her feet as she went up stairs, startled her by
shrill whistles right in her ear, or sudden tweaks of the hair as he
passed her in the street; and as sure as there was company to
dinner, he fixed his round eyes on her, and never took them off till
she was reduced to a piteous state of confusion and distress. She
used to beg him not to plague her; but he said he did it for her
good; she was too shy, and needed toughening like the other girls.
In vain she protested that she did n’t want to be like the other girls
in that respect; he only laughed in her face, stuck his red hair
straight up all over his head, and glared at her, till she fled in
dismay.
Yet Polly rather liked Tom, for she soon saw that he was
neglected, hustled out of the way, and left to get on pretty much by
himself. She often wondered why his mother did n’t pet him as she
did the girls; why his father ordered him about as if he was a born
rebel, and took so little interest in his only son. Fanny considered