Read An Old-Fashioned Girl for Free Online Page B

get fine brisk walks round the park, on the unfashionable
     side, where the babies took their airings; or she went inside, to watch the boys coasting, and to wish she could coast too,
     as she did at home. She never went far, and always came back rosy and gay.
    One afternoon, just before dinner, she felt so tired of doing nothing, that she slipped out for a run. It had been a dull
     day; but the sun was visible now, setting brightly below the clouds. It was cold but still, and Polly trotted down the smooth,
     snow-covered mall, humming to herself, and trying not to feel homesick. The coasters were at it with all their might, and
     she watched them, till her longing to join the fun grew irresistible. On the hill, some little girls were playing with their
     sleds — real little girls, in warm hoods and coats, rubber boots and mittens — and Polly felt drawn toward them in spite of
     her fear of Fan.
    “I want to go down, but I darsn’t, it’s so steep,” said one of these “common children,” as Maud called them.
    “If you’ll lend me your sled, and sit in my lap, I’ll take you down all nice,” answered Polly, in a confidential tone.
    The little girls took a look at her, seemed satisfied, and accepted her offer. Polly looked carefully round to see that no
     fashionable eye beheld the awful deed, and finding all safe, settled her freight, and spun away downhill, feeling all over
     the delightsome excitement of swift motion which makes coasting such a favorite pastime with the more sensible portion of
     the child-world. One after another, she took the little girls down the hill and dragged them up again, while they regarded
     her in the light of a gray-coated angel, descended for their express benefit. Polly was just finishing off with one delicious
     “go” all by herself, when she heard a familiar whistle behind her, and before she could get off, up came Tom, looking as much
     astonished as if he had found her mounted on an elephant.
    “Hullo, Polly! What’ll Fan say to you?” was his polished salutation.
    “Don’t know, and don’t care. Coasting is no harm; I like it, and I’m going to do it, now I’ve got a chance; so clear the lul-la!”
     And away went independent Polly, with her hair blowing in the wind, and an expression of genuine enjoyment, which a very red
     nose didn’t damage in the least.
    “Good for you, Polly!” And casting himself upon his sled, with the most reckless disregard for his ribs, off whizzed Tom after
     her, and came alongside just as she reined up “General Grant” on the broad path below. “Oh, won’t you get it when we go home?”
     cried the young gentleman, even before he changed his graceful attitude.
    “I shan’t, if you don’t go and tell; but of course you will,” added Polly, sitting still, while an anxious expression began
     to steal over her happy face.
    “I just won’t, then,” returned Tom, with the natural perversity of his tribe.
    “If they ask me, I shall tell, of course; if they don’t ask, I think there’s no harm in keeping still. I shouldn’t have done
     it, if I hadn’t known my mother was willing; but I don’t wish to trouble your mother by telling of it. Do you think it was
     very dreadful of me?” asked Polly, looking at him.
    “I think it was downright jolly; and I won’t tell, if you don’t want me to. Now, come up and have another,” said Tom, heartily.
    “Just one more; the little girls want to go, and this is their sled.”
    “Let ’em take it, ’tisn’t good for much; and you come on mine. Mazeppa’s a stunner; you see if he isn’t.”
    So Polly tucked herself up in front, Tom hung on behind in some mysterious manner, and Mazeppa proved that he fully merited
     his master’s sincere if inelegant praise. They got on capitally now, for Tom was in his proper sphere, and showed his best
     side, being civil and gay in the bluff boy-fashion that was natural to him; while Polly forgot to be shy, and liked this sort
     of