Before they could start, however, the awful spectacle of a little dog trotting out of the room with a paper parcel in his mouth, made Polly clasp her hands with the despairing cry:"My bonnet! Oh, my bonnet!"
"Where? what? which?" And Tom looked about him, bewildered.
"Snip's got it. Save it! save it!"
"I will!" And Tom gave chase with more vigor than discretion.
Snip, evidently regarding it as a game got up for his special benefit, enjoyed the race immensely and scampered all over the house, shaking the precious parcel like a rat while his master ran and whistled, commanded and coaxed, in vain. Polly followed, consumed with anxiety, and Maud laughed till Mrs. Shaw sent down to know who was in hysterics. A piteous yelp from the lower regions at last announced that the thief was captured, and Tom appeared bearing Snip by the nape of the neck in one hand and Polly's cherished bonnet in the other.
"The little scamp was just going to worry it when I grabbed him. I 'm afraid he has eaten one of your gloves. I can't find it, and this one is pretty well chewed up," said Tom, bereaving Snip of the torn kid, to which he still pertinaciously clung.
"Serves me right," said Polly with a groan. "I 'd no business to get a new pair, but I wanted to be extra gorgeous to-night, and this is my punishment for such mad extravagance.""Was there anything else?" asked Tom.
"Only my best cuffs and collar. You 'll probably find them in the coal-bin,"said Polly, with the calmness of despair.
"I saw some little white things on the dining-room floor as I raced through. Go get them, Maud, and we 'll repair damages," said Tom, shutting the culprit into the boot closet, where he placidly rolled himself up and went to sleep.
"They ain't hurt a bit," proclaimed Maud, restoring the lost treasures.
"Neither is my bonnet, for which I 'm deeply grateful," said Polly, who had been examining it with a solicitude which made Tom's eyes twinkle.
"So am I, for it strikes me that is an uncommonly 'nobby' little affair,"he said approvingly. Tom had a weakness for pale pink roses, and perhaps Polly knew it.
"I 'm afraid it 's too gay," said Polly, with a dubious look.
"Not a bit. Sort of bridal, you know. Must be becoming. Put it on and let 's see.""I would n't for the world, with my hair all tumbling down. Don't look at me till I 'm respectable, and don't tell any one how I 've been acting.
I think I must be a little crazy to-night," said Polly, gathering up her rescued finery and preparing to go and find Fan.
"Lunacy is mighty becoming, Polly. Try it again," answered Tom, watching her as she went laughing away, looking all the prettier for her dishevelment.
"Dress that girl up, and she 'd be a raving, tearing beauty," added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look her into the parlor under his arm.
Polly heard it and instantly resolved to be as "raving and as tearing"as her means would allow, "just for one night," she said as she peeped over the banisters, glad to see that the dance and the race had taken the "band-boxy" air out of Tom's elegant array.
I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of my readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by expressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a little story about Young America, for Young America, I feel bound to depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powers permit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, "Well, I dare say it 's all very prim and proper, but it is n't a bit like us," and never hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of "An Old-Fashioned Girl" the dirtiest in the library.
The friends had a social "cup o' tea" upstairs, which Polly considered the height of luxury, and then each took a mirror and proceeded to prink to her heart's content. The earnestness with which Polly made her toilet that night was delightful to behold. Feeling in a daring mood, she released her pretty hair from the braids in which she usually wore it and permitted the curls to display themselves in all their brown abundance, especially several dangerous little ones about the temples and forehead. The putting on of the rescued collar and cuffs was a task which absorbed her whole mind. So was the settling of a minute bit of court-plaster just to the left of the dimple in her chin, an unusual piece of coquetry in which Polly would not have indulged, if an almost invisible scratch had not given her an excuse for doing it. The white, down-trimmed cloak, with certain imposing ornaments on the hood, was assumed with becoming gravity and draped with much advancing and retreating before the glass, as its wearer practised the true Boston gait, elbows back, shoulders forward, a bend and a slide, occasionally varied by a slight skip. But when that bonnet went on, Polly actually held her breath till it was safely landed and the pink rose bloomed above the smooth waves of hair with what Fanny called "a ravishing effect."At this successful stage of affairs Polly found it impossible to resist the loan of a pair of gold bands for the wrists and Fanny's white fan with the little mirror in the middle.
"I can put them in my pocket if I feel too much dressed," said Polly as she snapped on the bracelets, but after a wave or two of the fan she felt that it would be impossible to take them off till the evening was over, so enticing was their glitter.
Fanny also lent her a pair of three-button gloves, which completed her content, and when Tom greeted her with an approving, "Here 's a sight for gods and men! Why, Polly, you 're gorgeous!" she felt that her "fun" had decidedly begun.
"Would n't Polly make a lovely bride?" said Maud, who was revolving about the two girls, trying to decide whether she would have a blue or a white cloak when she grew up and went to operas.
"Faith, and she would! Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs. Sydney," added Tom, advancing with his wedding-reception bow and a wicked look at Fanny.
"Go away! How dare you?" cried Polly, growing much redder than her rose.
