An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

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,”

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