An Old-Fashioned Girl

  CHAPTER XII. FORBIDDEN FRUIT

  "I'M perfectly aching for some fun," said Polly to herself as sheopened her window one morning and the sunshine and frosty air set herblood dancing and her eyes sparkling with youth, health, and overflowingspirits. "I really must break out somewhere and have a good time. It'squite impossible to keep steady any longer. Now what will I do?" Pollysprinkled crumbs to the doves, who came daily to be fed, and while shewatched the gleaming necks and rosy feet, she racked her brain to devisesome unusually delightful way of enjoying herself, for she really hadbottled up her spirits so long, they were in a state of uncontrollableeffervescence.

  "I'll go to the opera," she suddenly announced to the doves. "It'sexpensive, I know, but it's remarkably good, and music is such a treatto me. Yes, I'll get two tickets as cheap as I can, send a note toWill, poor lad, he needs fun as much as I do, and we'll go and have anice time in some corner, as Charles Lamb and his sister used to."

  With that Polly slammed down the window, to the dismay of her gentlelittle pensioners, and began to fly about with great energy, singing andtalking to herself as if it was impossible to keep quiet. She startedearly to her first lesson that she might have time to buy the tickets,hoping, as she put a five-dollar bill into her purse, that they wouldn't be very high, for she felt that she was not in a mood to resisttemptation. But she was spared any struggle, for when she reached theplace, the ticket office was blocked up by eager purchasers and thedisappointed faces that turned away told Polly there was no hope forher.

  "Well, I don't care, I'll go somewhere, for I will have my fun," shesaid with great determination, for disappointment only seemed to whether appetite. But the playbills showed her nothing inviting and she wasforced to go away to her work with the money burning her pocket and allmanner of wild schemes floating in her head. At noon, instead of goinghome to dinner, she went and took an ice, trying to feet very gay andfestive all by herself. It was rather a failure, however, and after atour of the picture shops she went to give Maud a lesson, feeling thatit was very hard to quench her longings, and subside into a prim littlemusic 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, forPolly uttered a cry of rapture and clasped her hands.

  "Go? Of course I will. I've been dying to go all day, tried to gettickets this morning and could n't, been fuming about it ever since, andnow 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 allcomfortable 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 spotto 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.

  Polly instantly decided that she would n't borrow Becky's best bonnet,as she at first intended, but get a new one, for in her present excitedstate, no extravagance seemed too prodigal in honor of this grandoccasion. I am afraid that Maud's lesson was not as thorough as itshould have been, for Polly's head was such a chaos of bonnets, gloves,opera-cloaks and fans, that Maud blundered through, murdering time andtune at her own sweet will. The instant it was over Polly rushed awayand bought not only the kids but a bonnet frame, a bit of illusion, anda pink crape rose, which had tempted her for weeks in a certainshop window, then home and to work with all the skill and speed of adistracted milliner.

  "I'm rushing madly into expense, I'm afraid, but the fit is on meand I'll eat bread and water for a week to make up for it. I must looknice, for Tom seldom takes me and ought to be gratified when he does.I want to do like other girls, just for once, and enjoy myself withoutthinking about right and wrong. Now a bit of pink ribbon to tie it with,and I shall be done in time to do up my best collar," she said, turningher boxes topsy-turvy for the necessary ribbon in that delightful flurrywhich young ladies feel on such occasions.

  It is my private opinion that the little shifts and struggles we poorgirls have to undergo beforehand give a peculiar relish to our fun whenwe get it. This fact will account for the rapturous mood in which Pollyfound herself when, after making her bonnet, washing and ironing herbest set, blacking her boots and mending her fan, she at last, likeConsuelo, "put on a little dress of black silk" and, with the smalleradornments pinned up in a paper, started for the Shaws', finding itdifficult to walk decorously when her heart was dancing in her bosom.

  Maud happened to be playing a redowa up in the parlor, and Polly cameprancing into the room so evidently spoiling for a dance that Tom, whowas there, found it impossible to resist catching her about the waist,and putting her through the most intricate evolutions till Maud'sfingers gave out.

  "That was splendid! Oh, Tom, thank you so much for asking me to-night.I feel just like having a regular good time," cried Polly, when shestopped, with her hat hanging round her neck and her hair looking as ifshe had been out in a high wind.

