CHAPTER XV. BREAKERS AHEAD
GOING into the Shaws' one evening, Polly found Maud sitting on thestairs, with a troubled face.
"Oh, Polly, I'm so glad you've come!" cried the little girl, runningto hug her.
"What's the matter, deary?"
"I don't know; something dreadful must have happened, for mamma and Fanare crying together upstairs, papa is shut up in the library, and Tom israging round like a bear, in the dining-room."
"I guess it is n't anything very bad. Perhaps mamma is sicker thanusual, or papa worried about business, or Tom in some new scrape. Don'tlook so frightened, Maudie, but come into the parlor and see what I'vegot for you," said Polly, feeling that there was trouble of some sort inthe air, but trying to cheer the child, for her little face was full ofa sorrowful anxiety, that went to Polly's heart.
"I don't think I can like anything till I know what the matter is,"answered Maud. "It's something horrid, I'm sure, for when papa camehome, he went up to mamma's room, and talked ever so long, and mammacried very loud, and when I tried to go in, Fan would n't let me, andshe looked scared and strange. I wanted to go to papa when he came down,but the door was locked, and he said, 'Not now, my little girl,' andthen I sat here waiting to see what would happen, and Tom came home. Butwhen I ran to tell him, he said, 'Go away, and don't bother,' and justtook me by the shoulders and put me out. Oh, dear! everything is soqueer and horrid, I don't know what to do."
Maud began to cry, and Polly sat down on the stairs beside her, tryingto comfort her, while her own thoughts were full of a vague fear. Allat once the dining-room door opened, and Tom's head appeared. A singleglance showed Polly that something was the matter, for the care andelegance which usually marked his appearance were entirely wanting. Histie was under one ear, his hair in a toss, the cherished moustache hada neglected air, and his face an expression both excited, ashamed, anddistressed; even his voice betrayed disturbance, for instead of theaffable greeting he usually bestowed upon the young lady, he seemed tohave fallen back into the bluff tone of his boyish days, and all he saidwas, "Hullo, Polly."
"How do you do?" answered Polly.
"I'm in a devil of a mess, thank you; send that chicken up stairs, andcome in and hear about it," he said, as if he had been longing to tellsome one, and welcomed prudent Polly as a special providence.
"Go up, deary, and amuse yourself with this book, and these ginger snapsthat I made for you, there's a good child," whispered Polly, as Maudrubbed away her tears, and stared at Tom with round, inquisitive eyes.
"You'll tell me all about it, by and by, won't you?" she whispered,preparing to obey.
"If I may," answered Polly.
Maud departed with unexpected docility, and Polly went into thedining-room, where Tom was wandering about in a restless way. If hehad been "raging like a bear," Polly would n't have cared, she was sopleased that he wanted her, and so glad to be a confidante, as she usedto be in the happy old days, that she would joyfully have faced a muchmore formidable person than reckless Tom.
"Now, then, what is it?" she said, coming straight to the point.
"Guess."
"You've killed your horse racing."
"Worse than that."
"You are suspended again."
"Worse than that."
"Trix has run away with somebody," cried Polly, with a gasp.
"Worse still."
"Oh, Tom, you have n't horse whipped or shot any one?"
"Came pretty near blowing my own brains out but you see I did n't."
"I can't guess; tell me, quick."
"Well, I'm expelled."
Tom paused on the rug as he gave the answer, and looked at Polly to seehow she took it. To his surprise she seemed almost relieved, and after aminute silence, said, soberly, "That's bad, very bad; but it might havebeen worse."
"It is worse;" and Tom walked away again with a despairing sort ofgroan.
"Don't knock the chairs about, but come and sit down, and tell mequietly."
"Can't do it."
"Well, go on, then. Are you truly expelled? Can't it be made up? Whatdid you do?"
"It's a true bill this time. I just had a row with the Chapel watchman,and knocked him down. If it was a first offence, I might have got off;but you see I've had no end of narrow escapes, and this was my lastchance; I've lost it, and now there'll be the dickens to pay. I knewit was all up with me, so I did n't wait to be turned out, but just tookmyself off."
"What will your father say?"
"It will come hard on the governor, but the worst of it is" there Tomstopped, and stood a minute in the middle of the room with his headdown, as if he did n't find it easy to tell even kind little Polly.Then out came the truth all in a breath, just as he used to bolt out hisboyish misdemeanors, and then back up against the wall ready to take theconsequences.
