“Well, I don't care, I'll go somewhere, for I will have my fun,” she said with great determination, for disappointment only seemed to whet her appetite. But the playbills showed her nothing inviting and she was forced to go away to her work with the money burning her pocket and all manner of wild schemes floating in her head. At noon, instead of going home to dinner, she went and took an ice, trying to feet very gay and festive all by herself. It was rather a failure, however, and after a tour of the picture shops she went to give Maud a lesson, feeling that it was very hard to quench her longings, and subside into a prim little music teacher.
Fortunately she did not have to do violence to her feelings very long, for the first thing Fanny said to her was: “Can you go?”
“Where?”
“Did n't you get my note?”
“I did n't go home to dinner.”
“Tom wants us to go to the opera to-night and” Fan got no further, for Polly uttered a cry of rapture and clasped her hands.
“Go? Of course I will. I've been dying to go all day, tried to get tickets this morning and could n't, been fuming about it ever since, and now oh, how splendid!” And Polly could not restrain an ecstatic skip, for this burst of joy rather upset her.
“Well, you come to tea, and we'll dress together, and go all comfortable with Tom, who is in a heavenly frame of mind to-day.”
“I must run home and get my things,” said Polly, resolving on the spot to buy the nicest pair of gloves the city afforded.
“You shall have my white cloak and any other little rigging you want. Tommy likes to have his ladies a credit to him, you know,” said Fanny, departing to take a beauty sleep.