  "Glad of it. I felt so myself and thought we'd have a jolly littleparty all in the family," said Tom, looking much gratified at herdelight.

  "Is Trix sick?" asked Polly.

  "Gone to New York for a week."

  "Ah, when the cat's away the mice will play."

  "Exactly. Come and have another turn."

  Before they could start, however, the awful spectacle of a little dogtrotting out of the room with a paper parcel in his mouth, made Pollyclasp her hands with the despairing cry: "My bonnet! Oh, my bonnet!"

  "Where? what? which?" And Tom looked about him, bewildered.

  "Snip's got it. Save it! save it!"

  "I will!" And Tom gave chase with more vigor than discretion.

  Snip, evidently regarding it as a game got up for his special benefit,enjoyed the race immensely and scampered all over the house, shaking theprecious parcel like a rat while his master ran and whistled, commandedand coaxed, in vain. Polly followed, consumed with anxiety, and Maudlaughed till Mrs. Shaw sent down to know who was in hysterics. Apiteous yelp from the lower regions at last announced that the thief wascaptured, and Tom appeared bearing Snip by the nape of the neck in onehand and Polly's cherished bonnet in the other.

  "The little scamp was just going to worry it when I grabbed him. I'mafraid he has eaten one of your gloves. I can't find it, and this oneis pretty well chewed up," said Tom, bereaving Snip of the torn kid, towhich he still pertinaciously clung.

  "Serves me right," said Polly with a groan. "I'd no business to geta new pair, but I wanted to be extra gorgeous to-night, and this is mypunishment for such mad extravagance."

  "Was there anything else?" asked Tom.

  "Only my best cuffs and collar. You'll probably find them in thecoal-bin," said Polly, with the calmness of despair.

  "I saw some little white things on the dining-room floor as I racedthrough. Go get them, Maud, and we'll repair damages," said Tom,shutting the culprit into the boot closet, where he placidly rolledhimself up and went to sleep.

  "They ain't hurt a bit," proclaimed Maud, restoring the lost treasures.

  "Neither is my bonnet, for which I'm deeply grateful," said Polly, whohad been examining it with a solicitude which made Tom's eyes twinkle.

  "So am I, for it strikes me that is an uncommonly'nobby' littleaffair," he said approvingly. Tom had a weakness for pale pink roses,and perhaps Polly knew it.

  "I'm afraid it's too gay," said Polly, with a dubious look.

  "Not a bit. Sort of bridal, you know. Must be becoming. Put it on andlet's see."

  "I would n't for the world, with my hair all tumbling down. Don't lookat me till I'm respectable, and don't tell any one how I've beenacting. I think I mu
st be a little crazy to-night," said Polly,gathering up her rescued finery and preparing to go and find Fan.

  "Lunacy is mighty becoming, Polly. Try it again," answered Tom,watching her as she went laughing away, looking all the prettier forher dishevelment. "Dress that girl up, and she'd be a raving, tearingbeauty," added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look her into theparlor under his arm.

  Polly heard it and instantly resolved to be as "raving and as tearing"as her means would allow, "just for one night," she said as she peepedover the banisters, glad to see that the dance and the race had takenthe "band-boxy" air out of Tom's elegant array.

  I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of myreaders as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by expressions likethe above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a little story aboutYoung America, for Young America, I feel bound to depict my honoredpatrons as faithfully as my limited powers permit. Otherwise, I mustexpect the crushing criticism, "Well, I dare say it's all very prim andproper, but it is n't a bit like us," and never hope to arrive atthe distinction of finding the covers of "An Old-Fashioned Girl" thedirtiest in the library.

