Louisa May Alcott （b. 1833，d. 1888） was born at Germantown，Pa.of New England parentage. Her parents afterwards returned tNew England，and most of her life was spent in Concord，Mass. During the Civil War she went tWashington and nursed the wounded and sick until her own health gave way. As a child she used twrite stories for the amusement of her playmates，and in 1857 published her first book，"Flower Fables." Her first novel，"Moods，" appeared in 1865. "Little Women，" published in 1868，is a picture of her own home life. "An Old Fashioned Girl，" from which this extract is adapted，was published in 1870，and is one of her most popular books.
1.Polly hoped the "dreadful boy" （Tom） would not be present；but he was，and stared at her all dinner time in a most trying manner.
2.Mr. Shaw，a busy-looking gentleman，said，"How dyou do，my dear？ Hope you‘ll enjoy yourself；" and then appeared tforget her entirely. Mrs. Shaw，a pale，nervous woman，greeted her little guest kindly，and took care that she wanted for nothing.
3.Madam Shaw，a quiet old lady，with an imposing1cap，exclaimed，on seeing Polly，"Bless my heart！ the image of her mother-a sweet woman-how is she，dear？" and kept peering at the newcomer over her glasses till，between Madam and Tom，poor Polly lost her appetite.
4.Her cousin Fanny chatted like a magpie2，and little Maudfidgeted，till Tom proposed tput her under the big dish cover，which produced such an explosion that the young lady was borne1Imposing，having the power of exciting attention and feeling，impressive. 2Magpie，a noisy，mischievous bird，common in Europe and America.
screaming away by the much-enduring nurse.
5.It was，altogether，an uncomfortable dinner，and Polly was very glad when it was over. They all went about their own affairs；and，after doing the honors of the house，Fan was called tthe dressmaker，leaving Polly tamuse herself in the great drawing-room.
6.Polly was glad tbe alone for a few minutes；and，having examined all the pretty things about her，began twalk up and down over the soft，flowery carpet，humming therself，as the daylight faded，and only the ruddy glow of the fire filled the room.
7.Presently Madam came slowly in，and sat down in her armchair，saying，"That’s a fine old tune；sing it tme，my dear. I have n‘t heard it this many a day."
8.Polly didn’t like tsing before strangers，for she had nteaching but such as her busy mother could give her；but she had been taught the utmost respect for old people，and，having nreason for refusing，she directly went tthe pianand did as she was bid.
9."That‘s the sort of music it’s a pleasure thear. Sing some more，dear，" said Madam，in her gentle way，when she had done.
10.Pleased with this praise，Polly sang away in a fresh little voice that went straight tthe listener‘s heart and nestled there. The sweet old tunes that one is never tired of were all Polly’s store. The more she sung，the better she did it；and when she wound up with "A Health tKing Charlie，" the room quite rung with the stirring music made by the big pianand the little maid.
11."That‘s a jolly tune！ Sing it again，please，" cried Tom’s voice；and there was Tom‘s red head bobbing up over the high back of the chair where he had hidden himself.
12.It gave Polly quite a turn，for she thought none was hearing her but the old lady dozing by the fire. "I can’t sing any more；I‘m tired，" she said，and walked away tMadam in the other room. The red head vanished 1like a meteor2，for Polly’s tone had been decidedly1Vanished，disappeared.2Meteor，a shooting star.cool.
13.The old lady put out her hand，and，drawing Polly ther knee，looked inther face with such kind eyes that Polly forgot the impressive cap，and smiled at her confidently1；for she saw that her simple music had pleased her listener，and she felt glad tknow it.
14."You mus‘n’t mind my staring ，dear，" said Madam，softly pinching her rosy cheek，"I haven‘t seen a little girl for slong，it does my old eyes good tlook at you." Polly thought that a very odd speech，and could n’t help saying，"Are n‘t Fan and Maud little girls，too？"
15."Oh，dear，no！ not what I call little girls. Fan has been a young lady this twyears，and Maud is a spoiled baby. Your mother’s a very sensible woman，my child."
16."What a queer old lady！" thought Polly；but she said "Yes‘m，" respectfully，and looked at the fire. "You don’t understand what I mean，dyou？" asked Madam，still holding her by the chin. "No‘m；notquite."
17."Well，dear，I’ll tell you. In my day，children of fourteen and fifteen did n‘t dress in the height of the fashion；gtparties as nearly like those of grown people as it’s possible tmake them；lead idle，giddy，unhealthy lives，and get blase‘2 at twenty. We were little folks till eighteen or so；worked and studied，dressed and played，like children；honored our parents；and our days were much longer in the land than now，it seems tme."
18.The old lady appeared tforget Polly，at the end of her speech；for she sat patting the plump little hand that lay in her own，and looking up at a faded picture of an old gentleman with a ruffled shirt and a queue. "Was he your father，Madam？"
19."Yes，my dear；my honored father. I did up his frills tthe day of his death；and the first money I ever earned，was five dollars which he offered as a prize twhichever of his six girls would lay the1Confidently，with trust.2Blase，a French word meaning surfeited，rendered incapable further enjoyment.handsomest darn in his silk stockings."
20."How proud you must have been！" cried Polly，leaning on the old lady’s knee with an interested face.
21."Yes；and we all learned tmake bread，and cook，and wore little chintz gowns，and were as gay and hearty as kittens. All lived tbe grandmothers；and I‘m the last-seventy next birthday，my dear，and not worn out yet；though daughter Shaw is an invalid1 at forty."
22."That’s the way I was brought up，and that‘s why Fan calls me old-fashioned，I suppose. Tell more about your papa，please；I like it，" said Polly.
23."Say，’father.ˊWe never called him papa；and if one of my brothers had addressed him as ’governor，ˊas boys now do，I really think he’d have him cut off with a shilling."1Invalid，a person whis sickly.
