student, and the other a jolly young gentleman. Tom had rather
patronized Will, who did n’t like it, and showed that he did n’t by
refusing to borrow money of him, or accept any of his invitations
to join the clubs and societies to which Tom belonged. So Shaw let
Milton alone, and he got on very well in his own way, doggedly
sticking to his books, and resisting all temptations but those of
certain libraries, athletic games, and such inexpensive pleasures as
were within his means; for this benighted youth had not yet
discovered that college nowadays is a place in which to “sky-lark,”
not to study.
When Maud came down and trotted contentedly away, holding
Will’s hand, Tom watched them out of sight, and then strolled
about the house whistling and thinking, till he went to sleep in his
father’s arm-chair, for want of something better to do. He awoke to
the joys of a solitary tea, for his mother never came down, and
Fanny shut herself and her headache up in her own room.
“Well, this is cheerful,” he said, as the clock struck eight, and his
fourth cigar came to an end. “Trix is mad, and Fan in the dumps,
so I ‘ll take myself off. Guess I ‘ll go round to Polly’s, and ask Will
to drive out with me, and save him the walk, poor chap. Might
bring Midget home, it will please her, and there ‘s no knowing
when the governor will be back.”
With these thoughts in his head, Tom leisurely got under way, and
left his horse at a neighboring stable, for he meant to make a little
call, and see what it was Maud enjoyed so much.
“Polly is holding forth,” he said to himself, as he went quietly up
stairs, and the steady murmur of a pleasant voice came down to
him. Tom laughed at Polly’s earnest way of talking when she was
interested in anything. But he liked it because it was so different
from the coquettish clatter of most of the girls with whom he
talked. Young men often laugh at the sensible girls whom they
secretly respect, and affect to admire the silly ones whom they
secretly despise, because earnestness, intelligence, and womanly
dignity are not the fashion.
The door was ajar, and pausing in the dark entry Tom took a
survey before he went in. The prospect was not dazzling, but
home-like and pleasant. The light of a bright fire filled the little
room, and down on a stool before it was Maud tending Puttel, and
watching with deep interest the roasting of an apple intended for
her special benefit. On the couch lounged Will, his thoughtful eyes
fixed on Polly, who, while she talked, smoothed the broad
forehead of her “yellow-haired laddie” in a way that Tom thought
an immense improvement on Maud’s performance. They had
evidently been building castles in the air, for Polly was saying in
her most impressive manner, “Well, whatever you do, Will, don’t
have a great, costly church that takes so much money to build and
support it that you have nothing to give away. I like the plain,
old-fashioned churches, built for use, not show, where people met
for hearty praying and preaching, and where everybody made their
own music instead of listening to opera singers, as we do now. I
don’t care if the old churches were bare and cold, and the seats
hard, there was real piety in them, and the sincerity of it was felt in
the lives of the people. I don’t want a religion that I put away with
my Sunday clothes, and don’t take out till the day comes round
again; I want something to see and feel and live by day-by-day, and
I hope you ‘ll be one of the true ministers, who can teach by
precept and example, how to get and keep it.”
“I hope I shall be, Polly, but you know they say that in families, if
there is a boy who can’t do anything else, they make a minister of
him. I sometimes think I ain’t good for much, and that seems to me
the reason why I should n’t even try to be a minister,” said Will,