that if you tried ever so hard.” said Tom, warmly, for he really was
fond of Polly, and felt uncommonly so just then.
“I ‘m glad you think so, anyway. It ‘s so pleasant to be liked.” And
she looked up with her face quite bright again.
“I always did like you, don’t you know, ever since that first visit.”
“But you teased me shamefully, for all that.”
“So I did, but I don’t now.”
Polly did not answer, and Tom asked, with more anxiety than the
occasion required: “Do I, Polly?”
“Not in the same way, Tom,” she answered in a tone that did n’t
sound quite natural.
“Well, I never will again.”
“Yes, you will, you can’t help it.” And Polly’s eye glanced at
Sydney, who was in front with Fan.
Tom laughed, and drew Polly closer as the crowd pressed, saying,
with mock tenderness: “Did n’t she like to be chaffed about her
sweethearts? Well, she shan’t be if I can help it. Poor dear, did she
get her little bonnet knocked into a cocked hat and her little
temper riled at the same time?”
Polly could n’t help laughing, and, in spite of the crush, enjoyed the
slow journey from seat to carriage, for Tom took such excellent
care of her, she was rather sorry when it was over.
They had a merry little supper after they got home, and Polly gave
them a burlesque opera that convulsed her hearers, for her spirits
rose again and she was determined to get the last drop of fun
before she went back to her humdrum life again.
“I ‘ve had a regularly splendid time, and thank you ever so much,”
she said when the “good-nights” were being exchanged.
“So have I. Let ‘s go and do it again to-morrow,” said Tom, holding
the hand from which he had helped to pull a refractory glove.
“Not for a long while, please. Too much pleasure would soon spoil
me,” answered Polly, shaking her head.
“I don’t believe it. Good-night, ‘sweet Mistress Milton,’ as Syd
called you. Sleep like an angel, and don’t dream of I forgot, no
teasing allowed.” And Tom took himself off with a theatrical
farewell.
“Now it ‘s all over and done with,” thought Polly as she fell asleep
after a long vigil. But it was not, and Polly’s fun cost more than the
price of gloves and bonnet, for, having nibbled at forbidden fruit,
she had to pay the penalty. She only meant to have a good time,
and there was no harm in that, but unfortunately she yielded to the
various small temptations that beset pretty young girls and did
more mischief to others than to herself. Fanny’s friendship grew
cooler after that night. Tom kept wishing Trix was half as
satisfactory as Polly, and Mr. Sydney began to build castles that
had no foundation.
CHAPTER XIII THE SUNNY SIDE
“I ‘VE won the wager, Tom.”
“Did n’t know there was one.”
“Don’t you remember you said Polly would be tired of her teaching
and give it up in three months, and I said she would n’t?”
“Well, is n’t she?”
“Not a bit of it. I thought she was at one time, and expected every
day to have her come in with a long face, and say she could n’t
stand it. But somehow, lately, she is always bright and happy,
seems to like her work, and don’t have the tired, worried look she
used to at first. The three months are out, so pay up, Tommy.”
“All right, what will you have?”
“You may make it gloves. I always need them, and papa looks
sober when I want money.”
There was a minute’s pause as Fan returned to her practising, and
Tom relapsed into the reverie he was enjoying seated astride of a
chair, with his chin on his folded arms.
“Seems to me Polly don’t come here as often as she used to,” he
said, presently.
“No, she seems to be very busy; got some new friends, I believe,
old ladies, sewing-girls, and things of that sort. I miss her, but
know she ‘ll get tired of being goody, and will come back to me