Polly was to be left at home after depositing Fan at Belle's.

"I feel as if I was going myself," she said, as they rolled along.

"I wish you were, and you would be, Polly, if you weren't such a
resolute thing. I 've teased, and begged, and offered anything I have if
you 'll only break your absurd vow, and come and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you; but I won't, so don't trouble your kind heart about me; I 'm
all right," said Polly, stoutly.

But when they drew up before the lighted house, and she found herself
in the midst of the pleasant stir of festivity, the coming and going of
carriages, the glimpses of bright colors, forms, and faces, the bursts
of music, and a general atmosphere of gayety, Polly felt that she was
n't all right, and as she drove away for a dull evening in her lonely
little room, she just cried as heartily as any child denied a stick of
candy.

"It 's dreadful wicked of me, but I can't help it," she sobbed to
herself, in the corner of the carriage. "That music sets me all in a
twitter, and I should have looked nice in Fan's blue tarlatan, and
I know I could behave as well as any one, and have lots of partners,
though I 'm not in that set. Oh, just one good gallop with Mr. Sydney or
Tom! No, Tom would n't ask me there, and I would n't accept if he did.
Oh, me! oh, me! I wish I was as old and homely, and good and happy, as
Miss Mills!"

So Polly made her moan, and by the time she got home, was just in the
mood to go to bed and cry herself to sleep, as girls have a way of doing
when their small affliction becomes unbearable.

But Polly did n't get a chance to be miserable very long, for as she
went up stairs feeling like the most injured girl in the world, she
caught a glimpse of Miss Mills, sewing away with such a bright face that
she could n't resist stopping for a word or two.

"Sit down, my dear, I 'm glad to see you, but excuse me if I go on with
my work, as I 'm in a driving hurry to get these things done to-night,"
said the brisk little lady, with a smile and a nod, as she took a new
needleful of thread, and ran up a seam as if for a wager.

"Let me help you, then; I 'm lazy and cross, and it will do me good,"
said Polly, sitting down with the resigned feeling. "Well, if I can't be
happy, I can be useful, perhaps."

"Thank you, my dear; yes, you can just hem the skirt while I put in the
sleeves, and that will be a great lift."

Polly put on her thimble in silence, but as Miss Mills sp