people’s eyes and exalt the little music teacher to the rank of a
young lady.
Polly scoffed at this sort of thing sometimes, but to-night she
accepted it without a murmur rather enjoyed it in fact, let her
bracelets shine before the eyes of all men, and felt that it was good
to seem comely in their sight. She forgot one thing, however: that
her own happy spirits gave the crowning charm to a picture which
every one liked to see a blithe young girl enjoying herself with all
her heart. The music and the light, costume and company, excited
Polly and made many things possible which at most times she
would never have thought of saying or doing. She did not mean to
flirt, but somehow “it flirted itself” and she could n’t help it, for,
once started, it was hard to stop, with Tom goading her on, and
Sydney looking at her with that new interest in his eyes. Polly’s
flirting was such a very mild imitation of the fashionable thing that
Trix & Co. would not have recognized it, but it did very well for a
beginner, and Polly understood that night wherein the fascination
of it lay, for she felt as if she had found a new gift all of a sudden,
and was learning how to use it, knowing that it was dangerous, yet
finding its chief charm in that very fact.
Tom did n’t know what to make of her at first, though he thought
the change uncommonly becoming and finally decided that Polly
had taken his advice and was “setting her cap for Syd,” as he
gracefully expressed it. Sydney, being a modest man, thought
nothing of the kind, but simply fancied that little Polly was
growing up to be a very charming woman. He had known her since
her first visit and had always liked the child; this winter he had
been interested in the success of her plans and had done what he
could to help them, but he never thought of failing in love with
Polly till that night. Then he began to feel that he had not fully
appreciated his young friend; that she was such a bright and
lovable girl, it was a pity she should not always be gay and pretty,
and enjoy herself; that she would make a capital wife for
somebody, and perhaps it was about time to think of “settling,” as
his sister often said. These thoughts came and went as he watched
the white figure in front, felt the enchantment of the music, and
found everybody unusually blithe and beautiful. He had heard the
opera many times, but it had never seemed so fine before, perhaps
because he had never happened to have had an ingenuous young
face so near him in which the varying emotions born of the music,
and the romance it portrayed, came and went so eloquently that it
was impossible to help reading them. Polly did not know that this
was why he leaned down so often to speak to her, with an
expression which she did not understand but liked very much
nevertheless.
“Don’t shut your eyes, Polly. They are so full of mischief to-night, I
like to see them,” said Tom, after idly wondering for a minute if
she knew how long and curly her lashes were.
“I don’t wish to look affected, but the music tells the story so much
better than the acting that I don’t care to look on half the time,”
answered Polly, hoping Tom would n’t see the tears she had so
cleverly suppressed.
“Now I like the acting best. The music is all very fine, I know, but
it does seem so absurd for people to go round telling tremendous
secrets at the top of their voices. I can’t get used to it.”
“That ‘s because you ‘ve more common-sense than romance. I don’t
mind the absurdity, and quite long to go and comfort that poor girl
with the broken heart,” said Polly with a sigh as the curtain fell on
a most affecting tableau.
“What’s-his-name is a great jack not to see that she adores him. In
real life we fellows ain’t such bats as all that,” observed Tom, who