had a nice time coming, and no trouble, except the tipsy
coachman; but Tom got out and kept him in order, so I was n't much
frightened," answered innocent Polly, taking off her rough-and-ready
coat, and the plain hat without a bit of a feather.

"Fiddlestick! he was n't tipsy; and Tom only did it to get out of the
way. He can't bear girls," said Fanny, with a superior air.

"Can't he? Why, I thought he was very pleasant and kind!" and Polly
opened her eyes with a surprised expression.

"He 's an awful boy, my dear; and if you have anything to do with
him, he 'll torment you to death. Boys are all horrid; but he 's the
horridest one I ever saw."

Fanny went to a fashionable school, where the young ladies were so busy
with their French, German, and Italian, that there was no time for
good English. Feeling her confidence much shaken in the youth, Polly
privately resolved to let him alone, and changed the conversation, by
saying, as she looked admiringly about the large, handsome room, "How
splendid it is! I never slept in a bed with curtains before, or had such
a fine toilet-table as this."

"I 'm glad you like it; but don't, for mercy sake, say such things
before the other girls!" replied Fanny, wishing Polly would wear
ear-rings, as every one else did.

"Why not?" asked the country mouse of the city mouse, wondering what
harm there was in liking other people's pretty things, and saying
so. "Oh, they laugh at everything the least bit odd, and that is n't
pleasant." Fanny did n't say "countrified," but she meant it, and Polly
felt uncomfortable. So she shook out her little black silk apron with
a thoughtful face, and resolved not to allude to her own home, if she
could help it.

"I 'm so poorly, mamma says I need n't go to school regularly, while you
are here, only two or three times a week, just to keep up my music and
French. You can go too, if you like; papa said so. Do, it 's such fun!"
cried Fanny, quite surprising her friend by this unexpected fondness for
school.

"I should be afraid, if all the girls dress as finely as you do, and
know as much," said Polly, beginning to feel shy at the thought.

"La, child! you need n't mind that. I 'll take care of you, and fix you
up, so you won't look odd."

"Am I odd?" asked Polly, struck by the word and hoping it did n't mean
anything very bad.

"You are a dear, and ever so much prettier than you were last summer,
only you 've been brought up differently from us