  The friends had a social "cup o' tea" upstairs, which Polly consideredthe height of luxury, and then each took a mirror and proceeded to prinkto her heart's content. The earnestness with which Polly made her toiletthat night was delightful to behold. Feeling in a daring mood, shereleased her pretty hair from the braids in which she usually woreit and permitted the curls to display themselves in all their brownabundance, especially several dangerous little ones about the templesand forehead. The putting on of the rescued collar and cuffs was a taskwhich absorbed her whole mind. So was the settling of a minute bit ofcourt-plaster just to the left of the dimple in her chin, an unusualpiece of coquetry in which Polly would not have indulged, if an almostinvisible scratch had not given her an excuse for doing it. The white,down-trimmed cloak, with certain imposing ornaments on the hood,was assumed with becoming gravity and draped with much advancing andretreating before the glass, as its wearer practised the true Bostongait, elbows back, shoulders forward, a bend and a slide, occasionallyvaried by a slight skip. But when that bonnet went on, Polly actuallyheld her breath till it was safely landed and the pink rose bloomedabove the smooth waves of hair with what Fanny called "a ravishingeffect." At this successful stage of affairs Polly found it impossibleto resist the loan of a pair of gold bands for the wrists and Fanny'swhite fan with the little mirror in the middle.

  "I can put them in my pocket if I feel too much dressed," said Pollyas she snapped on the bracelets, but after a wave or two of the fan shefelt that it would be impossible to take them off till the evening wasover, so enticing was their glitter.

  Fanny also lent her a pair of three-button gloves, which completed hercontent, and when Tom greeted her with an approving, "Here's a sightfor gods and men! Why, Polly, you're gorgeous!" she felt that her "fun"had decidedly begun.

  "Would n't Polly make a lovely bride?" said Maud, who was revolvingabout the two girls, trying to decide whether she would have a blue or awhite cloak when she grew up and went to operas.

  "Faith, and she would! Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs. Sydney,"added Tom, advancing with his wedding-reception bow and a wicked look atFanny.

  "Go away! How dare you?" cried Polly, growing much redder than her rose.

  "If we are going to the opera to-night, perhaps we'd better start,as the carriage has been waiting some time," observed Fan coolly, andsailed out of the room in an unusually lofty manner.

  "Don't you like it, Polly?" whispered Tom, as they went down stairstogether.

  "Very much."

  "The deuce you do!"

  "I'm so fond of music, how can I help it?

  "I'm talking about Syd."

  "Well, I'm not."

  "You'd better try for him."

  "I'll think of it."

  "Oh, Polly, Polly, what are you coming to?"

  "A tumble into the street, apparently," answered Polly as she slipped alittle on the step, and Tom stopped in the middle of his laugh to pilother safely into the carriage, where Fanny was already seated.

  "Here's richness!" said Polly to herself as she rolled away, feelingas Cinderella probably did when the pumpkin-coach bore her to the firstball, only Polly had two princes to think about, and poor Cinderella,on that occasion, had not even one. Fanny did n't seem inclined to talkmuch, and Tom would go on in such a ridiculous manner that Polly toldhim she would n't listen and began to hum bits of the opera. Butshe heard every word, nevertheless, and resolved to pay him for hisimpertinence as soon as possible by showing him what he had lost.

  Their seats were in the balcony, and hardly were they settled, when, byone of those remarkable coincidences which are continually occurringin our youth, Mr. Sydney and Fanny's old friend Frank Moore took theirplaces just behind them.

  "Oh, you villain! You did it on purpose," whispered Polly as she turnedfrom greeting their neighbors and saw a droll look on Tom's face.

  "I give you my word I did n't. It's the law of attraction, don't yousee?"

  "If Fan likes it, I don't care."

  "She looks resigned, I think."

  She certainly did, for she was talking and laughing in the gayest mannerwith Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly as if he did n'tquite understand how the gray grub got so suddenly transformed intoa white butterfly. It is a well-known fact that dress plays a veryimportant part in the lives of most women and even the most sensiblecannot help owning sometimes how much happiness they owe to a becominggown, gracefully arranged hair, or a bonnet which brings out the bestpoints in their faces and puts them in a good humor. A great man wasonce heard to say that what first attracted him to his well-beloved wifewas seeing her in a white muslin dress with a blue shawl on the chairbehind her. The dress caught his eye, and, stopping to admire that, thewearer's intelligent conversation interested his mind, and in time, thewoman's sweetness won his heart. It is not the finest dress which doesthe most execution, I fancy, but that which best interprets individualtaste and character. Wise people understand this, and everybody is moreinfluenced by it than they know, perhaps. Polly was not very wise, butshe felt that every one about her found something more attractive thanusual in her and modestly attributed Tom's devotion, Sydney's interest,and Frank's undisguised admiration, to the new bonnet or, more likely,to that delightful combination of cashmere, silk, and swan's-down,which, like Charity's mantle, seemed to cover a multitude of sins inother people's eyes and exalt the little music teacher to the rank of ayoung lady.

