looking as if she rather liked it. As she smiled, and waved her bag
at him, he stopped and waited for her, saying to himself, "Hullo! I
wonder if that 's Polly?"

Up came the little girl, with her hand out, and a half-shy,
half-merry look in her blue eyes, as she said, inquiringly, "This is
Tom, is n't it?"

"Yes. How did you know?" and Tom got over the ordeal of
hand-shaking without thinking of it, he was so surprised.

"Oh, Fan told me you 'd got curly hair, and a funny nose, and kept
whistling, and wore a gray cap pulled over your eyes; so I knew
you directly." And Polly nodded at him in the most friendly
manner, having politely refrained from calling the hair "red," the
nose "a pug," and the cap "old," all of which facts Fanny had
carefully impressed upon her memory.

"Where are your trunks?" asked Tom, as he was reminded of his
duty by her handing him the bag, which he had not offered to take.

"Father told me not to wait for any one, else I 'd lose my chance of
a hack; so I gave my check to a man, and there he is with my
trunk;" and Polly walked off after her one modest piece of
baggage, followed by Tom, who felt a trifle depressed by his own
remissness in polite attentions. "She is n't a bit of a young lady,
thank goodness! Fan did n't tell me she was pretty. Don't look like
city girls, nor act like 'em, neither," he thought, trudging in the
rear, and eyeing with favor the brown curls bobbing along in front.