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 isn'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 haven'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
