CHAPTER XVII. PLAYING GRANDMOTHER
I THINK Tom had the hardest time of all, for besides the familytroubles, he had many of his own to perplex and harass him. Collegescrapes were soon forgotten in greater afflictions; but there wereplenty of tongues to blame "that extravagant dog," and plenty of headsto wag ominously over prophecies of the good time Tom Shaw would nowmake on the road to ruin. As reporters flourish in this country, ofcourse Tom soon heard all the friendly criticisms passed upon him andhis career, and he suffered more than anybody guessed; for the truththat was at the bottom of the gossip filled him with the sharp regretand impotent wrath against himself as well as others, which drives manya proud fellow, so placed, to destruction, or the effort that redeemsboyish folly, and makes a man of him.
Now that he had lost his heritage, Tom seemed to see for the firsttime how goodly it had been, how rich in power, pleasure, and graciousopportunities. He felt its worth even while he acknowledged, with thesense of justice that is strong in manly men, how little he deserveda gift which he had so misused. He brooded over this a good deal, for,like the bat in the fable, he did n't seem to find any place in the newlife which had begun for all. Knowing nothing of business, he was notof much use to his father, though he tried to be, and generally endedby feeling that he was a hindrance, not a help. Domestic affairs wereequally out of his line, and the girls, more frank than their father,did not hesitate to tell him he was in the way when he offered to lenda hand anywhere. After the first excitement was over, and he had time tothink, heart and energy seemed to die out, remorse got hold of him, and,as generous, thoughtless natures are apt to do when suddenly confrontedwith conscience, he exaggerated his faults and follies into sins of thedeepest dye, and fancied he was regarded by others as a villain and anoutcast. Pride and penitence made him shrink out of sight as much aspossible, for he could not bear pity, even when silently expressed by afriendly hand or a kindly eye. He stayed at home a good deal, and loafedabout with a melancholy and neglected air, vanished when anyone came,talked very little, and was either pathetically humble or tragicallycross. He wanted to do something, but nothing seemed to appear; andwhile he waited to get his poise after the downfall, he was so verymiserable that I'm afraid, if it had not been for one thing, my poorTom would have got desperate, and been a failure. But when he seemedmost useless, outcast, and forlorn, he discovered that one person neededhim, one person never found him in the way, one person always welcomedand clung to him with the strongest affection of a very feeble nature.This dependence of his mother's was Tom's salvation at that crisis ofhis life; and the gossips, who said softly to one another over theirmuffins and tea. "It really would be a relief to that whole family ifpoor, dear Mrs. Shaw could be ahem! mercifully removed," did not knowthat the invalid's weak, idle hands were unconsciously keeping the sonsafe in that quiet room, where she gave him all that she had to give,mother-love, till he took heart again, and faced the world ready tofight his battles manfully.
"Dear, dear! how old and bent poor father does look. I hope he won'tforget to order my sweetbread," sighed Mrs. Shaw one day, as she watchedher husband slowly going down the street.
Tom, who stood by her, idly spinning the curtain tassel, followed thefamiliar figure with his eye, and seeing how gray the hair had grown,how careworn the florid face, and how like a weary old man his oncestrong, handsome father walked, he was smitten by a new pang ofself-reproach, and with his usual impetuosity set about repairing theomission as soon as he discovered it.
"I'll see to your sweetbread, mum. Good-by, back to dinner," and with ahasty kiss, Tom was off.
He did n't know exactly what he meant to do, but it had suddenly comeover him, that he was hiding from the storm, and letting his fathermeet it alone; for the old man went to his office every day with theregularity of a machine, that would go its usual round until it stopped,while the young man stayed at home with the women, and let his mothercomfort him.
"He has a right to be ashamed of me, but I act as if I was ashamed ofhim; dare say people think so. I'll show them that I ain't; yes, by thepowers, I will!" and Tom drew on his gloves with the air of a man aboutto meet and conquer an enemy.
"Have an arm, sir? If you don't mind I'll walk down with you. Littlecommission for mother, nice day, is n't it?"
