anger.

"No, it is n't," answered the young lady, with a cool stare that utterly
quenched him.

"Where in thunder is she?" growled Tom, walking off in high dudgeon. The
quick tap of feet behind him made him turn in time to see a fresh-faced
little girl running down the long station, and looking as if she rather
liked it. As she smiled, and waved her bag at him, he stopped and waited
for her, saying to himself, "Hullo! I wonder if that 's Polly?"

Up came the little girl, with her hand out, and a half-shy, half-merry
look in her blue eyes, as she said, inquiringly, "This is Tom, is n't
it?"

"Yes. How did you know?" and Tom got over the ordeal of hand-shaking
without thinking of it, he was so surprised.

"Oh, Fan told me you 'd got curly hair, and a funny nose, and kept
whistling, and wore a gray cap pulled over your eyes; so I knew you
directly." And Polly nodded at him in the most friendly manner, having
politely refrained from calling the hair "red," the nose "a pug," and
the cap "old," all of which facts Fanny had carefully impressed upon her
memory.

"Where are your trunks?" asked Tom, as he was reminded of his duty by
her handing him the bag, which he had not offered to take.

"Father told me not to wait for any one, else I 'd lose my chance of a
hack; so I gave my check to a man, and there he is with my trunk;" and
Polly walked off after her one modest piece of baggage, followed by Tom,
who felt a trifle depressed by his own remissness in polite attentions.
"She is n't a bit of a young lady, thank goodness! Fan did n't tell me
she was pretty. Don't look like city girls, nor act like 'em, neither,"
he thought, trudging in the rear, and eyeing with favor the brown curls
bobbing along in front.

As the carriage drove off, Polly gave a little bounce on the springy
seat, and laughed like a delighted child. "I do like to ride in these
nice hacks, and see all the fine things, and have a good time, don't
you?" she said, composing herself the next minute, as if it suddenly
occurred to her that she was going a-visiting.

"Not much," said Tom, not minding what he said, for the fact that he was
shut up with the strange girl suddenly oppressed his soul.

"How 's Fan? Why did n't she come, too?" asked Polly, trying to look
demure, while her eyes danced in spite of her.

"Afraid of spoiling her crinkles;" and Tom smiled, for this base
betrayal of confidence made him feel his own man again.

"You and I don't mind d