"If you had moved, this wouldn't have happened!" she exclaimed.
"It was impossible for me to do so," replied the woman, just as quietly
as ever. Just then Tom Selwyn rushed up: "Mother!" to the plain-looking
woman; "well, we _did_ get separated! Oh!" and seeing her
companion he plunged back.
Fanny Vanderburgh, well in the rear, a party of young German girls
impeding the way, felt her mother's grasp, and looked around.
"Oh, you've torn your lace sleeve!" she exclaimed, supposing the black
looks referred to that accident.
"Torn my sleeve!" echoed her mother, irately, "that's a trifle," while
Fanny stared in surprise, knowing, by past experience, that much lesser
accidents had made black days for her; "I'm the unluckiest person
alive. And think of all the money your father has given me to spend,
and it won't do any good. Fanny, I'm going straight back to Paris, as
quickly as possible."
"Why, I'm having a good time now," said Fanny, just beginning to enjoy
herself. "Polly Pepper is real nice to me. I don't want to go home a
bit." All this as they slowly filed out in the throng.
"Well, you're going; and, oh, those Peppers and those Kings, I'm sick
to death of their names," muttered her mother, frowning on her.
"Why can't we wait for Polly?" asked Fanny, not catching the last
words, and pausing to look back.
"Because you can't, that's why. And never say a word about that Polly
Pepper or any of the rest of that crowd," commanded her mother, trying
to hurry on.
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