Tom rather broke down at the end of his speech, for the look of pleasedsurprise with which his father greeted him, the alacrity with which heaccepted and leaned on the strong arm offered him, proved that thedaily walks had been solitary and doubtless sad ones. I think Mr. Shawunderstood the real meaning of that little act of respect, and feltbetter for the hopeful change it seemed to foretell. But he took itquietly, and leaving his face to speak for him, merely said, "Thanky,Tom; yes, mother will enjoy her dinner twice as much if you order it."
Then they began to talk business with all their might, as if they fearedthat some trace of sentiment might disgrace their masculine dignity. Butit made no difference whether they discussed lawsuits or love, mortgagesor mothers, the feeling was all right and they knew it, so Mr. Shawwalked straighter than usual, and Tom felt that he was in his properplace again. The walk was not without its trials, however; for while itdid Tom's heart good to see the cordial respect paid to his father,it tried his patience sorely to see also inquisitive or disapprovingglances fixed upon himself when hats were lifted to his father, andto hear the hearty "Good day, Mr. Shaw," drop into a cool or careless,"That's the son; it's hard on him. Wild fellow, do him good."
"Granted; but you need n't hit a man when he's down," muttered Tom tohimself, feeling every moment a stronger desire to do something thatshould silence everybody. "I'd cut away to Australia if it was n't formother; anything, anywhere to get out of the way of people who know me.I never can right myself here, with all the fellows watching, and layingwagers whether I sink or swim. Hang Greek and Latin! wish I'd learneda trade, and had something to fall back upon. Have n't a blessed thingnow, but decent French and my fists. Wonder if old Bell don't wanta clerk for the Paris branch of the business? That would n't be bad;faith, I'll try it."
And when Tom had landed his father safely at the office, to the greatedification of all beholders, he screwed up his courage, and went toprefer his request, feeling that the prospect brightened a little. ButMr. Bell was not in a good humor, and only gave Tom a severe lecture onthe error of his ways, which sent him home much depressed, and causedthe horizon to lower again.
As he roamed about the house that afternoon, trying to calculate howmuch an Australian outfit would cost, the sound of lively voices andclattering spoons attracted him to the kitchen. There he foundPolly giving Maud lessons in cookery; for the "new help" not being ahigh-priced article, could not be depended on for desserts, and Mrs.Shaw would have felt as if the wolf was at the door if there was not "asweet dish" at dinner. Maud had a genius for cooking, and Fanny hatedit, so that little person was in her glory, studying receipt books, andtaking lessons whenever Polly could give them.
"Gracious me, Tom, don't come now; we are awful busy! Men don't belongin kitchens," cried Maud, as her brother appeared in the doorway.
"Could n't think what you were about. Mum is asleep, and Fan out, so Iloafed down to see if there was any fun afoot," said Tom, lingering, asif the prospect was agreeable. He was a social fellow, and very gratefuljust then to any one who helped him to forget his worries for a time.Polly knew this, felt that his society would not be a great afflictionto herself at least, and whispering to Maud, "He won't know," she added,aloud, "Come in if you like, and stir this cake for me; it needs astrong hand, and mine are tired. There, put on that apron to keep youtidy, sit here, and take it easy."
"I used to help grandma bat up cake, and rather liked it, if I rememberright," said Tom, letting Polly tie a checked apron on him, put a bigbowl into his hands, and settle him near the table, where Maudwas picking raisins, and she herself stirring busily about amongspice-boxes, rolling-pins, and butter-pots.
"You do it beautifully, Tom. I'll give you a conundrum to li
ghten yourlabor: Why are bad boys like cake?" asked Polly, anxious to cheer himup.
"Because a good beating makes them better. I doubt that myself, though,"answered Tom, nearly knocking the bottom of the bowl out with hisenergetic demonstrations, for it really was a relief to do something.
"Bright boy! here's a plum for you," and Polly threw a plump raisininto his mouth.
"Put in lots, won't you? I'm rather fond of plum-cake," observedTom, likening himself to Hercules with the distaff, and finding hisemployment pleasant, if not classical.
"I always do, if I can; there's nothing I like better than to shovel insugar and spice, and make nice, plummy cake for people. It's one of thefew things I have a gift for."
"You've hit it this time, Polly; you certainly have a gift for puttinga good deal of both articles into your own and other people's lives,which is lucky, as, we all have to eat that sort of cake, whether welike it or not," observed Tom, so soberly that Polly opened her eyes,and Maud exclaimed, "I do believe he's preaching."
