Creative Books

"Polly 's mad! Polly 's mad!" sung Maud, skipping rope round the
room.
"If Mr. Sydney could see you now he would n't think you such an
angel any more," added Fanny, tossing a bean-bag and her head at
the same time.
Polly was mad, her face was very red, her eyes very bright and her
lips twitched, but she held her tongue and began to swing as hard
as she could, fearing to say something she would be sorry for
afterward. For a few minutes no one spoke, Tom whistled and
Maud hummed but Fan and Polly were each soberly thinking of
something, for they had reached an age when children, girls
especially, begin to observe, contrast, and speculate upon the
words, acts, manners, and looks of those about them. A good deal
of thinking goes on in the heads of these shrewd little folks, and
the elders should mind their ways, for they get criticised pretty
sharply and imitated very closely.
Two little things had happened that day, and the influence of a few
words, a careless action, was still working in the active minds of
the girls.


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