Polly's eye went from one little figure to the other, and she thought that Fanny looked the oddest of the two; for Polly lived in a quiet country town, and knew very little of city fashions. She was rather impressed by the elegance about her, never having seen Fanny's home before, as they got acquainted while Fanny paid a visit to a friend who lived near Polly. But she 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.