te things on the dining-room floor as I raced
through. Go get them, Maud, and we 'll repair damages," said Tom,
shutting the culprit into the boot closet, where he placidly rolled
himself 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, who
had been examining it with a solicitude which made Tom's eyes twinkle.

"So am I, for it strikes me that is an uncommonly 'nobby' little
affair," 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 and
let 's see."

"I would n't for the world, with my hair all tumbling down. Don't look
at me till I 'm respectable, and don't tell any one how I 've been
acting. I think I must 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 for
her dishevelment. "Dress that girl up, and she 'd be a raving, tearing
beauty," added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look her into the
parlor 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 peeped
over the banisters, glad to see that the dance and the race had taken
the "band-boxy" air out of Tom's elegant array.

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

The friends had a social "cup o' tea" upstairs, which Polly considered
the height of luxury, and then each took a mirror and proceeded to prink
to her heart's content. The earnestness with which Polly made her toilet
that night was delightful to behold. Feeling in a daring mood, she
released her pretty