“Not hard to guess. The smart one for Fan, the sweet one for Polly, and the gay one for Pug. Now, then, catch hold, girls.” And Tom proceeded to deliver the nosegays, with as much grace as could be expected from a youth in a new suit of clothes and very tight boots.
“That finishes you off just right, and is a very pretty attention of papa's. Now run down, for the bell has rung; and remember, not to dance too often, Fan; be as quiet as you can, Tom; and Maud, don't eat too much supper. Grandma will attend to things, for my poor nerves won't allow me to come down.”
With that, Mrs. Shaw dismissed them, and the four descended to receive the first batch of visitors, several little girls who had been asked for the express purpose of keeping Maud out of her sister's way. Tom had likewise been propitiated, by being allowed to bring his three bosom friends, who went by the school-boy names of Rumple, Sherry, and Spider.
“They will do to make up sets, as gentlemen are scarce; and the party is for Polly, so I must have some young folks on her account,” said Fanny, when sending out her invitations.
Of course, the boys came early, and stood about in corners, looking as if they had more arms and legs than they knew what to do with. Tom did his best to be a good host; but ceremony oppressed his spirits, and he was forced to struggle manfully with the wild desire to propose a game of leap-frog, for the long drawing-rooms, cleared for dancing, tempted him sorely.
Polly sat where she was told, and suffered bashful agonies as Fan introduced very fine young ladies and very stiff young gentlemen, who all said about the same civil things, and then appeared to forget all about her. When the first dance was called, Fanny cornered Tom, who had been dodging her, for he knew what she wanted, and said, in an earnest whisper: “Now, Tom, you must dance this with Polly. You are the young gentleman of the house, and it's only proper that you should ask your company first.”
“Polly don't care for manners. I hate dancing; don't know how. Let go my jacket, and don't bother, or I'll cut away altogether,” growled Tom, daunted by the awful prospect of opening the ball with Polly.
“I'll never forgive you if you do. Come, be clever, and help me, there's a dear. You know we both were dreadfully rude to Polly, and agreed that we 'd be as kind and civil to her as ever we could. I shall keep my word, and see that she is n't slighted at my party, for I want her to love me, and go home feeling all right.”
This artful speech made an impression on the rebellious Thomas, who glanced at Polly's happy face, remembered his promise, and, with a groan, resolved to do his duty.
“Well, I'll take her; but I shall come to grief, for I don't know anything about your old dances.”