AFTER being unusually good, children are apt to turn short round and refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week after Tom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so that grandma said she was afraid "something was going to happen to them." The dear old lady need n't have felt anxious, for such excessive virtue does n't last long enough to lead to translation, except with little prigs in the goody story-books; and no sooner was Tom on his legs again, when the whole party went astray, and much tribulation was the consequence.
It all began with "Polly's stupidity," as Fan said afterward. Just as Polly ran down to meet Mr. Shaw one evening, and was helping him off with his coat, the bell rang, and a fine bouquet of hothouse flowers was left in Polly's hands, for she never could learn city ways, and opened the door herself.
"Hey! what's this? My little Polly is beginning early, after all," said Mr. Shaw, laughing, as he watched the girl's face dimple and flush, as she smelt the lovely nosegay, and glanced at a note half hidden in the heliotrope.
Now, if Polly had n't been "stupid," as Fan said, she would have had her wits about her, and let it pass; but, you see, Polly was an honest little soul and it never occurred to her that there was any need of concealment, so she answered in her straightforward way, "Oh, they ain't for me, sir;they are for Fan; from Mr. Frank, I guess. She 'll be so pleased.""That puppy sends her things of this sort, does he?" And Mr. Shaw looked far from pleased as he pulled out the note, and coolly opened it.
Polly had her doubts about Fan's approval of that "sort of thing," but dared not say a word, and stood thinking how she used to show her father the funny valentines the boys sent her, and how they laughed over them together. But Mr. Shaw did not laugh when he had read the sentimental verses accompanying the bouquet, and his face quite scared Polly, as he asked, angrily, "How long has this nonsense been going on?""Indeed, sir, I don't know. Fan does n't mean any harm. I wish I had n't said anything!" stammered Polly, remembering the promise given to Fanny the day of the concert. She had forgotten all about it and had become accustomed to see the "big boys," as she called Mr. Frank and his friends, with the girls on all occasions. Now, it suddenly occurred to her that Mr. Shaw did n't like such amusements, and had forbidden Fan to indulge in them.
"Oh, dear! how mad she will be. Well, I can't help it. Girls should n't have secrets from their fathers, then there would n't be any fuss," thought Polly, as she watched Mr. Shaw twist up the pink note and poke it back among the flowers which he took from her, saying, shortly, "Send Fanny to me in the library.""Now you 've done it, you stupid thing!" cried Fanny, both angry and dismayed, when Polly delivered the message.
"Why, what else could I do?" asked Polly, much disturbed.
"Let him think the bouquet was for you; then there'd have been no trouble.""But that would have been doing a lie, which is most as bad as telling one.""Don't be a goose. You 've got me into a scrape, and you ought to help me out.""I will if I can; but I won't tell lies for anybody!" cried Polly, getting excited.
"Nobody wants you to just hold, your tongue, and let me manage.""Then I 'd better not go down," began Polly, when a stern voice from below called, like Bluebeard, "Are you coming down?""Yes, sir," answered a meek voice; and Fanny clutched Polly, whispering, "You must come; I 'm frightened out of my wits when he speaks like that. Stand by me, Polly; there 's a dear.""I will," whispered "sister Ann"; and down they went with fluttering hearts.
Mr. Shaw stood on the rug, looking rather grim; the bouquet lay on the table, and beside it a note, directed to "Frank Moore, Esq.," in a very decided hand, with a fierce-looking flourish after the "Esq." Pointing to this impressive epistle, Mr. Shaw said, knitting his black eyebrows as he looked at Fanny, "I 'm going to put a stop to this nonsense at once;and if I see any more of it, I 'll send you to school in a Canadian convent."This awful threat quite took Polly's breath away; but Fanny had heard it before, and having a temper of her own, said, pertly, "I 'm sure I have n't done anything so very dreadful. I can't help it if the boys send me philopena presents, as they do to the other girls.""There was nothing about philopenas in the note. But that 's not the question. I forbid you to have anything to do with this Moore. He 's not a boy, but a fast fellow, and I won't have him about. You knew this, and yet disobeyed me.""I hardly ever see him," began Fanny.
"Is that true?" asked Mr. Shaw, turning suddenly to Polly.
"Oh, please, sir, don't ask me. I promised I would n'tthat isFanny will tell you," cried Polly, quite red with distress at the predicament she was in.
"No matter about your promise; tell me all you know of this absurd affair.
It will do Fanny more good than harm." And Mr. Shaw sat down looking more amiable, for Polly's dismay touched him.
"May I?" she whispered to Fanny.
"I don't care," answered Fan, looking both angry and ashamed, as she stood sullenly tying knots in her handkerchief.
So Polly told, with much reluctance and much questioning, all she knew of the walks, the lunches, the meetings, and the notes. It was n't much, and evidently less serious than Mr. Shaw expected; for, as he listened, his eyebrows smoothed themselves out, and more than once his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, for after all, it was rather comical to see how the young people aped their elders, playing the new-fashioned game, quite unconscious of its real beauty, power, and sacredness.
"Oh, please, sir, don't blame Fan much, for she truly is n't half as silly as Trix and the other, girls. She would n't go sleigh-riding, though Mr. Frank teased, and she wanted to ever so much. She 's sorry, I know, and won't forget what you say any more, if you 'll forgive her this once,"cried Polly, very earnestly, when the foolish little story was told.
