p 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 a
little on the step, and Tom stopped in the middle of his laugh to pilot
her safely into the carriage, where Fanny was already seated.

"Here 's richness!" said Polly to herself as she rolled away, feeling
as Cinderella probably did when the pumpkin-coach bore her to the first
ball, 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 talk
much, and Tom would go on in such a ridiculous manner that Polly told
him she would n't listen and began to hum bits of the opera. But
she heard every word, nevertheless, and resolved to pay him for his
impertinence as soon as possible by showing him what he had lost.

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

"Oh, you villain! You did it on purpose," whispered Polly as she turned
from 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 you
see?"

"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 manner
with Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly as if he did n't
quite understand how the gray grub got so suddenly transformed into
a white butterfly. It is a well-known fact that dress plays a very
important part in the lives of most women and even the most sensible
cannot help owning sometimes how much happiness they owe to a becoming
gown, gracefully arranged hair, or a bonnet which brings out the best
points in their faces and puts them in a good humor. A great man was
once heard to say that what first attracted him to his well-beloved wife
was seeing her in a white muslin dress with a blue shawl on the chair
behind her. The dress caught his eye, and, stopping to admire that, the
wearer's intelligent conversation interested his mind, and in time, the
woman's sweetness won his heart. It is not the finest dress which does
the most execution, I fancy, but that which best interprets individual
taste and character. Wise peo