“Indeed, sir, I don’t know. Fan does n’t mean any harm. I wish I had
n’t said anything!” stammered Polly, remembering the promise
given to Fanny the day of the concert. She had forgotten all about
it and had become accustomed to see the “big boys,” as she called
Mr. Frank and his friends, with the girls on all occasions. Now, it
suddenly occurred to her that Mr. Shaw did n’t like such
amusements, and had forbidden Fan to indulge in them. “Oh, dear!
how mad she will be. Well, I can’t help it. Girls should n’t have
secrets from their fathers, then there would n’t be any fuss,”
thought Polly, as she watched Mr. Shaw twist up the pink note and
poke it back among the flowers which he took from her, saying,
shortly, “Send Fanny to me in the library.”
“Now you ‘ve done it, you stupid thing!” cried Fanny, both angry
and dismayed, when Polly delivered the message.
“Why, what else could I do?” asked Polly, much disturbed.
“Let him think the bouquet was for you; then there’d have been no
trouble.”
“But that would have been doing a lie, which is most as bad as
telling one.”
“Don’t be a goose. You ‘ve got me into a scrape, and you ought to
help me out.”
“I will if I can; but I won’t tell lies for anybody!” cried Polly,
getting excited.
“Nobody wants you to just hold, your tongue, and let me manage.”
“Then I ‘d better not go down,” began Polly, when a stern voice
from below called, like Bluebeard, “Are you coming down?”
“Yes, sir,” answered a meek voice; and Fanny clutched Polly,
whispering, “You must come; I ‘m frightened out of my wits when
he speaks like that. Stand by me, Polly; there ‘s a dear.”
“I will,” whispered “sister Ann”; and down they went with
fluttering hearts.
Mr. Shaw stood on the rug, looking rather grim; the bouquet lay on
the table, and beside it a note, directed to “Frank Moore, Esq.,” in a
very decided hand, with a fierce-looking flourish after the “Esq.”
Pointing to this impressive epistle, Mr. Shaw said, knitting his
black eyebrows as he looked at Fanny, “I ‘m going to put a stop to
this nonsense at once; and if I see any more of it, I ‘ll send you to
school in a Canadian convent.”
This awful threat quite took Polly’s breath away; but Fanny had
heard it before, and having a temper of her own, said, pertly, “I ‘m
sure I have n’t done anything so very dreadful. I can’t help it if the
boys send me philopena presents, as they do to the other girls.”
“There was nothing about philopenas in the note. But that ‘s not the
question. I forbid you to have anything to do with this Moore. He ‘s
not a boy, but a fast fellow, and I won’t have him about. You knew
this, and yet disobeyed me.”
“I hardly ever see him,” began Fanny.
“Is that true?” asked Mr. Shaw, turning suddenly to Polly.
“Oh, please, sir, don’t ask me. I promised I would n’t that is Fanny
will tell you,” cried Polly, quite red with distress at the
predicament she was in.
“No matter about your promise; tell me all you know of this absurd
affair. It will do Fanny more good than harm.” And Mr. Shaw sat
down looking more amiable, for Polly’s dismay touched him.
“May I?” she whispered to Fanny.
“I don’t care,” answered Fan, looking both angry and ashamed, as
she stood sullenly tying knots in her handkerchief.
So Polly told, with much reluctance and much questioning, all she
knew of the walks, the lunches, the meetings, and the notes. It was
n’t much, and evidently less serious than Mr. Shaw expected; for,
as he listened, his eyebrows smoothed themselves out, and more
than once his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, for after all, it
was rather comical to see how the young people aped their elders,
playing the new-fashioned game, quite unconscious of its real
beauty, power, and sacredness.
“Oh, please, sir, don’t blame Fan much, for she truly is n’t half as