"No, she thinks it's awful. When she gets pale and dragged out she will probably change her mind."
"I doubt it," said Tom.
"Polly says it isn't proper to talk secrets before people who ain't in 'em," observed Maud, with dignity.
"Do, for mercy sake, stop talking about Polly, I'm sick to death of it," cried Fanny, snappishly.
"Hullo!" and Tom sat up to take a survey. "I thought you were bosom friends, and as spoony as ever.'
"Well, I am fond of Polly, but I get tired of hearing Maud sing her praises everlastingly. Now don't go and repeat that, chatterbox."
"My goodness, isn't she cross?" whispered Maud to Tom.
"As two sticks; let her be. There's the bell; see who it is, Pug," answered Tom, as a tingle broke the silence of the house.
Maud went to peep over the banisters, and came flying back in a rapture.
"It's Will come for me! Can't I go? It don't snow hard, and I'll bundle up, and you can send for me when papa comes."
"I don't care what you do," answered Fan, who was in a very bad temper.
Without waiting for any other permission, Maud rushed away to get ready. Will wouldn't come up, he was so snowy, and Fanny was glad, because with her he was bashful, awkward and silent, so Tom went down and entertained him with Maud's report. They were very good friends, but led entirely different lives, Will being a "dig," and Tom a "bird," or, in plain
