An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott

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,

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