Fanny did n't seem
inclined to talk much, and Tom would go on in such a ridiculous
manner that Polly told him she would n't listen and began to hum
bits of the opera. But she heard every word, nevertheless, and
resolved to pay him for his impertinence as soon as possible by
showing him what he had lost.
Their seats were in the balcony, and hardly were they settled,
when, by one of those remarkable coincidences which are
continually occurring in our youth, Mr. Sydney and Fanny's old
friend Frank Moore took their places just behind them.
"Oh, you villain! You did it on purpose," whispered Polly as she
turned from greeting their neighbors and saw a droll look on Tom's
face.
"I give you my word I did n't. It 's the law of attraction, don't you
see?"
"If Fan likes it, I don't care."
"She looks resigned, I think."
She certainly did, for she was talking and laughing in the gayest
manner with Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly as
if he did n't quite understand how the gray grub got so suddenly
transformed into a white butterfly.
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