"I owe an awful lot of money that the governor don't know about."
"Oh, Tom, how could you?"
"I've been an extravagant rascal, I know it, and I'm thundering sorry,but that don't help a fellow, I've got to tell the dear old buffer, andthere's where it cuts."
At another time Polly would have laughed at the contrast between Tom'sface and his language, but there was a sincere remorse, which made eventhe dreadful word "buffer" rather touching than otherwise.
"He will be very angry, I dare say; but he'll help you, won't he? Healways does, Fan says."
"That's the worst of it, you see. He's paid up so often, that the lasttime he said his patience could n't stand it, nor his pocket either, andif I got into any more scrapes of that sort, I must get out as I could.I meant to be as steady as Bunker Hill Monument; but here I am again,worse than ever, for last quarter I did n't say anything to father, hewas so bothered by the loss of those ships just then, so things havemounted up confoundedly."
"What have you done with all your money?"
"Hanged if I know."
"Can't you pay it anyway?"
"Don't see how, as I have n't a cent of my own, and no way of gettingit, unless I try gambling."
"Oh, mercy, no! Sell your horse," cried Polly, after a minute of deepmeditation.
"I have; but he did n't bring half I gave for him. I lamed him lastwinter, and the beggar won't get over it."
"And that did n't pay up the debts?"
"Only about a half of'em."
"Why, Tom, how much do you owe?"
"I have dodged figuring it up till yesterday; then things were sodesperate, I thought I might as well face the truth, so I overhauled myaccounts, and there's the result."
Tom threw a blotted, crumpled paper into Polly's lap, and tramped upand down again, faster than ever. Polly took one look at the total andclasped her hands, for to her inexperienced eyes it looked appalling.
"Tidy little sum, is n't it?" asked Tom, who could n't bear the silence,or the startled, grieved look in Polly's eyes.
"It's awful! I don't wonder you dread telling your father."
"I'd rather be shot. I say, Polly, suppose we break it to him easy!"added Tom, after another turn.
"How do you mean?"
"Why, suppose Fan, or, better still, you go and sort of pave the way. Ican't bear to come down on him with the whole truth at once."
"So you'd like to have me go and tell him for you?" Polly's lip curleda little as she said that, and she gave Tom a look that would haveshown him how blue eyes can flash, if he had seen it. But he was at thewindow, and did n't turn, as he said slowly, "Well, you see, he'sso fond of you; we all confide in you; and you are so like one of thefamily, that it seems quite natural. Just tell him I'm expelled, youknow, and as much more as you like; then I'll come in, and we'll haveit out."
Polly rose and went to the door without a word. In doing so, Tom caughta glimpse of her face, and said, hastily, "Don't you think it would be agood plan?"
"No, I don't."
"Why not? Don't you think he'd rather have it told him nicely by you,than blurted out as I always do blurt things?"
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bsp; "I know he'd rather have his son go to him and tell the truth, like aman, instead of sending a girl to do what he is afraid to do himself."
If Polly had suddenly boxed his ears, Tom could n't have looked moretaken aback than by that burst. He looked at her excited face, seemedto understand the meaning of it, and remembered all at once that he wastrying to hide behind a girl. He turned scarlet, said shortly, "Comeback, Polly," and walked straight out of the room, looking as if goingto instant execution, for poor Tom had been taught to fear his father,and had not entirely outgrown the dread.
Polly sat down, looking both satisfied and troubled. "I hope I didright," she said to herself, "I could n't bear to have him shirk andseem cowardly. He is n't, only he did n't think how it seemed to me, andI don't wonder he was a little afraid, Mr. Shaw is so severe with thepoor fellow. Oh, dear, what should we do if Will got into such scrapes.Thank goodness, he's poor, and can't; I'm so glad of that!"
Then she sat silent beside the half-open door, hearing the murmur ofTom's voice across the hall, and hoping, with all her heart, that hewould n't have a very hard time. He seemed to tell his story rapidly andsteadily, without interruption, to the end; then Polly heard Mr. Shaw'sdeeper voice say a few words, at which Tom uttered a loud exclamation,as if taken by surprise. Polly could n't distinguish a word, so she kepther seat, wondering anxiously what was going on between the two men. Asudden pause seemed to follow Tom's ejaculation, then Mr. Shaw talked along time in a low, earnest tone, so different from the angry one Pollyhad expected to hear, that it made her nervous, for Mr. Shaw usually"blew Tom up first, and forgave him afterward," as Maud said. PresentlyTom's voice was heard, apparently asking eager questions, to which briefreplies were given. Then a dead silence fell upon the room, and nothingwas heard but the spring rain softly falling out of doors. All of asudden she heard a movement, and Tom's voice say audibly, "Let me bringPolly;" and he appeared, looking so pale and miserable that Polly wasfrightened.
