looking into shop-windows, till Fanny, mindful of her manners, even at such an interesting time, took her into a picture-gallery, and bade her enjoy the works of art while they rested. Obedient Polly went through the room several times, apparently examining the pictures with the interest of a connoisseur, and trying not to hear the mild prattle of the pair on the round seat. But she couldn’t help wondering what Fan found so absorbing in an account of a recent German, and why she need promise so solemnly not to forget the concert that afternoon.

When Fanny rose at last, Polly’s tired face reproached her; and taking a hasty leave of the small gentleman, she turned homeward, saying, confidentially, as she put one hand in Polly’s muff, “Now, my dear, you mustn’t say a word about Frank Moore, or papa will take my head off. I don’t care a bit for him, and he likes Trix; only they have quarrelled, and he wants to make her angry by flirting a little with me. I scolded him well, and he promised to make it up with her. We all go to the afternoon concerts, and have a gay time, and Belle and Trix are to be there to-day; so just keep quiet, and everything will be all right.”

“I’m afraid it won’t,” began Polly, who, not being used to secrets, found it very hard to keep even a small one.

“Don’t worry, child. It’s none of our business; so we can go and enjoy the music, and if other people flirt, it won’t be our fault,” said Fanny, impatiently.

“Of course not; but, then, if your father don’t like you to do so, ought you to go?”

“I tell mamma, and she don’t care. Papa is fussy, and grandma makes a stir about every blessed thing I do. You will hold your tongue, won’t you?”

“Yes; I truly will; I never tell tales.” And Polly kept her word, feeling sure Fan didn’t mean to deceive her father, since she told her mother everything.

“Who are you going with?” asked Mrs. Shaw, when Fanny mentioned that it was concert-day, just before three o’clock.

“Only Polly; she likes music, and it was so stormy I couldn’t go last week, you know,” answered Fan; adding, as they left the house again, “If anyone meets us on the way, I can’t help it, can I?”

“You can tell them not to, can’t you?”

“That’s rude. Dear me! here’s Belle’s brother Gus—he always goes. Is my hair all right, and my hat?”

Before Polly could answer, Mr. Gus joined them as a matter of course, and Polly soon found herself trotting on behind, feeling that things were not “all right”, though she didn’t know how to mend them. Being fond of music, she ignorantly supposed that everyone else went for that alone, and was much disturbed by the whispering that went on among the young people round her. Belle and Trix were there in full dress; and in the pauses between different pieces, Messrs. Frank and Gus, with several other “splendid fellows” regaled the young ladies with college gossip, and bits of news full of interest, to judge from the close attention paid to their eloquent remarks. Polly regarded these noble beings with awe, and they recognized her existence with the condescension of their sex; but they evidently considered her only “a quiet little thing”, and finding her not up to society talk, blandly ignored the pretty child, and devoted themselves to the young ladies. Fortunately for Polly, she forgot all about them in her enjoyment of the fine music, which she felt rather than understood, and sat listening with such a happy face, that several true music-lovers watched her smilingly, for her heart gave a blithe welcome to the melody which put the little instrument in tune. It was dusk when they went out, and Polly was much relieved to find the carriage waiting for them, because playing third fiddle was not to her taste, and she had had enough of it for one day.