An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

ma’am,” answered Tom.

“Did I tell you that Will was going to college?” broke in Polly, to

avert the rising storm.

“Hope he ‘ll enjoy himself,” observed Tom, with the air of a man

who had passed through all the mysteries, and reached that state of

sublime indifference which juniors seem to pride themselves upon.

“I think he will, he is so fond of study, and is so anxious to

improve every opportunity. I only hope he won’t overwork and get

sick, as so many boys do,” said simple Polly, with such a respectful

belief in the eager thirst for knowledge of collegians as a class,

that Tom regarded the deluded girl with a smile of lofty pity, from

the heights of his vast and varied experience.

“Guess he won’t hurt himself. I ‘ll see that he don’t study too hard.”

And Tom’s eyes twinkled as they used to do, when he planned his

boyish pranks.

“I ‘m afraid you can’t be trusted as a guide, if various rumors I ‘ve

heard are true,” said Polly, looking up at him with a wistful

expression, that caused his face to assume the sobriety of an owl’s.

“Base slanders; I ‘m as steady as a clock, an ornament to my class,

and a model young man, ain’t I, mother?” And Tom patted her thin

cheek with a caressing hand, sure of one firm friend in her; for

when he ceased to be a harum-scarum boy, Mrs. Shaw began to

take great pride in her son, and he, missing grandma, tried to fill

her place with his feeble mother.

“Yes, dear, you are all I could ask,” and Mrs. Shaw looked up at

him with such affection and confidence in her eyes, that Polly gave

Tom the first approving look she had vouchsafed him since she

came.

Why Tom should look troubled and turn grave all at once, she

could n’t understand, but she liked to see him stroke his mother’s

cheek so softly, as he stood with his head resting on the high back

of her chair, for Polly fancied that he felt a man’s pity for her

weakness, and was learning a son’s patient love for a mother who

had had much to bear with him.

“I ‘m so glad you are going to be here all winter, for we are to be

very gay, and I shall enjoy taking you round with me,” began

Fanny, forgetting Polly’s plan for a moment.

Polly shook her head decidedly. “It sounds very nice, but it can’t be

done, Fan, for I ‘ve come to work, not play; to save, not spend; and

parties will be quite out of the question for me.”

“You don’t intend to work all the time, without a bit of fun, I

hope,” cried Fanny, dismayed at the idea.

“I mean to do what I ‘ve undertaken, and not to be tempted away

from my purpose by anything. I should n’t be fit to give lessons if I

was up late, should I? And how far would my earnings go towards

dress, carriages, and all the little expenses which would come if I

set up for a young lady in society? I can’t do both, and I ‘m not

going to try, but I can pick up bits of fun as I go along, and be

contented with free concerts and lectures, seeing you pretty often,

and every Sunday Will is to spend with me, so I shall have quite as

much dissipation as is good for me.”

“If you don’t come to my parties, I ‘ll never forgive you,” said

Fanny, as Polly paused, while Tom chuckled inwardly at the idea

of calling visits from a brother “dissipation.”

“Any small party, where it will do to wear a plain black silk, I can

come to; but the big ones must n’t be thought of, thank you.”

It was charming to see the resolution of Polly’s face when she said

that; for she knew her weakness, and beyond that black silk she

had determined not to go. Fanny said no more, for she felt quite

sure that Polly would relent when the time came, and she planned

to give her a pretty dress for a Christmas present, so that one

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