"Go and say something to him; I can't; poor old father, if I'd onlyknown," and to Polly's utter dismay, Tom threw himself into a chair, andlaid his head down on the table, as if he had got a blow that was toomuch for him.
"Oh, Tom, what is it?" cried Polly, hurrying to him, full of fears shedared not speak.
Without looking up, Tom answered, in a smothered voice, "Failed; allgone to smash; and to-morrow every one will know it."
Polly held on to the back of Tom's chair, for a minute, for the newstook her breath away, and she felt as if the world was coming to an end,"failed" was such a vaguely dreadful word to her.
"Is it very bad?" she asked, softly, feeling as if anything was betterthan to stand still and see Tom so wretched.
"Yes; he means to give up everything. He's done his best; but it can'tbe staved off any longer, and it's all up with him."
"Oh, I wish I had a million to give him!" cried Polly, clasping herhands, with the tears running down her cheeks. "How does he bear it,Tom?"
"Like a man, Polly; and I'm proud of him," said Tom, looking up,all red and excited with the emotions he was trying to keep under."Everything has been against him, and he has fought all alone to standthe pressure, but it's too much for him, and he's given in. It's anhonorable failure, mind you, and no one can say a word against him. I'dlike to see'em try it!" and Tom clenched his hands, as if it wouldbe an immense relief to him to thrash half a dozen aspersers of hisfather's honest name.
"Of course they can't! This is what poor Maud troubled about. He hadtold your mother and Fan before you came, and that is why they are sounhappy, I suppose."
"They are safe enough. Father has n't touched mother's money; he'couldn't rob his girls,' he said, and that's all safe for'em. Is n't hea trump, Polly?" And Tom's face shone with pride, even while his lipswould twitch with a tenderer feeling.
"If I could only do anything to help," cried Polly, oppressed with herown powerlessness.
"You can. Go and be good to him; you know how; he needs it enough, allalone there. I can't do it, for I'm only a curse instead of a comfortto him."
"How did he take your news?" asked Polly, who, for a time, had forgottenthe lesser trouble in the greater.
"Like a lamb; for when I'd done, he only said, 'My poor lad, we mustbear with one another.' and then told his story."
"I'm glad he was kind," began Polly, in a soothing tone; but Tom criedout, remorsefully, "That's what knocks me over! Just when I ought tobe a pride and a prop to him, I bring him my debts and disgrace, and henever says a word of blame. It's no use, I can't stand it!" and Tom'shead went down again with something very like a sob, that would comein spite of manful efforts to keep it back, for the poor fellow had thewarmest heart that ever was, and all the fine waistcoats outside couldn't spoil it.
That sound gave Polly more pain than the news of a dozen failures andexpulsions, and it was as impossible for her to resist putting herhand tenderly on the bent head, as it was for her to help noticing withpleasure how brown the little curls were growing, and how soft theywere. In spite of her sorrow, she enjoyed that minute very much, for shewas a born consoler, and, it is hardly necessary for me to add, lovedthis reprehensible Tom with all her heart. It was a very foolish thingfor her to do, she quite agreed to that; she could n't understand it,explain it, or help it; she only felt that she did care for him verymuch, in spite of his faults, his indifference, and his engagement. Yousee, she learned to love him one summer, when he made them a visit. Thatwas before Trix caught him; and when she heard that piece of news, Pollycould n't unlove him all at once, though she tried very hard, as was herduty. That engagement was such a farce, that she never had much faithin it, so she put her love away in a corner of her heart, and tried toforget it, hoping it would either die, or have a right to live. It didn't make her very miserable, because patience, work, and common-senselent her a hand, and hope would keep popping up its bright face from thebottom of her Pandora-box of troubles. Now and then, when any one saidTrix would n't jilt Tom, or that Tom did care for Trix more than heshould, Polly had a pang, and thought she could n't possibly bear it.But she always found she could, and so came to the conclusion that itwas a merciful provision of nature that girls' hearts could standso much, and their appetites continue good, when unrequited love wasstarving.
