“My patient little Polly!”
“Did you really care for me before you went?”
“See if I did n’t;” and with great pride Tom produced a portly
pocket-book stuffed with business-like documents of a most
imposing appearance, opened a private compartment, and took out
a worn-looking paper, unfolded it carefully, and displayed a small
brown object which gave out a faint fragrance.
“That ‘s the rose you put in the birthday cake, and next week we ‘ll
have a fresh one in another jolly little cake which you ‘ll make me;
you left it on the floor of my den the night we talked there, and I
‘ve kept it ever since. There ‘s love and romance for you!”
Polly touched the little relic, treasured for a year, and smiled to
read the words “My Polly’s rose,” scribbled under the crumbling
leaves.
“I did n’t know you could be so sentimental,” she said, looking so
pleased that he did not regret confessing his folly.
“I never was till I loved you, my dear, and I ‘m not very bad yet, for
I don’t wear my posy next my heart, but where I can see it every
day, and so never forget for whom I am working. Should n’t
wonder if that bit of nonsense had kept me economical, honest,
and hard at it, for I never opened my pocket-book that I did n’t
think of you.”
“That ‘s lovely, Tom,” and Polly found it so touching that she felt
for her handkerchief; but Tom took it away, and made her laugh
instead of cry, by saying, in a wheedlesome tone, “I don’t believe
you did as much, for all your romance. Did you, now?”
“If you won’t laugh, I ‘ll show you my treasures. I began first, and I
‘ve worn them longest.”
As she spoke, Polly drew out the old locket, opened it, and showed
the picture Tom gave her in the bag of peanuts cut small and fitted
in on one side on the other was a curl of reddish hair and a black
button. How Tom laughed when he saw them!
“You don’t mean you ‘ve kept that frightful guy of a boy all this
time? Polly! Polly! you are the most faithful ‘loveress,’ as Maud
says, that was ever known.”
“Don’t flatter yourself that I ‘ve worn it all these years, sir; I only
put it in last spring because I did n’t dare to ask for one of the new
ones. The button came off the old coat you insisted on wearing
after the failure, as if it was your duty to look as shabby as
possible, and the curl I stole from Maud. Are n’t we silly?”
He did not seem to think so, and after a short pause for
refreshments, Polly turned serious, and said anxiously, “When
must you go back to your hard work?”
“In a week or two; but it won’t seem drudgery now, for you ‘ll write
every day, and I shall feel that I ‘m working to get a home for you.
That will give me a forty-man-power, and I ‘ll pay up my debts and
get a good start, and then Ned and I will be married and go into
partnership, and we ‘ll all be the happiest, busiest people in the
West.”
“It sounds delightful; but won’t it take a long time, Tom?”
“Only a few years, and we need n’t wait a minute after Syd is paid,
if you don’t mind beginning rather low down, Polly.”
“I ‘d rather work up with you, than sit idle while you toil away all
alone. That ‘s the way father and mother did, and I think they were
very happy in spite of the poverty and hard work.”
“Then we ‘ll do it by another year, for I must get more salary
before I take you away from a good home here. I wish, oh, Polly,
how I wish I had a half of the money I ‘ve wasted, to make you
comfortable, now.”
“Never mind, I don’t want it; I ‘d rather have less, and know you
earned it all yourself,” cried Polly, as Tom struck his hand on his