An Old-fashioned Girl | Page 7

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," "Jock o'
Hazeldean," "Down among the Heather," and "Birks of Aberfeldie."
The more she sung, the better she did it; and when she wound up with
"A Health to King Charlie," the room quite rung with the stirring music
made by the big piano and the little maid.
"By George, that 's a jolly tune! Sing it again, please," cried Tom's
voice; and there was Tom's red head bobbing up over the high back of
the chair where he had hidden himself.
It gave Polly quite a turn, for she thought no one was hearing her but
the old lady dozing by the fire. "I