Now, she could not help yearning over this faulty, well-belovedscapegrace Tom, or help thinking, with a little thrill of hope, "If Trixonly cared for his money, she may cast him off now he's lost it; but I'll love him all the better because he's poor." With this feeling warmat her heart, I don't wonder that Polly's hand had a soothing effect,and that after a heave or two, Tom's shoulders were quiet, and certainsmothered sniffs suggested that he would be all right again, if he couldonly wipe his eyes without any one's seeing him do it.
Polly seemed to divine his wish, and tucking a little, cleanhandkerchief into one of his half-open hands, she said, "I'm going toyour father, now," and with a farewell smooth, so comforting that Tomwished she'd do it again, she went away.
As she paused a minute in the hall to steady herself, Maud called herfrom above, and thinking that the women might need her more than themen, she ran up to find Fanny waiting for her in her own room.
"Mamma's asleep, quite worn out, poor dear, so we can talk in herewithout troubling her," said Fanny, receiving her friend so quietly,that Polly was amazed.
"Let me come, too, I won't make any fuss; it's so dreadful to be shutout everywhere, and have people crying and talking, and locked up, and Inot know what it means," said Maud, beseechingly.
"You do know, now; I've told her, Polly," said Fan, as they sat downtogether, and Maud perched herself on the bed, so that she might retireamong the pillows if her feelings were too much for her.
"I'm glad you take it so well, dear; I was afraid it might upset you,"said Polly, seeing now that in spite of her quiet manner, Fan's eyes hadan excited look, and her cheeks a feverish color.
"I shall groan and moan by and by, I dare say, but at first it sort ofdazed me, and now it begin
s to excite me. I ought to be full of sorrowfor poor papa, and I am truly sorry, but, wicked as it may seem, it's afact, Polly, that I'm half glad it's happened, for it takes me out ofmyself, and gives me something to do."
Fanny's eyes fell and her color rose as she spoke, but Polly understoodwhy she wanted to forget herself, and put her arm round her with a moretender sympathy than Fanny guessed.
"Perhaps things are not as bad as they seem; I don't know much aboutsuch matters, but I've seen people who have failed, and they seemedjust as comfortable as before," said Polly.
"It won't be so with us, for papa means to give up everything, and nothave a word said against him. Mamma's little property is settled uponher, and has n't been risked. That touched her so much! She dreadspoverty even more than I do, but she begged him to take it if it wouldhelp him. That pleased him, but he said nothing would induce him todo it, for it would n't help much, and was hardly enough to keep hercomfortable."
"Do you know what he means to do?" asked Polly, anxiously.
"He said his plans were not made, but he meant to go into the littlehouse that belonged to grandma, as soon as he could, for it was n'thonest for a bankrupt to keep up an establishment like this."
"I shan't mind that at all, I like the little house'cause it's got agarden, and there's a cunning room with a three-cornered closet in itthat I always wanted. If that's all, I don't think bankrupting is sovery bad," said Maud, taking a cheerful view of things.
"Ah, just wait till the carriage goes and the nice clothes and theservants, and we have to scratch along as we can. You'll changeyour mind then, poor child," said Fanny, whose ideas of failure weredecidedly tragical.
"Will they take all my things away?" cried Maud, in dismay.
"I dare say; I don't know what we are allowed to keep; but not much,I fancy," and Fan looked as if strung up to sacrifice everything shepossessed.
"They shan't have my new ear-rings, I'll hide'em, and my best dress,and my gold smelling bottle. Oh, oh, oh! I think it's mean to take alittle girl's things away!" And Maud dived among the pillows to smothera wail of anguish at the prospect of being bereft of her treasures.
Polly soon lured her out again, by assurances that she would n't beutterly despoiled, and promises to try and soften the hard hearts ofher father's creditors, if the ear-rings and the smelling-bottle wereattached.
"I wonder if we shall be able to keep one servant, just till we learnhow to do the work," said Fanny, looking at her white hands, with asigh.
But Maud clapped hers, and gave a joyful bounce, as she cried, "Now Ican learn to cook! I love so to beat eggs! I'll have an apron, witha bib to it, like Polly's, and a feather duster, and sweep the stairs,maybe, with my head tied up, like Katy. Oh, what fun!"
"Don't laugh at her, or discourage her; let her find comfort in bibs anddust-pans, if she can," whispered Polly to Fan, while Maud took a joyful"header" among the pillows, and came up smiling and blowzy, for sheloved house-work, and often got lectured for stolen visits to thekitchen, and surreptitious sweepings and dustings when the coast wasclear.
