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An Old-Fashioned Girl.

Maud, who was revolving about the two girls, trying to decide whether she would have a blue or a white cloak, when she grew up, and went to operas.

"Faith, and she would! Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs.—Sydney," added Tom, advancing with his wedding reception bow, and a wicked look at Fanny.

"Go away! how dare you?" cried Polly, growing much redder than her rose.

"If we are going to the opera to-night, perhaps we'd better start, as the carriage has been waiting some time," observed Fan, coolly, and sailed out of the room, in an unusually lofty manner.

"Don't you like it, Polly?" whispered Tom, as they went down stairs together.

"Very much."

"The deuce you do!"

"I'm so fond of music, how can I help it?"

"I'm talking about Syd."

"Well, I'm not."

"You'd better try for him."

"I'll think of it."

"Oh, Polly, Polly, what are you coming to?"

"A tumble into the street, apparently," answered Polly, as she slipped a little on the step; and Tom stopped in the middle of his laugh, to pilot her safely into the carriage, where Fanny was already seated.

"Here's richness!" said Polly to herself, as she rolled away, feeling as Cinderella probably did when the pumpkin-coach bore her to the first ball, only Polly had two princes to think about, and poor Cinderella, on that occasion, had not even one. Fanny