"Feel as if I could sometimes," continued Tom; then his eye fell uponthe dimples in Polly's elbows, and he added, with a laugh, "That's morein your line, ma'am; can't you give us a sermon?"
"A short one. Life, my brethren, is like plum-cake," began Polly,impressively folding her floury hands. "In some the plums are all onthe top, and we eat them gayly, till we suddenly find they are gone. Inothers the plums sink to the bottom, and we look for them in vain as wego on, and often come to them when it is too late to enjoy them. Butin the well-made cake, the plums are wisely scattered all through, andevery mouthful is a pleasure. We make our own cakes, in a great measure,therefore let us look to it, my brethren, that they are mixed accordingto the best receipt, baked in a well regulated oven, and gratefullyeaten with a temperate appetite."
"Good! good!" cried Tom, applauding with the wooden spoon. "That's amodel sermon, Polly, short, sweet, sensible, and not a bit sleepy. I'mone of your parish, and will see that you get your'celery punctooal,'as old Deacon Morse used to say."
"'Thank you, brother, my wants is few, and ravens scurser than they usedto be,' as dear old Parson Miller used to answer. Now, Maud, bring onthe citron;" and Polly began to put the cake together in what seemeda most careless and chaotic manner, while Tom and Maud watched withabsorbing interest till it was safely in the oven.
"Now make your custards, dear; Tom may like to beat the eggs for you; itseems to have a good effect upon his constitution."
"First-rate; hand'em along," and Tom smoothed his apron with a cheerfulair. "By the way, Syd's got back. I met him yesterday, and he treated melike a man and a brother," he added, as if anxious to contribute to thepleasures of the hour.
"I'm so glad!" cried Polly, clapping her hands, regardless of the eggshe held, which dropped and smashed on the floor at her feet. "Carelessthing! Pick it up, Maud, I'll get some more;" and Polly whisked out ofthe room, glad of an excuse to run and tell Fan, who had just comein, lest, hearing the news in public, she might be startled out of thewell-bred composure with which young ladies are expected to receivetidings, even of the most vital importance.
"You know all about history, don't you?" asked Maud, suddenly.
"Not quite," modestly answered Tom.
"I just want to know if there really was a man named Sir Philip, in thetime of Queen Elizabeth."
"You mean Sir Philip Sidney? Yes, he lived then and a fine old fellow hewas too."
"There; I knew the girls did n't mean him," cried Maud, with a chop thatsent the citron flying.
"What mischief are you up to now, you little magpie?"
"I shan't tell you what they said, because I don't remember much of it;but I heard Polly and Fan talking about some one dreadful mysterious,and when I asked who it was, Fan said,'Sir Philip.' Ho! she need n'tthink I believe it! I saw'em laugh, and blush, and poke one another,and I knew it was n't about any old Queen Elizabeth man," cried Maud,turning up her nose as far as that somewhat limited feature would go.
"Look here, you are letting cats out of the bag. Never mind, I thoughtso. They don't tell us their secrets, but we are so sharp, we can't helpfinding them out, can we?" said Tom, looking so much interested, thatMaud could n't resist airing her knowledge a little.
"Well, I dare say, it is n't proper for you to know, but I am old enoughnow to be told anything, and those girls better mind what they say, forI'm not a stupid chit, like Blanche. I just wish you could have heardthem go on. I'm sure there's something very nice about Mr. Sydney,they looked so pleased when they whispered and giggled on the bed, andthought I was ripping bonnets, and did n't hear a word."
"Which looked most pleased?" asked Tom, investigating the kitchen boilerwith deep interest.
"Well,'pears to me Polly did; she talked most, and looked funny andvery happy all the time. Fan laughed a good deal, but I guess Polly isthe loveress," replied Maud, after a moment's reflection.
"Hold your tongue; she's coming!" and Tom began to pump as if the housewas on fire.
