An Old-Fashioned Girl. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

gossip; but Belle, Trix, and Fanny went to lunch at a fashionable ice cream saloon nearby, and Polly meekly followed, not daring to hint at the gingerbread grandma had put in her pocket for luncheon. So the honest, brown cookies crumbled away in obscurity, while Polly tried to satisfy her hearty appetite on one ice and three macaroons.

      The girls seemed in great spirits, particularly after they were joined by a short gentleman with such a young face that Polly would have called him a boy, if he had not worn a tall beaver. Escorted by this impressive youth, Fanny left her unfortunate friends to return to school, and went to walk, as she called a slow promenade down the most crowded streets. Polly discreetly fell behind, and amused herself looking into shopwindows, till Fanny, mindful of her manners, even at such an interesting time, took her into a picture gallery, and bade her enjoy the works of art while they rested. Obedient Polly went through the room several times, apparently examining the pictures with the interest of a connoisseur, and trying not to hear the mild prattle of the pair on the round seat. But she couldn’t help wondering what Fan found so absorbing in an account of a recent German, and why she need promise so solemnly not to forget the concert that afternoon.

      When Fanny rose at last, Polly’s tired face reproached her; and taking a hasty leave of the small gentleman, she turned homeward, saying, confidentially, as she put one hand in Polly’s muff, “Now, my dear, you mustn’t say a word about Frank Moore, or papa will take my head off. I don’t care a bit for him, and he likes Trix; only they have quarrelled, and he wants to make her mad by flirting a little with me. I scolded him well, and he promised to make up with her. We all go to the afternoon concerts, and have a gay time, and Belle and Trix are to be there today; so just keep quiet, and everything will be all right.”

      “I’m afraid it won’t,” began Polly, who, not being used to secrets, found it very hard to keep even a small one.

      “Don’t worry, child. It’s none of our business; so we can go and enjoy the music, and if other people flirt, it won’t be our fault,” said Fanny, impatiently.

      “Of course not; but, then, if your father don’t like you to do so, ought you to go?”

      “I tell mamma, and she don’t care. Papa is fussy, and grandma makes a stir about every blessed thing I do. You will hold your tongue, won’t you?”

      “Yes; I truly will; I never tell tales.” And Polly kept her word, feeling sure Fan didn’t mean to deceive her father, since she told her mother everything.

      “Who are you going with?” asked Mrs. Shaw, when Fanny mentioned that it was concert day, just before three o’clock.

      “Only Polly; she likes music, and it was so stormy I couldn’t go last week, you know,” answered Fan; adding, as they left the house again, “If anyone meets us on the way, I can’t help it, can I?”

      “You can tell them not to, can’t you?”

      “That’s rude. Dear me! Here’s Belle’s brother Gus – he always goes. Is my hair all right, and my hat?”

      Before Polly could answer, Mr. Gus joined them as a matter of course, and Polly soon found herself trotting on behind, feeling that things were not “all right,” though she didn’t know how to mend them. Being fond of music, she ignorantly supposed that everyone else went for that alone, and was much disturbed by the whispering that went on among the young people round her. Belle and Trix were there in full dress; and, in the pauses between different pieces, Messrs. Frank and Gus, with several other “splendid fellows,” regaled the young ladies with college gossip, and bits of news full of interest, to judge from the close attention paid to their eloquent remarks. Polly regarded these noble beings with awe, and they recognized her existence with the condescension of their sex; but they evidently considered her only “a quiet little thing,” and finding her not up to society talk, blandly ignored the pretty child, and devoted themselves to the young ladies. Fortunately for Polly, she forgot all about them in her enjoyment of the fine music, which she felt rather than understood, and sat listening with such a happy face, that several true music-lovers watched her smilingly, for her heart gave a blithe welcome to the melody which put the little instrument in tune. It was dusk when they went out, and Polly was much relieved to find the carriage waiting for them, because playing third fiddle was not to her taste, and she had had enough of it for one day.

      “I’m glad those men are gone; they did worry me so talking, when I wanted to hear,” said Polly, as they rolled away.

      “Which did you like best?” asked Fanny, with a languid air of superiority.

      “The plain one, who didn’t say much; he picked up my muff when it tumbled down, and took care of me in the crowd; the others didn’t mind anything about me.”

      “They thought you were a little girl, I suppose.”

      “My mother says a real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a woman; so I like Mr. Sydney best, because he was kind to me.”

      “What a sharp child you are, Polly. I shouldn’t have thought you’d mind things like that,” said Fanny, beginning to understand that there may be a good deal of womanliness even in a little girl.

      “I’m used to good manners, though I do live in the country,” replied Polly, rather warmly, for she didn’t like to be patronized even by her friends.

      “Grandma says your mother is a perfect lady, and you are just like her; so don’t get in a passion with those poor fellows, and I’ll see that they behave better next time. Tom has no manners at all, and you don’t complain of him,” added Fan, with a laugh.

      “I don’t care if he hasn’t; he’s a boy, and acts like one, and I can get on with him a great deal better than I can with those men.”

      Fanny was just going to take Polly to task for saying “those men” in such a disrespectful tone, when both were startled by a smothered “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” from under the opposite seat.

      “It’s Tom!” cried Fanny; and with the words out tumbled that incorrigible boy, red in the face, and breathless with suppressed laughter. Seating himself, he surveyed the girls as if well satisfied with the success of his prank, and waiting to be congratulated upon it. “Did you hear what we were saying?” demanded Fanny, uneasily.

      “Oh, didn’t I, every word?” And Tom exulted over them visibly.

      “Did you ever see such a provoking toad, Polly? Now, I suppose you’ll go and tell papa a great story.”

      “P’r’aps I shall, and p’r’aps I shan’t. How Polly did hop when I crowed! I heard her squeal, and saw her cuddle up her feet.”

      “And you heard us praise your manners, didn’t you?” asked Polly, slyly.

      “Yes, and you liked ‘em; so I won’t tell on you,” said Tom, with a reassuring nod.

      “There’s nothing to tell.”

      “Ain’t there, though? What do you suppose the governor will say to you girls going on so with those dandies? I saw you.”

      “What has the Governor of Massachusetts to do with us?” asked Polly, trying to look as if she meant what she said.

      “Pooh! you know who I mean; so you needn’t try to catch me up, as grandma does.”

      “Tom, I’ll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It wasn’t my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I couldn’t help their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa needn’t be angry; for I behave ever so much better than some of the girls. Don’t I, Polly?”

      “Bargain?” observed Tom, with an eye to business.

      “If you won’t go and make a fuss, telling what you’d no right to hear – it was so mean to hide and listen; I should think you’d be ashamed of it! – I’ll help you tease for your velocipede, and won’t say a word against it, when mamma and granny beg papa not to let you have it.”

      “Will you?” and Tom paused to consider the offer in all its bearings.

      “Yes, and Polly will help; won’t you?”

      “I’d