  Polly scoffed at this sort of thing sometimes, but to-night she acceptedit without a murmur rather enjoyed it in fact, let her bracelets shinebefore the eyes of all men, and felt that it was good to seem comely intheir sight. She forgot one thing, however: that her own happy spiritsgave the crowning charm to a picture which every one liked to see ablithe young girl enjoying herself with all her heart. The music and thelight, costume and company, excited Polly and made many things possiblewhich at most times she would never have thought of saying or doing. Shedid not mean to flirt, but somehow "it flirted itself" and she could n'thelp it, for, once started, it was hard to stop, with Tom goadingher on, and Sydney looking at her with that new interest in his eyes.Polly's flirting was such a very mild imitation of the fashionable thingthat Trix & Co. would not have recognized it, but it did very well for abeginner, and Polly understood that night wherein the fascination of itlay, for she felt as if she had found a new gift all of a sudden, andwas learning how to use it, knowing that it was dangerous, yet findingits chief charm in that very fact.

  Tom did n't know what to make of her at first, though he thought thechange uncommonly becoming and finally decided that Polly had taken hisadvice and was "setting her cap for Syd," as he gracefully expressedit. Sydney, being a modest man, thought nothing of the kind, but simplyfancied that little Polly was growing up to be a very charming woman. Hehad known her since her first visit and had always liked the chil
d; thiswinter he had been interested in the success of her plans and had donewhat he could to help them, but he never thought of failing in lovewith Polly till that night. Then he began to feel that he had not fullyappreciated his young friend; that she was such a bright and lovablegirl, it was a pity she should not always be gay and pretty, and enjoyherself; that she would make a capital wife for somebody, and perhaps itwas about time to think of "settling," as his sister often said. Thesethoughts came and went as he watched the white figure in front, feltthe enchantment of the music, and found everybody unusually blithe andbeautiful. He had heard the opera many times, but it had never seemedso fine before, perhaps because he had never happened to have had aningenuous young face so near him in which the varying emotions born ofthe music, and the romance it portrayed, came and went so eloquentlythat it was impossible to help reading them. Polly did not know thatthis was why he leaned down so often to speak to her, with an expressionwhich she did not understand but liked very much nevertheless.

  "Don't shut your eyes, Polly. They are so full of mischief to-night, Ilike to see them," said Tom, after idly wondering for a minute if sheknew how long and curly her lashes were.

  "I don't wish to look affected, but the music tells the story so muchbetter than the acting that I don't care to look on half the time,"answered Polly, hoping Tom would n't see the tears she had so cleverlysuppressed.

  "Now I like the acting best. The music is all very fine, I know, but itdoes seem so absurd for people to go round telling tremendous secrets atthe top of their voices. I can't get used to it."

  "That's because you've more common-sense than romance. I don't mindthe absurdity, and quite long to go and comfort that poor girl withthe broken heart," said Polly with a sigh as the curtain fell on a mostaffecting tableau.

  "What's-his-name is a great jack not to see that she adores him. Inreal life we fellows ain't such bats as all that," observed Tom, who haddecided opinions on many subjects that he knew very little about, andexpressed them with great candor.

  A curious smile passed over Polly's face and she put up her glass tohide her eyes, as she said: "I think you are bats sometimes, but womenare taught to wear masks, and that accounts for it, I suppose."

  "I don't agree. There's precious little masking nowadays; wish therewas a little more sometimes," added Tom, thinking of several bloomingdamsels whose beseeching eyes had begged him not to leave them to witheron the parent stem.

  "I hope not, but I guess there's a good deal more than any one wouldsuspect."

  "What can you know about broken hearts and blighted beings?" askedSydney, smiling at the girl's pensive tone.

  Polly glanced up at him and her face dimpled and shone again, as sheanswered, laughing: "Not much; my time is to come."

  "I can't imagine you walking about the world with your back hair down,bewailing a hard-hearted lover," said Tom.

  "Neither can I. That would n't be my way."