Down came Polly, with heightened color, bright eyes, and not a singleegg. Tom took a quick look at her over his shoulder, and paused as ifthe fire was suddenly extinguished. Something in his face made Pollyfeel a little guilty, so she fell to grating nutmeg, with a vigor whichmade red cheeks the most natural thing in life. Maud, the traitor, satdemurely at work, looking very like what Tom had called her, a magpiewith mischief in its head. Polly felt a change in the atmosphere, butmerely thought Tom was tired, so she graciously dismissed him with astick of cinnamon, as she had nothing else just then to lay upon theshrine. "Fan's got the books and maps you wanted. Go and rest now. I'mmuch obliged; here's your wages, Bridget."
"Good luck to your messes," answered Tom, as he walked away meditativelycrunching his cinnamon, and looking as if he did not find it as spicy asusual. He got his books, but did not read them; for, shutting himself upin the little room called "Tom's den," he just sat down and brooded.
When he came down to breakfast the next morning, he was greeted witha general "Happy birthday, Tom!" and at his place lay gifts from everymember of the family; not as costly as formerly, perhaps, but infinitelydearer, as tokens of the love that had outlived the change, and onlygrown the warmer for the test of misfortune. In his present state ofmind, Tom felt as if he did not deserve a blessed thing; so when everyone exerted themselves to make it a happy day for him, he understoodwhat it means "to be nearly killed with kindness," and sternly resolvedto be an honor to his family, or perish in the attempt. Evening broughtPolly to what she called a "festive tea," and when they gathered roundthe table, another gift appeared, which, though not of a sentimentalnature, touched Tom more than all the rest. It was a most delectablecake, with a nosegay atop, and round it on the snowy frosting thereran a pink inscription, just as it had been every year since Tom couldremember.
"Name, age, and date, like a nice white tombstone," observed Maud,complacently, at which funereal remark, Mrs. Shaw, who was down in honorof the day, dropped her napkin, and demanded her salts.
"Whose doing is that?" asked Tom, surveying the gift with satisfaction;for it recalled the happier birthdays, which seemed very far away now.
"I did n't know what to give you, for you've got everything a manwants, and I was in despair till I remembered that dear grandma alwaysmade you a little cake like that, and that you once said it would n't bea happy birthday without it. So I tried to make it just like hers, and Ido hope it will prove a good, sweet, plummy one."
"Thank you," was all Tom said, as he smiled at the giver, but Polly knewthat her present had pleased him more than the most elegant trifle shecould have made.
"It ought to be good, for you beat it up yourself, Tom," cried, Maud."It was so funny to see you working away, and never guessing who thecake was for. I perfectly trembled every time you opened your mouth,for fear you'd ask some question about it. That was the reason Pollypreached and I kept talking when she was gone."
"Very stupid of me; but I forgot all about to-day. Suppose we cut it;I d
on't seem to care for anything else," said Tom, feeling no appetite,but bound to do justice to that cake, if he fell a victim to hisgratitude.
"I hope the plums won't all be at the bottom," said Polly, as she roseto do the honors of the cake, by universal appointment.
"I've had a good many at the top already, you know," answered Tom,watching the operation with as much interest as if he had faith in theomen.
Cutting carefully, slice after slice fell apart; each firm and dark,spicy and rich, under the frosty rime above; and laying a speciallylarge piece in one of grandma's quaint little china plates, Polly addedthe flowers and handed it to Tom, with a look that said a good deal,for, seeing that he remembered her sermon, she was glad to find that herallegory held good, in one sense at least. Tom's face brightened as hetook it, and after an inspection which amused the others very much helooked up, saying, with an air of relief, "Plums all through; I'm gladI had a hand in it, but Polly deserves the credit, and must wear theposy," and turning to her, he put the rose into her hair with moregallantry than taste, for a thorn pricked her head, the leaves tickledher ear, and the flower was upside down.
Fanny laughed at his want of skill, but Polly would n't have it altered,and everybody fell to eating cake, as if indigestion was one of the lostarts. They had a lively tea, and were getting on famously afterward,when two letters were brought for Tom, who glanced at one, and retiredrather precipitately to his den, leaving Maud consumed with curiosity,and the older girls slightly excited, for Fan thought she recognized thehandwriting on one, and Polly, on the other.
One half an hour and then another elapsed, and Tom did not return. Mr.Shaw went out, Mrs. Shaw retired to her room escorted by Maud, and thetwo girls sat together wondering if anything dreadful had happened. Allof a sudden a voice called, "Polly!" and that young lady started out ofher chair, as if the sound had been a thunder-clap.
