"Polly 's so pretty, it don't matter what she wears," observed Tom,
surveying her over his collar with an air of calm approval.
"She has n't got any bwetelles to her dwess, and I have," said
Maud, settling her ruffled bands over her shoulders, which looked
like cherry-colored wings on a stout little cherub.
"I did wish she 'd just wear my blue set, ribbon is so very plain;
but, as Tom says, it don't much matter;" and Fanny gave an
effective touch to the blue bow above Polly's left temple.
"She might wear flowers; they always suit young girls," said Mrs.
Shaw, privately thinking that her own daughters looked much the
best, yet conscious that blooming Polly had the most attractive
face. "Bless me! I forgot my posies in admiring the belles. Hand
them out, Tom;" and Mr. Shaw nodded toward an interesting
looking box that stood on the table.
Seizing them wrong side-up, Tom produced three little bouquets,
all different in color, size, and construction.
"Why, papa! how very kind of you," cried Fanny, who had not
dared to receive even a geranium leaf since the late scrape.
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