Creative Books

"Why, what else could I do?" asked Polly, much disturbed.
"Let him think the bouquet was for you; then there'd have been no
trouble."
"But that would have been doing a lie, which is most as bad as
telling one."
"Don't be a goose. You 've got me into a scrape, and you ought to
help me out."
"I will if I can; but I won't tell lies for anybody!" cried Polly,
getting excited.
"Nobody wants you to just hold, your tongue, and let me manage."
"Then I 'd better not go down," began Polly, when a stern voice
from below called, like Bluebeard, "Are you coming down?"
"Yes, sir," answered a meek voice; and Fanny clutched Polly,
whispering, "You must come; I 'm frightened out of my wits when
he speaks like that. Stand by me, Polly; there 's a dear."
"I will," whispered "sister Ann"; and down they went with
fluttering hearts.
Mr. Shaw stood on the rug, looking rather grim; the bouquet lay on
the table, and beside it a note, directed to "Frank Moore, Esq.," in a
very decided hand, with a fierce-looking flourish after the "Esq.


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