"Do run! I'm perfectly fainting to know what the matter is," said Fan.
"You'd better go," began Polly, wishing to obey, yet feeling a littleshy.
"He don't want me; besides, I could n't say a word for myself if thatletter was from Sydney," cried Fanny, hustling her friend towards thedoor, in a great flutter.
Polly went without another word, but she wore a curiously anxious look,and stopped on the threshold of the den, as if a little afraid of itsoccupant. Tom was sitting in his favorite attitude, astride of a chair,with his arms folded and his chin on the top rail; not an elegantposture, but the only one in which, he said, he could think well.
"Did you want me, Tom?"
"Yes. Come in, please, and don't look scared; I only want to show you apresent I've had, and ask your advice about accepting it."
"Why, Tom, you look as if you had been knocked down!" exclaimed Polly,forgetting all about herself, as she saw his face when he rose andturned to meet her.
"I have; regularly floored; but I'm up again, and steadier than ever.Just you read that, and tell me what you think of it."
Tom snatched a letter off the table, put it into her hands, and began towalk up and down the little room, like a veritable bear in its cage. AsPolly read that short note, all the color went out of her face, and hereyes began to kindle. When she came to the end, she stood a minute, asif too indignant to speak, then gave the paper a nervous sort of crumpleand dropped it on the floor, saying, all in one breath, "I think she isa mercenary, heartless, ungrateful girl! That's what I think."
"Oh, the deuce! I did n't mean to show that one; it's the other." AndTom took up a second paper, looking half angry, half ashamed at hisown mistake. "I don't care, though; every one will know to-morrow; andperhaps you'll be good enough to keep the girls from bothering mewith questions and gabble," he added, as if, on second thoughts, he wasrelieved to have the communication made to Polly first.
"I don't wonder you looked upset. If the other letter is as bad, I'dbetter have a chair before I read it," said Polly, feeling that shebegan to tremble with excitement.
"It's a million times better, but it knocked me worse than the other;kindness always does." Tom stopped short there, and stood a minuteturning the letter about in his hand as if it contained a sweet whichneutralized the bitter in that smaller note, and touched him very much.Then he drew up an arm-chair, and beckoning Polly to take it, said ina sober, steady tone, that surprised her greatly, "Whenever I was in aquandary, I used to go and consult grandma, and she always had somethingsensible or comfortable to say to me. She's gone now, but somehow,Polly, you seem to take her place. Would you mind sitting in her chair,and letting me tell you two or three things, as Will does?"
Mind it? Polly felt that Tom had paid her the highest and most beautifulcompliment he could have devised. She had often longed to do it, for,being brought up in the most affectionate and frank relations with herbrothers, she had early learned what it takes most women some time todiscover, that sex does not make nearly as much difference in hearts andsouls as we fancy. Joy and sorrow, love and fear, life and deathbring so many of the same needs to all, that the wonder is we do notunderstand each other better, but wait till times of tribulation teachus that human nature is very much the same in men and women. Thanks tothis knowledge, Polly understood Tom in a way that surprised and wonhim. She knew that he wanted womanly sympathy, and that she could giveit to him, because she was not afraid to stretch her hand across thebarrier which our artificial education puts between boys and girls, andto say to him in all good faith, "If I can help you, let me."
Ten minutes sooner Polly could have done this almost as easily to Tom asto Will, but in that ten minutes something had happened which made thisdifficult. Reading that Trix had given Tom back his freedom changed manythings to Polly, and caused her to shrink from his confidence, becauseshe felt as if it would be harder now to keep self out of sight; for,spite of maiden modesty, love and hope would wake and sing at the goodnews. Slowly she sat down, and hesitatingly she said, with her eyes onthe ground, and a very humble voice, "I'll do my best, but I can't fillgrandma's place, or give you any wise, good advice. I wish I could!"
"You'll do it better than any one else. Talk troubles mother, fatherhas enough to think of without any of my worries. Fan is a good soul,but she is n't practical, and we always get into a snarl if we try towork together, so who have I but my other sister, Polly? The pleasurethat letter will give you may make up for my boring you."
