truth of her mother’s words, when she said that “even a little girl
could exert an influence, and do some good in this big, busy
world.” She only gave her friend a grateful look sweeter than any
words, and they went on together, hand in hand, through the
“soft-falling snow.”
If Polly could have seen what went into that top tray, she would
have been entirely overcome; for Fanny had told grandma about
the poor little presents she had once laughed at, and they had all
laid their heads together to provide something really fine and
appropriate for every member of the Milton family. Such a mine of
riches! and so much good-will, affection, and kindly forethought
was packed away in the tempting bundles, that no one could feel
offended, but would find an unusual charm about the pretty gifts
that made them doubly welcome. I only know that if Polly had
suspected that a little watch was ticking away in a little case, with
her name on it, inside that trunk, she never could have left it
locked as grandma advised, or have eaten her dinner so quietly. As
it was, her heart was very full, and the tears rose to her eyes more
than once, everyone was so kind, and so sorry to have her go.
Tom did n’t need any urging to play escort now; and both Fan and
Maud insisted on going too. Mrs. Shaw forgot her nerves, and put
up some gingerbread with her own hands; Mr. Shaw kissed Polly
as if she had been his dearest daughter; and grandma held her
close, whispering in a tremulous tone, “My little comfort, come
again soon”; while Katy waved her apron from the nursery
window, crying, as they drove, away, “The saints bless ye, Miss
Polly, dear, and sind ye the best of lucks!”
But the crowning joke of all was Tom’s good-by, for, when Polly
was fairly settled in the car, the last “All aboard!” uttered, and the
train in motion, Tom suddenly produced a knobby little bundle,
and thrusting it in at the window, while he hung on in some
breakneck fashion, said, with a droll mixture of fun and feeling in
his face, “It ‘s horrid; but you wanted it, so I put it in to make you
laugh. Good-by, Polly; good-by, good-by!”
The last adieu was a trifle husky, and Tom vanished as it was
uttered, leaving Polly to laugh over his parting souvenir till the
tears ran down her cheeks. It was a paper bag of peanuts, and
poked down at the very bottom a photograph of Tom. It was
“horrid,” for he looked as if taken by a flash of lightning, so black,
wild, and staring was it; but Polly liked it, and whenever she felt a
little pensive at parting with her friends, she took a peanut, or a
peep at Tom’s funny picture, which made her merry again.
So the short journey came blithely to an end, and in the twilight
she saw a group of loving faces at the door of a humble little
house, which was more beautiful than any palace in her eyes, for it
was home.
CHAPTER VIII SIX YEARS AFTERWARD
“WHAT do you think Polly is going to do this winter?” exclaimed
Fanny, looking up from the letter she had been eagerly reading.
“Going to deliver lectures on Woman’s Rights,” said the young
gentleman who was carefully examining his luxuriant crop of
decidedly auburn hair, as he lounged with both elbows on the
chimney-piece.
“Going to set her cap for some young minister and marry him in
the spring,” added Mrs. Shaw, whose mind ran a good deal upon
match-making just now.
“I think she is going to stay at home, and do all the work, ’cause
servants cost so much; it would be just like her,” observed Maud,
who could pronounce the letter R now.
“It ‘s my opinion she is going to open a school, or something of
that sort, to help those brothers of hers along,” said Mr. Shaw, who
had put down his paper at the sound of Polly’s name.
“Every one of you wrong, though papa comes nearest the truth,”