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Updated: June 10, 2025
"He's the very nicest man in the whole world!" asserted Polly, and her nodding curls emphasized her praise. Dressing came directly after dinner, and Polly had the eager assistance of every girl in the ward that was able to be about on two feet. Angiola Cuneo fetched the pretty black ties, and Mabel Camp the long stockings.
Upon these occasions I complained bitterly to Angiola, the jailer's daughter, and one day, as if she had been in fault, I scolded her so sharply that the poor girl began to weep, sobbing out, "Indeed, sir, I never deceived anybody, and yet everybody calls me a deceitful little mix." "Everybody! Oh then, I see I am not the only one driven to distraction by your vile slops."
Thanks be to Heaven, that I can always recall this excellent little girl to mind without the least tinge of remorse. The following portion of my narrative would assuredly have been more interesting had the gentle Angiola fallen in love with me, or if I had at least run half mad to enliven my solitude.
On another occasion, when she thus threw herself upon my confidence, I was really obliged to disentangle myself from her dear arms, ere I once pressed her to my bosom, or gave her a single kiss, while I stammered out, "I pray you, now, sweet Angiola, do not embrace me ever again; it is not quite proper."
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