As he spoke, Tom laid the other paper in her lap, and went off to thewindow, as if to leave her free to enjoy it unseen; but he could nothelp a glance now and then, and as Polly's face brightened, his ownfell.
"Oh, Tom, that's a birthday present worth having, for it's sobeautifully given I don't see how you can refuse it. Arthur Sydney is areal nobleman!" cried Polly, looking up at last, with her fact glowing,and her eyes full of delight.
"So he is! I don't know another man living, except father, who wouldhave done such a thing, or who I could bring myself to take it from. Doyou see, he's not only paid the confounded debts, but has done it in myname, to spare me all he could?"
"I see, it's like him; and I think he must be very happy to be able todo such a thing."
"It is an immense weight off my shoulders, for some of those men couldn't afford to wait till I'd begged, borrowed, or earned the money.Sydney can wait, but he won't long, if I know myself." "You won't takeit as a gift, then?"
"Would you?"
"No."
"Then don't think I will. I'm a pretty poor affair, Polly, but I'mnot mean enough to do that, while I've got a conscience and a pair ofhands."
A rough speech, but it pleased Polly better than the smoothest Tom hadever made in her hearing, for something in his face and voice told herthat the friendly act had roused a nobler sentiment than gratitude,making the cancelled obligations of the boy, debts of honor to the man.
"What will you do, Tom?"
"I'll tell you; may I sit here?" And Tom took the low footstool thatalways stood near grandma's old chair. "I've had so many plans in myhead lately, that sometimes it seems as
if it would split," continuedthe poor fellow, rubbing his tired forehead, as if to polish up hiswits. "I've thought seriously of going to California, Australia, orsome out-of-the-way place, where men get rich in a hurry."
"Oh, no!" cried Polly, putting out her hand as it to keep him, and thensnatching it back again before he could turn round.
"It would be hard on mother and the girls, I suppose; besides, I don'tquite like it myself; looks as if I shirked and ran away."
"So it does," said Polly, decidedly.
"Well, you see I don't seem to find anything to do unless I turn clerk,and I don't think that would suit. The fact is, I could n't standit here, where I'm known. It would be easier to scratch gravel on arailroad, with a gang of Paddies, than to sell pins to my friends andneighbors. False pride, I dare say, but it's the truth, and there's nouse in dodging."
"Not a bit, and I quite agree with you."
"That's comfortable. Now I'm coming to the point where I speciallywant your advice, Polly. Yesterday I heard you telling Fan about yourbrother Ned; how well he got on; how he liked his business, and wantedWill to come and take some place near him. You thought I was reading,but I heard; and it struck me that perhaps I could get a chance out Westsomewhere. What do you think?"
"If you really mean work, I know you could," answered Polly, quickly, asall sorts of plans and projects went sweeping through her mind. "I wishyou could be with Ned; you'd get on together, I'm sure; and he'd beso glad to do anything he could. I'll write and ask, straight away, ifyou want me to."
"Suppose you do; just for information, you know, then I shall havesomething to go upon. I want to have a feasible plan all ready, beforeI speak to father. There's nothing so convincing to business men asfacts, you know."
Polly could not help smiling at Tom's new tone, it seemed so strangeto hear him talking about anything but horses and tailors, dancing andgirls. She liked it, however, as much as she did the sober expression ofhis face, and the way he had lately of swinging his arms about, as if hewanted to do something energetic with them.
"That will be wise. Do you think your father will like this plan?"
"Pretty sure he will. Yesterday, when I told him I must go at somethingright off, he said, 'Anything honest, Tom, and don't forget that yourfather began the world as a shop-boy.' You knew that, did n't you?"
"Yes, he told me the story once, and I always liked to hear it, becauseit was pleasant to see how well he had succeeded."
"I never did like the story, a little bit ashamed, I'm afraid; butwhen we talked it over last night, it struck me in a new light, and Iunderstood why father took the failure so well, and seems so contentedwith this poorish place. It is only beginning again, he says; and havingworked his way up once, he feels as if he could again. I declare to you,Polly, that sort of confidence in himself, and energy and courage in aman of his years, makes me love and respect the dear old gentleman as Inever did before."
"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Tom! I've sometimes thought you didn't quite appreciate your father, any more than he knew how much of aman you were."
