An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

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