  "No; Miss Polly would let concealment prey on her damask cheeks andstill smile on in the novel fashion, or turn sister of charity and nursethe heartless lover through small-pox, or some other contagious disease,and die seraphically, leaving him to the agonies of remorse and tardylove."

  Polly gave Sydney an indignant look as he said that in a slow satiricalway that nettled her very much, for she hated to be thought sentimental.

  "That's not my way either," she said decidedly. "I'd try to outliveit, and if I could n't, I'd try to be the better for it. Disappointmentneed n't make a woman a fool."

  "Nor an old maid, if she's pretty and good. Remember that, and don'tvisit the sins of one blockhead on all the rest of mankind," said Tom,laughing at her earnestness.

  "I don't think there is the slightest possibility of Miss Polly's beingeither," added Sydney with a look which made it evident that concealmenthad not seriously damaged Polly's damask cheek as yet.

  "There's Clara Bird. I have n't seen her but once since she wasmarried. How pretty she looks!" and Polly retired behind the big glassagain, thinking the chat was becoming rather personal.

  "Now, there's a girl who tried a different cure for unrequitedaffection from any you mention. People say she was fond of Belle'sbrother. He did n't reciprocate but went off to India to spoil hisconstitution, so Clara married a man twenty years older than she is andconsoles herself by being the best-dressed woman in the city."

  "That accounts for it," said Polly, when Tom's long whisper ended.

  "For what?"

  "The tired look in her eyes."

  "I don't see it," said Tom, after a survey through the glass.

  "Did n't expect you would."

  "I see what you mean. A good many women have it nowadays," said Sydneyover Polly's shoulder.

  "What's she tired of? The old gentleman?" asked Tom.

  "And herself," added Polly.

  "You've been reading French novels, I know you have. That's just theway the heroines go on," cried Tom.

  "I have n't read one, but it's evident you have, young man, and you'dbetter stop."

  "I don't care for'em; only do it to keep up my French. But how came youto be so wise, ma'am?"

  "Observation, sir. I like to watch faces, and I seldom see a grown-upone that looks perfectly happy."

  "True for you, Polly; no more you do, now I think of it. I don't knowbut one that always looks so, and there it is."

  "Where?" asked Polly, with interest.

  "Look straight before you and you'll see it."

  Polly did look, but all she saw was her own face in the little mirror ofthe fan which Tom held up and peeped over with a laugh in his eyes.

  "Do I look happy? I'm glad of that," And Polly surveyed herself withcare.

  Both young men thought it was girlish vanity and smiled at its naivedisplay, but Polly was looking for something deeper than beauty and wasglad not to find it.

  "Rather a pleasant little prospect, hey, Polly?"

  "My bonnet is straight, and that's all I care about. Did you ever see apicture of Beau Brummel?" asked Polly quickly.

  "No."

  "Well, there he is, modernized." And turning the fan, she showed himhimself.

  "Any more portraits in your gallery?" asked Sydney, as if he liked toshare all the nonsense going.

  "One more."

  "What do you call it?"

  "The portrait of a gentleman." And the little glass reflected agratified face for the space of two seconds.

  "Thank you. I'm glad I don't disgrace my name," said Sydney, lookingdown into the merry blue eyes that thanked him silently for many of thesmall kindnesses that women never can forget.

  "Very good, Polly, you are getting on fast," whispered Tom, patting hisyellow kids approvingly.

  "Be quiet! Dear me, how warm it is!" And Polly gave him a frown thatdelighted his soul.

  "Come out and have an ice, we shall have time."

  "Fan is so absorbed, I could n't think of disturbing her," said Polly,fancying that her friend was enjoying the evening as much as she was agreat mistake, by the way, for Fan was acting for effect, and though shelonged to turn and join them, would n't do it, unless a certain personshowed signs of missing her. He did n't, and Fanny chatted on, raginginwardly over her disappointment, and wondering how Polly could be sogay and selfish.

  It was delicious to see the little airs Polly put on, for she felt as ifshe were somebody else, and acting a part. She leaned back, as if quiteoppressed by the heat, permitted Sydney to fan her, and paid him forthe service by giving him a flower from her bouquet, proceedings whichamused Tom immensely, even while it piqued him a little to be treatedlike an old friend who did n't count.

