An Old-fashioned Girl | Page 9

of light and
beauty; but, presently, she began to listen to the songs and conversation,
and then the illusion vanished; for the lovely phantoms sang negro
melodies, talked slang, and were a disgrace to the good old-fashioned
elves whom she knew and loved so well.
Our little girl was too innocent to understand half the jokes, and often
wondered what people were laughing at; but, as the first enchantment
subsided, Polly began to feel uncomfortable, to be sure her mother
would n't like to have her there, and to wish she had n't come.
Somehow, things seemed to get worse and worse, as the play went on;

for our small spectator was being rapidly enlightened by the gossip
going on all about her, as well as by her own quick eyes and girlish
instincts. When four-and-twenty girls, dressed as jockeys, came
prancing on to the stage, cracking their whips, stamping the heels of
their topboots, and winking at the audience, Polly did not think it at all
funny, but looked disgusted, and was glad when they were gone; but
when another set appeared in a costume consisting of gauze wings, and
a bit of gold fringe round the waist, poor unfashionable Polly did n't
know what to do; for she felt both frightened and indignant, and sat
with her eyes on her play-bill, and her cheeks getting hotter and hotter
every minute.
"What are you blushing so for?" asked Fanny, as the painted sylphs
vanished.
"I 'm so ashamed of those girls," whispered Polly, taking a long breath
of relief.
"You little goose, it 's just the way it was done in Paris, and the dancing
is splendid. It seems queer at first; but you 'll get used to it, as I did."
"I 'll never come again," said Polly, decidedly; for her innocent nature
rebelled against the spectacle, which, as yet, gave her more pain than
pleasure. She did not know how easy it was to "get used to it," as Fanny
did; and it was well for her that the temptation was not often offered.
She could not explain the feeling; but she was glad when the play was
done, and they were safe at home, where kind grandma was waiting to
see them comfortably into bed.
"Did you have a good time, dear?" she asked, looking at Polly's
feverish cheeks and excited eyes.
"I don't wish to be rude, but I did n't," answered Polly. "Some of it was
splendid; but a good deal of it made me want to go under the seat.
People seemed to like it, but I don't think it was proper."
As Polly freed her mind, and emphasized her opinion with a decided
rap of the boot she had just taken off, Fanny laughed, and said, while
she pirouetted about the room, like Mademoiselle Therese, "Polly was
shocked, grandma. Her eyes were as big as saucers. her face as red as
my sash, and once I thought she was going to cry. Some of it was rather
queer; but, of course, it was proper, or all our set would n't go. I heard
Mrs. Smythe Perkins say, 'It was charming; so like dear Paris;' and she
has lived abroad; so, of course, she knows what is what."

"I don't care if she has. I know it was n't proper for little girls to see, or
I should n't have been so ashamed!" cried sturdy Polly, perplexed, but
not convinced, even by Mrs. Smythe Perkins.
"I think you are right, my dear; but you have lived in the country, and
have n't yet learned that modesty has gone out of fashion." And with a
good-night kiss, grandma left Polly to dream dreadfully of dancing in
jockey costume, on a great stage; while Tom played a big drum in the
orchestra; and the audience all wore the faces of her father and mother,
looking sorrowfully at her, with eyes like saucers, and faces as red as
Fanny's sash.

CHAPTER II
NEW FASHIONS
"I 'M going to school this morning; so come up and get ready," said
Fanny, a day or two after, as she left the late breakfast-table.
"You look very nice; what have you got to do?" asked Polly, following
her into the hall.
"Prink half an hour, and put on her wad," answered the irreverent Tom,
whose preparations for school consisted in flinging his cap on to his
head, and strapping up several big books, that looked as if they were
sometimes used as weapons of defence.
"What is a wad?" asked Polly, while Fanny marched up without
deigning any reply.
"Somebody's hair on the top of her head in the place where it ought not
to be;" and Tom went whistling away with an air of sublime
indifference as to the state