unpropitious night.
“The hot pan has melted and sunk in the snow perhaps,” said
Fanny, digging into the drift where it was left.
“Those old cats have got it, I guess,” suggested Maud, too much
overwhelmed by this second blow to howl as usual.
“The gate is n’t locked, and some beggar has stolen it. I hope it will
do him good,” added Polly, turning from her exploring expedition.
“If Tom could get out, I should think he ‘d carried it off; but not
being a rat, he can’t go through the bits of windows; so it was n’t
him,” said Fanny, disconsolately, for she began to think this double
loss a punishment for letting angry passions rise, “Let ‘s open the
door and tell him about it,” proposed Polly.
“He ‘ll crow over us. No; we ‘ll open it and go to bed, and he can
come out when he likes. Provoking boy! if he had n’t plagued us
so, we should have had a nice time.”
Unbolting the cellar door, the girls announced to the invisible
captive that they were through, and then departed much depressed.
Half-way up the second flight, they all stopped as suddenly as if
they had seen a ghost; for looking over the banisters was Tom’s
face, crocky but triumphant, and in either hand a junk of candy,
which he waved above them as he vanished, with the tantalizing
remark, “Don’t you wish you had some?”
“How in the world did he get out?” cried Fanny, steadying herself
after a start that nearly sent all three tumbling down stairs.
“Coal-hole!” answered a spectral voice from the gloom above.
“Good gracious! He must have poked up the cover, climbed into
the street, stole the candy, and sneaked in at the shed-window
while we were looking for it.”
“Cats got it, did n’t they?” jeered the voice in a tone that made
Polly sit down and laugh till she could n’t laugh any longer.
“Just give Maud a bit, she ‘s so disappointed. Fan and I are sick of
it, and so will you be, if you eat it all,” called Polly, when she got
her breath.
“Go to bed, Maudie, and look under your pillow when you get
there,” was the oracular reply that came down to them, as Tom’s
door closed after a jubilant solo on the tin pan.
The girls went to bed tired out; and Maud slumbered placidly,
hugging the sticky bundle, found where molasses candy is not
often discovered. Polly was very tired, and soon fell asleep; but
Fanny, who slept with her, lay awake longer than usual, thinking
about her troubles, for her head ached, and the dissatisfaction that
follows anger would not let her rest with the tranquillity that made
the rosy face in the little round nightcap such a pleasant sight to
see as it lay beside her. The gas was turned down, but Fanny saw a
figure in a gray wrapper creep by her door, and presently return,
pausing to look in. “Who is it?” she cried, so loud that Polly woke.
“Only me, dear,” answered grandma’s mild voice. “Poor Tom has
got a dreadful toothache, and I came down to find some creosote
for him. He told me not to tell you; but I can’t find the bottle, and
don’t want to disturb mamma.”
“It ‘s in my closet. Old Tom will pay for his trick this time,” said
Fanny, in a satisfied tone.
“I thought he ‘d get enough of our candy,” laughed Polly; and then
they fell asleep, leaving Tom to the delights of toothache and the
tender mercies of kind old grandma.
CHAPTER III POLLY’S TROUBLES
POLLY soon found that she was in a new world, a world where the
manners and customs were so different from the simple ways at
home, that she felt like a stranger in a strange land, and often
wished that she had not come. In the first place, she had nothing to
do but lounge and gossip, read novels, parade the streets, and
dress; and before a week was gone, she was as heartily sick of all
this, as a healthy person would be who attempted to live on