"Never was till to-day, you know," said Tom, laughing, yet looking asif he felt the dignity of his one and twenty years. "Odd, is n't it, howpeople live together ever so long, and don't seem to find one anotherout, till something comes to do it for them. Perhaps this smash-up wassent to introduce me to my own father."
"There's philosophy for you," said Polly, smiling, even while she feltas if adversity was going to do more for Tom than years of prosperity.
They both sat quiet for a minute, Polly in the big chair looking at himwith a new respect in her eyes, Tom on the stool near by slowly tearingup a folded paper he had absently taken from the floor while he talked.
"Did this surprise you?" he asked, as a little white shower flutteredfrom his hands.
"No."
"Well, it did me; for you know as soon as we came to grief I offered torelease Trix from the engagement, and she would n't let me," continuedTom, as if, having begun the subject, he wished to explain itthoroughly.
"That surprised me," said Polly.
"So it did me, for Fan always insisted it was the money and not theman she cared for. Her first answer pleased me very much, for I did notexpect it, and nothing touches a fellow more than to have a woman standby him through thick and thin."
"She don't seem to have done it."
"Fan was right. Trix only waited to see how bad things really were, orrather her mother did. She's as cool, hard, and worldly minded an oldsoul as I ever saw, and Trix is bound to obey. She gets round it veryneatly in her note, 'I won't be a burden,''will sacrifice her hopes,''and always remain my warm friend,' but the truth is, Tom Shaw rich wasworth making much of, but Tom Shaw poor is in the way, and may go to thedevil as fast as he likes."
"Well, he is n't going!" cried Polly, defiantly, for her wrath burnedhotly against Trix, though she blessed her for setting the bondman free.
"Came within an ace of it," muttered Tom to himself; adding aloud, ina tone of calm resignation that assured Polly his heart would notbe broken though his engagement was, "It never rains but it pours,'specially in hard times, but when a man is down, a rap or two moredon't matter much, I suppose. It's the first blow that hurts most."
"Glad to see you take the last blow so well." There was an ironicallittle twang to that speech, and Polly could n't help it. Tom colored upand looked hurt for a minute, then seemed to right himself with a shrug,and said, in his outspoken way, "To tell the honest truth, Polly, it wasnot a very hard one. I've had a feeling for some time that Trix and Iwere not suited to one another, and it might be wiser to stop short. Butshe did not or would not see it; and I was not going to back out, andleave her to wear any more willows, so here we are. I don't bear malice,but hope she'll do better, and not be disappointed again, upon my wordI do."
"That's very good of you, quite Sydneyesque, and noble," said Polly,feeling rather ill at ease, and wishing she could hide herself behind acap and spectacles, if she was to play Grandma to this confiding youth.
"It will be all plain sailing for Syd, I fancy," observed Tom, gettingup as if the little cricket suddenly ceased to be comfortable.
"I hope so," murmured Polly, wondering what was coming next.
"He deserves the very best of everything, and I pray the Lord he may getit," added Tom, poking the fire in a destructive manner.
Polly made no answer, fearing to pay too much, for she knew Fan had madeno confidant of Tom, and she guarded her friend's secret as jealously asher own. "You'll write to Ned to-morrow, will you? I'll take anythinghe's got, for I want to be off," said Tom, casting down the poker,and turning round with a resolute air which was lost on Polly, who sattwirling the rose that had fallen into her lap.
"I'll write to-night. Would you like me to tell the girls about Trixand Sydney?" she asked as she rose, feeling that the council was over.
"I wish you would. I don't know how to thank you for all you've donefor me; I wish to heaven I did," said Tom, holding out his hand with alook that Polly thought a great deal too grateful for the little she haddone.
As she gave him her hand, and looked up at him with those confiding eyesof hers, Tom's gratitude seemed to fly to his head, for, without theslightest warning, he stooped down and kissed her, a proceeding whichstartled Polly so that he recovered himself at once, and retreated intohis den with the incoherent apology, "I beg pardon could n't help itgrandma always let me on my birthday."
While Polly took refuge up stairs, forgetting all about Fan, as she satin the dark with her face hidden, wondering why she was n't very angry,and resolving never again to indulge in the delightful but dangerouspastime of playing grandmother.