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: "Look here! how am I going to know the creature? I never saw her, and she never saw me. You 'll have to come too, Fan," he added, pausing on his way to the door, arrested by the awful idea that he might have to address several strange girls before he got the right one. "You 'll find her easy enough; she 'll probably be standing round looking for us. I dare say she 'll know you, though I 'm not there, because I 've described you to her." "Guess she won't, then;" and Tom gave a hasty smooth to his curly pate and a glance at the mirror, feeling sure that his sister had n't done him justice. Sisters never do, as "we fellows" know too well. "Do go along, or you 'll be too late; and then, what will Polly think of me?" cried Fanny, with the impatient poke which is peculiarly aggravating to masculine dignity. "She 'll think you cared more about your frizzles than your friends, and she 'll be about right, too." Feeling that he said rather a neat and cutting thing, Tom sauntered leisurely away, perfectly conscious that it was late, but bent on not being hurried while in sight, though he ran himself off his legs to make up for it afterward.