you two or three things, as Will does?”
Mind it? Polly felt that Tom had paid her the highest and most
beautiful compliment he could have devised. She had often longed
to do it, for, being brought up in the most affectionate and frank
relations with her brothers, she had early learned what it takes
most women some time to discover, that sex does not make nearly
as much difference in hearts and souls as we fancy. Joy and
sorrow, love and fear, life and death bring so many of the same
needs to all, that the wonder is we do not understand each other
better, but wait till times of tribulation teach us that human nature
is very much the same in men and women. Thanks to this
knowledge, Polly understood Tom in a way that surprised and won
him. She knew that he wanted womanly sympathy, and that she
could give it to him, because she was not afraid to stretch her hand
across the barrier which our artificial education puts between boys
and girls, and to say to him in all good faith, “If I can help you, let
me.”
Ten minutes sooner Polly could have done this almost as easily to
Tom as to Will, but in that ten minutes something had happened
which made this difficult. Reading that Trix had given Tom back
his freedom changed many things to Polly, and caused her to
shrink from his confidence, because she felt as if it would be
harder now to keep self out of sight; for, spite of maiden modesty,
love and hope would wake and sing at the good news. Slowly she
sat down, and hesitatingly she said, with her eyes on the ground,
and a very humble voice, “I ‘ll do my best, but I can’t fill
grandma’s place, or give you any wise, good advice. I wish I
could!”
“You ‘ll do it better than any one else. Talk troubles mother, father
has enough to think of without any of my worries. Fan is a good
soul, but she is n’t practical, and we always get into a snarl if we
try to work together, so who have I but my other sister, Polly? The
pleasure that letter will give you may make up for my boring you.”
As he spoke, Tom laid the other paper in her lap, and went off to
the window, as if to leave her free to enjoy it unseen; but he could
not help a glance now and then, and as Polly’s face brightened, his
own fell.
“Oh, Tom, that ‘s a birthday present worth having, for it ‘s so
beautifully given I don’t see how you can refuse it. Arthur Sydney
is a real nobleman!” cried Polly, looking up at last, with her fact
glowing, and her eyes full of delight.
“So he is! I don’t know another man living, except father, who
would have done such a thing, or who I could bring myself to take
it from. Do you see, he ‘s not only paid the confounded debts, but
has done it in my name, to spare me all he could?”
“I see, it ‘s like him; and I think he must be very happy to be able
to do such a thing.”
“It is an immense weight off my shoulders, for some of those men
could n’t afford to wait till I ‘d begged, borrowed, or earned the
money. Sydney can wait, but he won’t long, if I know myself.”
“You won’t take it as a gift, then?”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Then don’t think I will. I ‘m a pretty poor affair, Polly, but I ‘m not
mean enough to do that, while I ‘ve got a conscience and a pair of
hands.”
A rough speech, but it pleased Polly better than the smoothest Tom
had ever made in her hearing, for something in his face and voice
told her that the friendly act had roused a nobler sentiment than
gratitude, making the cancelled obligations of the boy, debts of
honor to the man.
“What will you do, Tom?”
“I ‘ll tell you; may I sit here?” And Tom took the low footstool that