friend who lived near Polly. But she did n’t let the contrast between
herself and Fan trouble her; for in a minute she laughed and said,
contentedly, “My mother likes me to dress simply, and I don’t
mind. I should n’t know what to do rigged up as you are. Don’t you
ever forget to lift your sash and fix those puffy things when you sit
down? ”
Before Fanny could answer, a scream from below made both
listen. “It ‘s only Maud; she fusses all day long,” began Fanny; and
the words were hardly out of her mouth, when the door was thrown
open, and a little girl, of six or seven, came roaring in. She stopped
at sight of Polly, stared a minute, then took up her roar just where
she left it, and cast herself into Fanny’s lap, exclaiming wrathfully,
“Tom ‘s laughing at me! Make him stop!”
“What did you do to set him going? Don’t scream so, you ‘ll
frighten Polly!” and Fan gave the cherub a shake, which produced
an explanation.
“I only said we had cold cweam at the party, last night, and he
laughed!”
“Ice-cream, child!” and Fanny followed Tom’s reprehensible
example.
“I don’t care! it was cold; and I warmed mine at the wegister, and
then it was nice; only, Willy Bliss spilt it on my new Gabwielle!”
and Maud wailed again over her accumulated woes.
“Do go to Katy! You ‘re as cross as a little bear to-day!” said
Fanny, pushing her away.
“Katy don’t amoose me; and I must be amoosed, ’cause I ‘m
fwactious; mamma said I was!” sobbed Maud, evidently laboring
under the delusion that fractiousness was some interesting malady.
“Come down and have dinner; that will amuse you;” and Fanny got
up, pluming herself as a bird does before its flight.
Polly hoped the “dreadful boy” would not be present; but he was,
and stared at her all dinner-time, in a most trying manner. Mr.
Shaw, a busy-looking gentleman, said,” How do you do, my dear?
Hope you ‘ll enjoy yourself;” and then appeared to forget her
entirely. Mrs. Shaw, a pale, nervous woman, greeted her little
guest kindly, and took care that she wanted for nothing. Madam
Shaw, a quiet old lady, with an imposing cap, exclaimed on seeing
Polly, “Bless my heart! the image of her mother a sweet woman
how is she, dear?” and kept peering at the new-comer over her
glasses, till, between Madam and Tom, poor Polly lost her
appetite.
Fanny chatted like a magpie, and Maud fidgeted, till Tom
proposed to put her under the big dish-cover, which produced such
an explosion, that the young lady was borne screaming away, by
the much-enduring Katy. It was altogether an uncomfortable
dinner, and Polly was very glad when it was over. They all went
about their own affairs; and after doing the honors of the house,
Fan was called to the dressmaker, leaving Polly to amuse herself in
the great drawing-room.
Polly was glad to be alone for a few minutes; and, having
examined all the pretty things about her, began to walk up and
down over the soft, flowery carpet, humming to herself, as the
daylight faded, and only the ruddy glow of the fire filled the room.
Presently Madam came slowly in, and sat down in her arm-chair,
saying, “That ‘s a fine old tune; sing it to me, my dear. I have n’t
heard it this many a day.” Polly did n’t like to sing before
strangers, for she had had no teaching but such as her busy mother
could give her; but she had been taught the utmost respect for old
people, and having no reason for refusing, she directly went to the
piano, and did as she was bid.
“That ‘s the sort of music it ‘s a pleasure to hear. Sing some more,
dear,” said Madam, in her gentle way, when she had done.
Pleased with this praise, Polly sang away in a fresh little voice,
that went straight to the listener’s heart and nestled there. The
sweet old tunes that one is never tired of were all Polly’s store; and
her favorites were Scotch airs, such as, “Yellow-Haired Laddie,”