Chapter V. Scrapes

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter V. ScrapesAfter being unusually good, children are apt to turn short roundand refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week afterTom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so thatgrandma said she was afraid "something was going to happen tothem." The dear old lady need n't have felt anxious, for suchexcessive virtue does n't last long enough to lead to translation,except with little prigs in the goody story-books; and no soonerwas Tom on his legs again, when the whole party went astray, andmuch tribulation was the consequence.It all began with "Polly's stupidity," as Fan said afterward. Just asPolly ran down to meet Mr. Shaw one evening, and was helpinghim off with his coat, the bell rang, and a fine bouquet of hothouseflowers was left in Polly's hands, for she never could learn cityways, and opened the door herself."Hey! what's this? My little Polly is beginning early, after all," saidMr. Shaw, laughing, as he watched the girl's face dimple and flush,as she smelt the lovely nosegay, and glanced at a note half hiddenin the heliotrope.Now, if Polly had n't been "stupid," as Fan said, she would havehad her wits about her, and let it pass; but, you see, Polly was anhonest little soul and it never occurred to her that there was anyneed of concealment, so she answered in her straightforward way,"Oh, they ain't for me, sir; they are for Fan; from Mr. Frank, Iguess. She'll be so pleased.""That puppy sends her things of this sort, does he?" And Mr. Shawlooked far from pleased as he pulled out the note, and coollyopened it.Polly had her doubts about Fan's approval of that "sort of thing,"but dared not say a word, and stood thinking how she used to showher father the funny valentines the boys sent her, and how theylaughed over them together. But Mr. Shaw did not laugh when hehad read the sentimental verses accompanying the bouquet, and hisface quite scared Polly, as he asked, angrily, "How long has thisnonsense been going on?""Indeed, sir, I don't know. Fan does n't mean any harm. I wish I hadn't said anything!" stammered Polly, remembering the promisegiven to Fanny the day of the concert. She had forgotten all aboutit and had become accustomed to see the "big boys," as she calledMr. Frank and his friends, with the girls on all occasions. Now, itsuddenly occurred to her that Mr. Shaw did n't like suchamusements, and had forbidden Fan to indulge in them. "Oh, dear!how mad she will be. Well, I can't help it. Girls should n't havesecrets from their fathers, then there would n't be any fuss,"thought Polly, as she watched Mr. Shaw twist up the pink note andpoke it back among the flowers which he took from her, saying,shortly, "Send Fanny to me in the library.""Now you've done it, you stupid thing!" cried Fanny, both angryand dismayed, when Polly delivered the message."Why, what else could I do?" asked Polly, much disturbed."Let him think the bouquet was for you; then there'd have been notrouble.""But that would have been doing a lie, which is most as bad astelling one.""Don't be a goose. You've got me into a scrape, and you ought tohelp me out.""I will if I can; but I won't tell lies for anybody!" cried Polly,getting excited."Nobody wants you to just hold, your tongue, and let me manage.""Then I'd better not go down," began Polly, when a stern voicefrom below called, like Bluebeard, "Are you coming down?""Yes, sir," answered a meek voice; and Fanny clutched Polly,whispering, "You must come; I'm frightened out of my wits whenhe speaks like that. Stand by me, Polly; there's a dear.""I will," whispered "sister Ann"; and down they went withfluttering hearts.Mr. Shaw stood on the rug, looking rather grim; the bouquet lay onthe table, and beside it a note, directed to "Frank Moore, Esq.," in avery decided hand, with a fierce-looking flourish after the "Esq."Pointing to this impressive epistle, Mr. Shaw said, knitting hisblack eyebrows as he looked at Fanny, "I'm going to put a stop tothis nonsense at once; and if I see any more of it, I'll send you toschool in a Canadian convent."This awful threat quite took Polly's breath away; but Fanny hadheard it before, and having a temper of her own, said, pertly, "I'msure I have n't done anything so very dreadful. I can't help it if theboys send me philopena presents, as they do to the other girls.""There was nothing about philopenas in the note. But that's not thequestion. I forbid you to have anything to do with this Moore. He'snot a boy, but a fast fellow, and I won't have him about. You knewthis, and yet disobeyed me.""I hardly ever see him," began Fanny."Is that true?" asked Mr. Shaw, turning suddenly to Polly."Oh, please, sir, don't ask me. I promised I would n't that is Fannywill tell you," cried Polly, quite red with distress at thepredicament she was in."No matter about your promise; tell me all you know of this absurdaffair. It will do Fanny more good than harm." And Mr. Shaw satdown looking more amiable, for Polly's dismay touched him."May I?" she whispered to Fanny."I don't care," answered Fan, looking both angry and ashamed, asshe stood sullenly tying knots in her handkerchief.So Polly told, with much reluctance and much questioning, all