om, enjoying this broadside immensely, but feeling guilty, as well he
might.

"Just one bit more," whispered Fanny, turning on a page or two, and
stopping at a leaf that was blurred here and there as if tears had
dropped on it.

"Sunday morning, early. Nobody is up to spoil my quiet time, and I must
write my journal, for I 've been so bad lately, I could n't bear to do
it. I 'm glad my visit is most done, for things worry me here, and there
is n't any one to help me get right when I get wrong. I used to envy
Fanny; but I don't now, for her father and mother don't take care of her
as mine do of me. She is afraid of her father, and makes her mother do
as she likes. I 'm glad I came though, for I see money don't give
people everything; but I 'd like a little all the same, for it is so
comfortable to buy nice things. I read over my journal just now, and
I 'm afraid it 's not a good one; for I have said all sorts of things
about the people here, and it is n't kind. I should tear it out, only I
promised to keep my diary, and I want to talk over things that puzzle me
with mother. I see now that it is my fault a good deal; for I have n't
been half as patient, and pleasant as I ought to be. I will truly try
for the rest of the time, and be as good and grateful as I can; for I
want them to like me, though I 'm only 'an old-fashioned country girl.'"

That last sentence made Fanny shut the book, with a face full of
self-reproach; for she had said those words herself, in a fit of
petulance, and Polly had made no answer, though her eyes filled and her
cheeks burned. Fan opened her lips to say something, but not a sound
followed, for there stood Polly looking at them with an expression they
had never seen before.

"What are you doing with my things?" she demanded, in a low tone, while
her eyes kindled and her color changed.

"Maud showed us a book she found, and we were just looking at the
pictures," began Fanny, dropping it as if it burnt her fingers.

"And reading my journal, and laughing at my presents, and then putting
the blame on Maud. It 's the meanest thing I ever saw; and I 'll never
forgive you as long as I live!"

Polly said, this all in one indignant breath, and then as if afraid
of saying too much, ran out of the room with such a look of mingled
contempt, grief, and anger, that the three culprits stood dumb with
shame. Tom had n't even a whistle at his command; Maud was so scared at
gentle Polly's outbreak, that s