Did you ever see a picture of Beau Brummel ?" asked Polly quickly.
"No." "Well, there he is, modernized." And turning the fan, she showed him himself.
"Any more portraits in your gallery ?" asked Sydney, as if he liked to share all the nonsense going.
"One more." "What do you call it ?" "The portrait of a gentleman." And the little glass reflected a gratified face for the space of two seconds.
"Thank you.

I 'm glad I don't disgrace my name," said Sydney, looking down into the merry blue eyes that thanked him silently for many of the small kindnesses that women never can forget.
"Very good, Polly, you are getting on fast," whispered Tom, patting his yellow kids approvingly.
"Be quiet! Dear me, how warm it is!" And Polly gave him a frown that delighted his soul.
"Come out and have an ice, we shall have time." "Fan is so absorbed, I could n't think of disturbing her," said Polly, fancying that her friend was enjoying the evening as much as she was a great mistake, by the way, for Fan was acting for effect, and though she longed to turn and join them, would n't do it, unless a certain person showed signs of missing her.

He did n't, and Fanny chatted on, raging inwardly over her disappointment, and wondering how Polly could be so gay and selfish.
It was delicious to see the little airs Polly put on, for she felt as if she were somebody else, and acting a part.

She leaned back, as if quite oppressed by the heat, permitted Sydney to fan her, and paid him for the service by giving him a flower from her bouquet, proceedings which amused Tom immensely, even while it piqued him a little to be treated like an old friend who did n't count.
"Go in and win, Polly; I 'll give you my blessing," he whispered, as the curtain rose again.
"It 's only part of the fun, so don't you laugh, you disrespectful boy," she whispered back in a tone never used toward Sydney.
Tom did n't quite like the different way in which she treated them, and the word "boy" disturbed his dignity, for he was almost twenty-one and Polly ought to treat him with more respect.

Sydney at the same moment was wishing he was in Tom's place young, comely, and such a familiar friend that Polly would scold and lecture him in the delightful way she did Tom; while Polly forgot them both when the music began and left them ample time to look at her and think about themselves.
While they waited to get out when all was over Polly heard Fan whisper to Tom: "What do you think Trix will say to this ?" "What do you mean ?" "Why, the way you 've been going on to-night." "Don't know, and don't care; it 's only Polly." "That 's the very thing.