"Go in and win, Polly; I'll give you my blessing," he whispered, as the curtain rose again.
"It's only part of the fun, so don't you laugh, you disrespectful boy," she whispered back in a tone never used toward Sydney.
Tom didn't quite like the different way in which she treated them, and the word "boy" disturbed his dignity, for he was almost twenty-one, and Polly ought to treat him with more respect. Sydney, at the same moment, was wishing he was in Tom's place,—young, comely, and such a familiar friend, that Polly would scold and lecture him in the delightful way she did Tom; while Polly forgot them both when the music began, and left them ample time to look at her and think about themselves.
While they waited to get out, when all was over, Polly heard Fan whisper to Tom,—
"What do you think Trix will say to this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, the way you've been going on to-night."
"Don't know, and don't care; it's only Polly."
"That's the very thing; she can't bear P."
"Well, I can; and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy myself as well as Trix."
"You'll get to enjoying yourself too much, if you aren't careful. Polly's waked up."
"I'm glad of it, and so's Syd."
"I only spoke for your good."
"Don't trouble yourself about me; I get lecturing enough in another quarter, and can't stand any more. Come, Polly."
She took the arm he offered her, but her heart was