"Mamma is so feeble, I shall have to keep house, I suppose, and you mustshow me how, Polly," said Fan.
"Good practice, ma'am, as you'll find out some day," answered Polly,laughing significantly.
Fanny smiled, then grew both grave and sad. "This changes everything;the old set will drop me, as we did the Mertons when their fatherfailed, and my'prospects,' as we say, are quite ruined."
"I don't believe it; your real friends won't drop you, and you'll findout which the true ones are now. I know one friend who will be kinderthan ever."
"Oh, Polly, do you think so?" and Fanny's eyes softened with suddentears.
"I know who she means," cried Maud, always eager to find out things. "It's herself; Polly won't mind if we are poor,'cause she likes beggars."
"Is that who you meant?" asked Fan, wistfully.
"No, it's a much better and dearer friend than I am," said Polly,pinching Fanny's cheek, as it reddened prettily under her eyes. "You'llnever guess, Maud, so I would n't try, but be planning what you will putin your cunning, three-cornered closet, when you get it."
Having got rid of "Miss Paulina Pry," as Tom called Maud, who wasimmediately absorbed by her cupboard, the older girls soberly discussedthe sudden change which had come, and Polly was surprised to see whatunexpected strength and sense Fanny showed. Polly was too unconsciousof the change which love had made in herself to understand at first thecause of her friend's new patience and fortitude; but she rejoiced overit, and felt that her prophecy would yet be fulfilled. Presently Maudemerged from her new closet, bringing a somewhat startling idea withher.
"Do bankrupting men" (Maud liked that new word) "always have fits?"
"Mercy, no! What put that into your head, child?" cried Polly.
"Why, Mr. Merton did; and I was thinking perhaps papa had got one downthere, and it kind of frightened me."
"Mr. Merton's was a bad, disgraceful failure, and I don't wonder he hada fit. Ours is n't, and papa won't do anything of that sort, you may besure," said Fanny, with as proud an air as if "our failure" was ratheran honor than otherwise.
"Don't you think you and Maud had better go down and see him?" askedPolly.
"Perhaps he would n't like it; and I don't know what to say, either,"began Fan; but Polly said, eagerly, "I know he would like it. Never mindwhat you say; just go, and show him that you don't doubt or blame himfor this, but love him all the more, and are ready and glad to help himbear the trouble."
"I'm going, I ain't afraid; I'll just hug him, and say I'm ever soglad we are going to the little house," cried Maud, scrambling off thebed, and running down stairs.
"Come with me, Polly, and tell me what to do," said Fanny, drawing herfriend after her.
"You'll know what to do when you see him, better than I can tell you,"answered Polly, readily yielding, for she knew they considered her"quite one of the family," as Tom said.
At the study door they found Maud, whose courage had given out, for Mr.Merton's fit rather haunted her. Polly opened the door; and the minuteFanny saw her father, she did know what to do. The fire was low, the gasdim, and Mr. Shaw was sitting in his easy-chair, his gray head in bothhis hands, looking lonely, old, and bowed down with care. Fanny gavePolly one look, then went and took the gray head in both her arms,saying, with a tender quiver in her voice, "Father dear, we've come tohelp you bear it."
Mr. Shaw looked up, and seeing in his daughter's face something thatnever had been there before, put his arm about her, and leaned histired head against her, as if, when least expected, he had found theconsolation he most needed. In that minute, Fanny felt, with mingled joyand self-reproach, what a daughter might be to her father; and Polly,thinking of feeble, selfish Mrs. Shaw, asleep up stairs, saw withsudden clearness what a wife should be to her husband, a helpmeet, nota burden. Touched by these unusual demonstrations, Maud crept quietlyto her father's knee, and whispered, with a great tear shining on herlittle pug nose, "Papa, we don't mind it much, and I'm going to helpFan keep house for you; I'd like to do it, truly."
Mr. Shaw's other arm went round the child, and for a minute no one saidanything, for Polly had slipped behind his chair, that nothing shoulddisturb the three, who were learning from misfortune how much they lovedone another. Presently Mr. Shaw steadied himself and asked, "Where is myother daughter, where's my Polly?"
She was there at once; gave him one of the quiet kisses that had morethan usual tenderness in it, for she loved to hear him say "my otherdaughter," and then she whispered, "Don't you want Tom, too?"
