satisfaction, and considered the effect so fine, that he was inspired
to try a still greater metamorphosis. The dress Fan had taken off
lay on a chair, and into it got Tom, chuckling with suppressed
laughter, for Polly was absorbed, and the bed-curtains hid his
iniquity. Fan’s best velvet jacket and hat, ermine muff, and a
sofa-pillow for pannier, finished off the costume, and tripping
along with elbows out, Tom appeared before the amazed Polly just
as the chapter ended. She enjoyed the joke so heartily, that Tom
forgot consequences, and proposed going down into the parlor to
surprise, the girls.
“Goodness, no! Fanny never would forgive us if you showed her
curls and things to those people. There are gentlemen among them,
and it would n’t be proper,” said Polly, alarmed at the idea.
“All the more fun. Fan has n’t treated you well, and it will serve her
right if you introduce me as your dear friend, Miss Shaw. Come
on, it will be a jolly lark.”
“I would n’t for the world; it would be so mean. Take ’em off, Tom,
and I ‘ll play anything else you like.”
“I ain’t going to dress up for nothing; I look so lovely, someone
must admire me. Take me down, Polly, and see if they don’t call
me ‘a sweet creature.’ ”
Tom looked so unutterably ridiculous as he tossed his curls and
pranced, that Polly went off into another gale of merriment; but
even while she laughed, she resolved not to let him mortify his
sister.
“Now, then, get out of the way if you won’t come; I ‘m going
down,” said Tom.
“No, you ‘re not.”
“How will you help it, Miss Prim?”
“So.” And Polly locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and
nodded at him defiantly.
Tom was a pepper-pot as to temper, and anything like opposition
always had a bad effect. Forgetting his costume, he strode up to
Polly, saying, with a threatening wag of the, head, “None of that. I
won’t stand it.”
“Promise not to plague Fan, and I ‘ll let you out.”
“Won’t promise anything. Give me that key, or I ‘ll make you.”
“Now, Tom, don’t be savage. I only want to keep you out of a
scrape, for Fan will be raging if you go. Take off her things, and I
‘ll give up.”
Tom vouchsafed no reply, but marched to the other door, which
was fast, as Polly knew, looked out of the three-story window, and
finding no escape possible, came back with a wrathful face. “Will
you give me that key?”
“No, I won’t,” said Polly, valiantly.
“I ‘m stronger than you are; so you ‘d better hand over.”
“I know you are; but it ‘s cowardly for a great boy like you to rob a
girl.”
“I don’t want to hurt you; but, by George! I won’t stand this!”
Tom paused as Polly spoke, evidently ashamed of himself; but his
temper was up, and he would n’t give in. If Polly had cried a little
just here, he would have yielded; unfortunately she giggled, for
Tom’s fierce attitude was such a funny contrast to his dress that she
could n’t help it. That settled the matter. No girl that ever lived
should giggle at him, much less lock him up like a small child.
Without a word, he made a grab at Polly’s arm, for the hand
holding the key was still in her, pocket. With her other hand she
clutched her frock, and for a minute held on stoutly. But Tom’s
strong fingers were irresistible; rip went the pocket, out came the
hand, and with a cry of pain from Polly, the key fell on the floor.
“It ‘s your own fault if you ‘re hurt. I did n’t mean to,” muttered
Tom, as he hastily departed, leaving Polly to groan over her
sprained wrist. He went down, but not into the parlor, for
somehow the joke seemed to have lost its relish; so he made the
girls in the kitchen laugh, and then crept up the back way, hoping
to make it all right with Polly. But she had gone to grandma’s
room, for, though the old lady was out, it seemed a refuge. He had