“Yes; I truly will; I never tell tales.” And Polly kept her word, feeling sure Fan did n'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 could n't go last week, you know,” answered Fan; adding, as they left the house again, “If any one 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 did n't know how to mend them. Being fond of music, she ignorantly supposed that every one 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 did n't say much; he picked up my muff when it tumbled down, and took care of me in the crowd; the others did n't mind anything about me.”
“They thought you were a little girl, I suppose.”