  "Go in and win, Polly; I'll give you my blessing," he whispered, as thecurtain rose again.

  "It's only part of the fun, so don't you laugh, you disrespectful boy,"she whispered back in a tone never used toward Sydney.

  Tom did n't quite like the different way in which she treated them, andthe word "boy" disturbed his dignity, for he was almost twenty-one andPolly ou
ght to treat him with more respect. Sydney at the same momentwas wishing he was in Tom's place young, comely, and such a familiarfriend that Polly would scold and lecture him in the delightful way shedid Tom; while Polly forgot them both when the music began and left themample time to look at her and think about themselves.

  While they waited to get out when all was over Polly heard Fan whisperto Tom: "What do you think Trix will say to this?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why, the way you've been going on to-night."

  "Don't know, and don't care; it's only Polly."

  "That's the very thing. She can't bear P."

  "Well, I can; and I don't see why I should n't enjoy myself as well asTrix."

  "You'll get to enjoying yourself too much if you are n't careful. Polly's waked up."

  "I'm glad of it, and so's Syd."

  "I only spoke for your good."

  "Don't trouble yourself about me; I get lecturing enough in anotherquarter and can't stand any more. Come, Polly."

  She took the arm he offered her, but her heart was sore and angry,for that phrase, "It's only Polly," hurt her sadly. "As if I was n'tanybody, had n't any feelings, and was only made to amuse or work forpeople! Fan and Tom are both mistaken and I'll show them that Polly isawake," she thought, indignantly. "Why should n't I enjoy myself as wellas the rest? Besides, it's only Tom," she added with a bitter smile asshe thought of Trix.

  "Are you tired, Polly?" asked Tom, bending down to look into her face.

  "Yes, of being nobody."

  "Ah, but you ain't nobody, you're Polly, and you could n't better thatif you tried ever so hard," said Tom, warmly, for he really was fond ofPolly, and felt uncommonly so just then.

  "I'm glad you think so, anyway. It's so pleasant to be liked." And shelooked up with her face quite bright again.

  "I always did like you, don't you know, ever since that first visit."

  "But you teased me shamefully, for all that."

  "So I did, but I don't now."

  Polly did not answer, and Tom asked, with more anxiety than the occasionrequired: "Do I, Polly?"

  "Not in the same way, Tom," she answered in a tone that did n't soundquite natural.

  "Well, I never will again."

  "Yes, you will, you can't help it." And Polly's eye glanced at Sydney,who was in front with Fan.

  Tom laughed, and drew Polly closer as the crowd pressed, saying, withmock tenderness: "Did n't she like to be chaffed about her sweethearts?Well, she shan't be if I can help it. Poor dear, did she get her littlebonnet knocked into a cocked hat and her little temper riled at the sametime?"

  Polly could n't help laughing, and, in spite of the crush, enjoyed theslow journey from seat to carriage, for Tom took such excellent care ofher, she was rather sorry when it was over.

  They had a merry little supper after they got home, and Polly gave thema burlesque opera that convulsed her hearers, for her spirits rose againand she was determined to get the last drop of fun before she went backto her humdrum life again.

  "I've had a regularly splendid time, and thank you ever so much," shesaid when the "good-nights" were being exchanged.

  "So have I. Let's go and do it again to-morrow," said Tom, holding thehand from which he had helped to pull a refractory glove.

  "Not for a long while, please. Too much pleasure would soon spoil me,"answered Polly, shaking her head.

  "I don't believe it. Good-night,'sweet Mistress Milton,' as Syd calledyou. Sleep like an angel, and don't dream of I forgot, no teasingallowed." And Tom took himself off with a theatrical farewell.

  "Now it's all over and done with," thought Polly as she fell asleepafter a long vigil. But it was not, and Polly's fun cost more than theprice of gloves and bonnet, for, having nibbled at forbidden fruit, shehad to pay the penalty. She only meant to have a good time, and therewas no harm in that, but unfortunately she yielded to the various smalltemptations that beset pretty young girls and did more mischief toothers than to herself. Fanny's friendship grew cooler after that night.Tom kept wishing Trix was half as satisfactory as Polly, and Mr. Sydneybegan to build castles that had no foundation.