sheknew of the walks, the lunches, the meetings, and the notes. It wasn't much, and evidently less serious than Mr. Shaw expected; for,as he listened, his eyebrows smoothed themselves out, and morethan once his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, for after all, itwas rather comical to see how the young people aped their elders,playing the new-fashioned game, quite unconscious of its realbeauty, power, and sacredness."Oh, please, sir, don't blame Fan much, for she truly is n't half assilly as Trix and the other, girls. She would n't go sleigh-riding,though Mr. Frank teased, and she wanted to ever so much. She'ssorry, I know, and won't forget what you say any more, if you'llforgive her this once," cried Polly, very earnestly, when the foolishlittle story was told."I don't see how I can help it, when you plead so well for her.Come here, Fan, and mind this one thing; drop all this nonsense,and attend to your books, or off you go; and Canada is no joke inwinter time, let me tell you."As he spoke, Mr. Shaw stroked his sulky daughter's cheek, hopingto see some sign of regret; but Fanny felt injured, and would n'tshow that she was sorry, so she only said, pettishly, "I suppose Ican have my flowers, now the fuss is over.""They are going straight back where they came from, with a linefrom me, which will keep that puppy from ever sending you anymore." Ringing the bell, Mr, Shaw despatched the unfortunateposy, and then turned to Polly, saying, kindly but gravely, "Set thissilly child of mine a good example and do your best for her, won'tyou?""Me? What can I do, sir?" asked Polly, looking ready, but quiteignorant how to begin."Make her as like yourself as possible, my dear; nothing wouldplease me better. Now go, and let us hear no more of this folly."They went without a word, and Mr. Shaw heard no more of theaffair; but poor Polly did, for Fan scolded her, till Polly thoughtseriously of packing up and going home next day. I really have n'tthe heart to relate the dreadful lectures she got, the snubs shesuffered, or the cold shoulders turned upon her for several daysafter this. Polly's heart was full, but she told no one, and bore hertrouble silently, feeling her friend's ingratitude and injusticedeeply.Tom found out what the matter was, and sided with Polly, whichproceeding led to scrape number two."Where's Fan?" asked the young gentleman, strolling into hissister's room, where Polly lay on the sofa, trying to forget hertroubles in an interesting book."Down stairs, seeing company.""Why did n't you go, too?""I don't like Trix, and I don't know her fine New York friends.""Don't want to, neither, why don't you say?""Not polite.""Who cares? I say, Polly, come and have some fun.""I'd rather read.""That is n't polite."Polly laughed, and turned a page. Tom whistled a minute, thensighed deeply, and put his hand to his forehead, which the blackplaster still adorned."Does your head ache?" asked Polly."Awfully.""Better lie down, then.""Can't; I'm fidgety. and want to be'amoosed' as Pug says.""Just wait till I finish my chapter, and then I'll come," said pitifulPolly."All right," returned the perjured boy, who had discovered that abroken head was sometimes more useful than a whole one, andexulting in his base stratagem, he roved about the room, till Fan'sbureau arrested him. It was covered with all sorts of finery, for shehad dressed in a hurry, and left everything topsy-turvy. Awell-conducted boy would have let things alone, or a moral brotherwould have put things to rights; being neither, Tom rummaged tohis hearts content, till Fan's drawers looked as if some one hadbeen making hay in them. He tried the effect of ear-rings, ribbons,and collars; wound up the watch, though it was n't time; burnt hisinquisitive nose with smelling-salts; deluged his grimyhandkerchief with Fan's best cologne; anointed his curly crop withher hair-oil; powdered his face with her violet-powder; andfinished off by pinning on a bunch of false ringlets, which Fannytried, to keep a profound secret. The ravages committed by thisbad boy are beyond the power of language to describe, as herevelled in the interesting drawers, boxes, and cases, which heldhis sister's treasures.When the curls had been put on, with much pricking of fingers,and a blue ribbon added, . la Fan, he surveyed himself withsatisfaction, and considered the effect so fine, that he was inspiredto try a still greater metamorphosis. The dress Fan had taken offlay on a chair, and into it got Tom, chuckling with suppressedlaughter, for Polly was absorbed, and the bed-curtains hid hisiniquity. Fan's best velvet jacket and hat, ermine muff, and asofa-pillow for pannier, finished off the costume, and trippingalong with elbows out, Tom appeared before the amazed Polly justas the chapter ended. She enjoyed the joke so heartily, that Tomforgot consequences, and proposed going down into the parlor tosurprise, the girls."Goodness, no! Fanny never would forgive us if you showed hercurls and things to those people. There are gentlemen among them,and it would n't be proper," said Polly, alarmed at the idea."All the more fun. Fan has n't treated you well, and it will serve herright if you introduce me as your dear friend, Miss Shaw. Comeon, it will be