and led him on till the poor fellow lost his wits, and finding her
crying one day (about her hat, which was n’t becoming), he thought
she was mourning for Mr. Banks, and so, to comfort her, the goose
proposed. That was all she wanted; she snapped him up at once,
and there he is in a nice scrape; for since her engagement she is as
gay as ever, flirts awfully with any one who comes along, and
keeps Tom in a fume all the time. I really don’t think he cares for
her half as much as he makes believe, but he ‘ll stand by her
through thick and thin, rather than do as Banks did.”
“Poor Tom!” was all Polly said, when Fan had poured the story
into her ear, as they sat whispering in the sofa corner.
“My only consolation is that Trix will break off the affair before
spring; she always does, so that she may be free for the summer
campaign. It won’t hurt Tom, but I hate to have him make a fool of
himself out of pity, for he is more of a man than he seems, and I
don’t want any one to plague him.”
“No one but yourself,” said Polly, smiling.
“Well, that ‘s all fair; he is a torment sometimes, but I ‘m rather
fond of him in spite of it. I get so tired of the other fellows, they
are such absurd things and when Tom is in his good mood he is
very nice and quite refreshing.”
“I ‘m glad to hear it,” said Polly, making a mental note of the fact.
“Yes, and when grandma was ill he was perfectly devoted. I did n’t
know the boy had so much gentleness in him. He took her death
sadly to heart, for, though he did n’t say much, he was very grave
and steady for a long time. I tried to comfort him, and we had two
or three real sweet little talks together, and seemed to get
acquainted for the first time. It was very nice, but it did n’t last;
good times never do with us. We soon got back into the old way,
and now we hector one another just as before.”
Fanny sighed, then yawned, and fell into her usual listless attitude,
as if the brief excitement of Polly’s coming had begun to subside.
“Walk home with me and see my funny little room. It ‘s bright
now, and the air will do you good. Come, both of you, and have a
frolic as we used to,” said Polly, for the red sunset now burning in
the west seemed to invite them out.
They agreed, and soon the three were walking briskly away to
Polly’s new home, in a quiet street, where a few old trees rustled in
the summer, and the morning sun shone pleasantly in winter time.
“The way into my parlor Is up a winding stair.”
sang Polly, running up two flights of broad, old-fashioned steps,
and opening the door of a back room, out of which streamed the
welcome glow of firelight.
“These are my pets, Maud,” she added, pausing on the threshold,
and beckoning the girls to look in quietly.
On the rug, luxuriously basking in the warmth, lay a gray kitten,
and close by, meditatively roosting on one leg, stood a plump
canary, who cocked his bright eye at the new-comers, gave a loud
chirp as if to wake his comrade, and then flew straight to Polly’s
shoulder, where he broke into a joyful song to welcome his
mistress home.
“Allow me to introduce my family,” said Polly; “this noisy little
chap the boys named Nicodemus; and this dozy cat is called
Ashputtel, because the joy of her life is to get among the cinders.
Now, take off your things, and let me do the honors, for you are to
stop to tea, and the carriage is to come for you at eight. I arranged
it with your mother while you were up-stairs.”
“I want to see everything,” said Maud, when the hats were off, and
the hands warmed.
“So you shall; for I think my housekeeping arrangements will