An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

sitting on the side of the bed in Polly’s room, and chattering hard,

while she examined everything her friend had on.

“Not a bit. I had a nice time coming, and no trouble, except the

tipsy coachman; but Tom got out and kept him in order, so I was

n’t much frightened,” answered innocent Polly, taking off her

rough-and-ready coat, and the plain hat without a bit of a feather.

“Fiddlestick! he was n’t tipsy; and Tom only did it to get out of the

way. He can’t bear girls,” said Fanny, with a superior air.

“Can’t he? Why, I thought he was very pleasant and kind!” and

Polly opened her eyes with a surprised expression.

“He ‘s an awful boy, my dear; and if you have anything to do with

him, he ‘ll torment you to death. Boys are all horrid; but he ‘s the

horridest one I ever saw.”

Fanny went to a fashionable school, where the young ladies were

so busy with their French, German, and Italian, that there was no

time for good English. Feeling her confidence much shaken in the

youth, Polly privately resolved to let him alone, and changed the

conversation, by saying, as she looked admiringly about the large,

handsome room, “How splendid it is! I never slept in a bed with

curtains before, or had such a fine toilet-table as this.”

“I ‘m glad you like it; but don’t, for mercy sake, say such things

before the other girls!” replied Fanny, wishing Polly would wear

ear-rings, as every one else did.

“Why not?” asked the country mouse of the city mouse, wondering

what harm there was in liking other people’s pretty things, and

saying so. “Oh, they laugh at everything the least bit odd, and that

is n’t pleasant.” Fanny did n’t say “countrified,” but she meant it,

and Polly felt uncomfortable. So she shook out her little black silk

apron with a thoughtful face, and resolved not to allude to her own

home, if she could help it.

“I ‘m so poorly, mamma says I need n’t go to school regularly,

while you are here, only two or three times a week, just to keep up

my music and French. You can go too, if you like; papa said so.

Do, it ‘s such fun!” cried Fanny, quite surprising her friend by this

unexpected fondness for school.

“I should be afraid, if all the girls dress as finely as you do, and

know as much,” said Polly, beginning to feel shy at the thought.

“La, child! you need n’t mind that. I ‘ll take care of you, and fix you

up, so you won’t look odd.”

“Am I odd?” asked Polly, struck by the word and hoping it did n’t

mean anything very bad.

“You are a dear, and ever so much prettier than you were last

summer, only you ‘ve been brought up differently from us; so your

ways ain’t like ours, you see,” began Fanny, finding it rather hard

to explain.

“How different?” asked Polly again, for she liked to understand

things.

“Well, you dress like a little girl, for one thing.”

“I am a little girl; so why should n’t I?” and Polly looked at her

simple blue merino frock, stout boots, and short hair, with a

puzzled air.

“You are fourteen; and we consider ourselves young ladies at that

age,” continued Fanny, surveying, with complacency, the pile of

hair on the top of her head, with a fringe of fuzz round her

forehead, and a wavy lock streaming down her back; likewise, her

scarlet-and-black suit, with its big sash, little pannier, bright

buttons, points, rosettes, and, heaven knows what. There was a

locket on her neck, earrings tinkling in her ears, watch and chain at

her belt, and several rings on a pair of hands that would have been

improved by soap and water.

Polly’s eye went from one little figure to the other, and she thought

that Fanny looked the oddest of the two; for Polly lived in a quiet

country town, and knew very little of city fashions. She was rather

impressed by the elegance about her, never having seen Fanny’s

home before, as they got acquainted while Fanny paid a visit to a

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