"Of course I do; where is the poor fellow?"
"I'll bring him;" and Polly departed with most obliging alacrity.
But in the hall she paused a minute to peep into the glass and see ifshe was all right, for somehow she was more anxious to look neat andpretty to Tom in his hour of trouble than she had ever been in hisprosperous days. In lifting her arms to perk up the bow at her throatshe knocked a hat off th
e bracket. Now, a shiny black beaver is not anobject exactly calculated to inspire tender or romantic sentiments, onewould fancy, but that particular "stove pipe" seemed to touch Polly tothe heart, for she caught it up, as if its fall suggested a greater one,smoothed out a slight dint, as if it was symbolical of the hard knocksits owner's head was now in danger of receiving, and stood looking atit with as much pity and respect, as if it had been the crown of adisinherited prince. Girls will do such foolish little things, andthough we laugh at them, I think we like them the better for it, afterall.
Richard was himself again when Polly entered, for the handkerchief haddisappeared, his head was erect, his face was steady, and his wholeair had a dogged composure which seemed to say to fate, "Hit away, I'mready." He did not hear Polly come in, for he was looking fixedly atthe fire with eyes that evidently saw a very different future therefrom that which it used to show him; but when she said, "Tom, dear, yourfather wants you," he got up at once, held out his hand to her, saying,"Come too, we can't get on without you," and took her back into thestudy with him.
Then they had a long talk, for the family troubles seemed to warm andstrengthen the family affection and confidence, and as the young peoplelistened while Mr. Shaw told them as much of his business perplexitiesas they could understand, every one of them blamed him or herself forgoing on so gayly and blindly, while the storm was gathering, and thepoor man was left to meet it all alone. Now, however, the thunder-claphad come, and after the first alarm, finding they were not killed, theybegan to discover a certain half-anxious, half-pleasant excitementin talking it over, encouraging one another, and feeling unusuallyfriendly, as people do when a sudden shower drives two or three to theshelter of one umbrella.
It was a sober talk, but not all sad, for Mr. Shaw felt inexpressiblycomforted by his children's unexpected sympathy, and they, trying totake the downfall cheerfully for his sake, found it easier to bearthemselves. They even laughed occasionally, for the girls, in theirignorance, asked queer questions; Tom made ludicrously unbusiness-likepropositions; and Maud gave them one hearty peal, that did a world ofgood, by pensively remarking, when the plans for the future had beenexplained to her, "I'm so relieved; for when papa said we must give upeverything, and mamma called us all beggars, I did think I'd got to goround asking for cold vittles, with a big basket, and an old shawl overmy head. I said once I'd like that, but I'm afraid I should n't, for Ican't bear Indian cake and cold potatoes, that's what the poor childrenalways seem to get, and I should hate to have Grace and the rest see mescuffing round the back gates."
"My little girl shall never come to that, if I can help it," said Mr.Shaw, holding her close, with a look that made Maud add, as she laid hercheek against his own, "But I'd do it, father, if you asked me to, forI truly want to help."
"So do I!" cried Fanny, wondering at the same minute how it would seemto wear turned silks, and clean her gloves.
Tom said nothing, but drew toward him a paper of figures which hisfather had drawn up, and speedily reduced himself to the verge ofdistraction by trying to understand them, in his ardent desire to provehis willingness to put his shoulder to the wheel.
"We shall pull through, children, so don't borrow trouble, only be readyfor discomforts and annoyances. Put your pride in your pockets, andremember poverty is n't disgraceful, but dishonesty is."
Polly had always loved kind Mr. Shaw, but now she respected himheartily, and felt that she had not done him justice when she sometimesthought that he only cared for making money.
"I should n't wonder if this was a good thing for the whole family,though it don't look so. Mrs. Shaw will take it the hardest, but it maystir her up, so she will forget her nerves, and be as busy and happy asmother is," said Polly to herself, in a hopeful mood, for poverty was anold friend, and she had learned long ago not to fear it, but to take itsbitter and its sweet, and make the best of both.
When they parted for the night, Polly slipped away first, to leave themfree, yet could n't help lingering outside to see how tenderly the girlsparted from their father. Tom had n't a word to say for himself, for mendon't kiss, caress, or cry when they feel most, and all he could do toexpress his sympathy and penitence, was to wring his father's hand witha face full of respect, regret, and affection, and then bolt up stairsas if the furies were after him, as they were, in a mild and modernform.