a jolly lark.""I would n't for the world; it would be so mean. Take'em off, Tom,and I'll play anything else you like.""I ain't going to dress up for nothing; I look so lovely, someonemust admire me. Take me down, Polly, and see if they don't callme'a sweet creature.' "Tom looked so unutterably ridiculous as he tossed his curls andpranced, that Polly went off into another gale of merriment; buteven while she laughed, she resolved not to let him mortify hissister."Now, then, get out of the way if you won't come; I'm goingdown," said Tom."No, you're not.""How will you help it, Miss Prim?""So." And Polly locked the door, put the key in her pocket, andnodded at him defiantly.Tom was a pepper-pot as to temper, and anything like oppositionalways had a bad effect. Forgetting his costume, he strode up toPolly, saying, with a threatening wag of the, head, "None of that. Iwon't stand it.""Promise not to plague Fan, and I'll let you out.""Won't promise anything. Give me that key, or I'll make you.""Now, Tom, don't be savage. I only want to keep you out of ascrape, for Fan will be raging if you go. Take off her things, and I'll give up."Tom vouchsafed no reply, but marched to the other door, whichwas fast, as Polly knew, looked out of the three-story window, andfinding no escape possible, came back with a wrathful face. "Willyou give me that key?""No, I won't," said Polly, valiantly."I'm stronger than you are; so you'd better hand over.""I know you are; but it's cowardly for a great boy like you to rob agirl.""I don't want to hurt you; but, by George! I won't stand this!"Tom paused as Polly spoke, evidently ashamed of himself; but histemper was up, and he would n't give in. If Polly had cried a littlejust here, he would have yielded; unfortunately she giggled, forTom's fierce attitude was such a funny contrast to his dress that shecould n't help it. That settled the matter. No girl that ever livedshould giggle at him, much less lock him up like a small child.Without a word, he made a grab at Polly's arm, for the handholding the key was still in her, pocket. With her other hand sheclutched her frock, and for a minute held on stoutly. But Tom'sstrong fingers were irresistible; rip went the pocket, out came thehand, and with a cry of pain from Polly, the key fell on the floor."It's your own fault if you're hurt. I did n't mean to," mutteredTom, as he hastily departed, leaving Polly to groan over hersprained wrist. He went down, but not into the parlor, forsomehow the joke seemed to have lost its relish; so he made thegirls in the kitchen laugh, and then crept up the back way, hopingto make it all right with Polly. But she had gone to grandma'sroom, for, though the old lady was out, it seemed a refuge. He hadjust time to get things in order, when Fanny came up, crosser thanever; for Trix had been telling her of all sorts of fun in which shemight have had a share, if Polly had held her tongue."Where is she?" asked Fan, wishing to vent her vexation on herfriend."Moping in her room, I suppose," replied Tom, who wasdiscovered reading studiously.Now, while this had been happening, Maud had been getting intohot water also; for when her maid left her, to see a friend below,Miss Maud paraded into Polly's room, and solaced herself withmischief. In an evil hour Polly had let her play boat in her bigtrunk, which stood empty. Since then Polly had stored some of hermost private treasures in the upper tray, so that she might feel surethey were safe from all eyes. She had forgotten to lock the trunk,and when Maud raised the lid to begin her voyage, several objectsof interest met her eyes. She was deep in her researches when Fancame in and looked over her shoulder, feeling too cross with Pollyto chide Maud.As Polly had no money for presents, she had exerted her ingenuityto devise all sorts of gifts, hoping by quantity to atone for anyshortcomings in quality. Some of her attempts were successful,others were failures; but she kept them all, fine or funny, knowingthe children at home would enjoy anything new. Some of Maud'scast-off toys had been neatly mended for Kitty; some of Fan's oldribbons and laces were converted into dolls' finery; and Tom's littlefigures, whittled out of wood in idle minutes, were laid away toshow Will what could be done with a knife."What rubbish!" said Fanny."Queer girl, is n't she?" added Tom, who had followed to see whatwas going on."Don't you laugh at Polly's things. She makes nicer dolls than you,Fan; and she can wite and dwar ever so much better than Tom,"cried Maud. "How do you know? I never saw her draw," saidTom."Here's a book with lots of pictures in it. I can't wead the witing;but the pictures are so funny."Eager to display her friend's accomplishments, Maud pulled out afat little book, marked "Polly's Journal," and spread it in her lap."Only the pictures; no harm in taking a look at'em," said Tom."Just one peep," answered Fanny; and the next minute both werelaughing at a droll sketch of Tom in the gutter, with the big doghowling over him, and the velocipede running away. Very roughand faulty, but so funny, that it was evident Polly's sense of humorwas strong. A few pages farther back came Fanny and Mr. Frank,caricatured; then grandma, carefully done; Tom reciting hisbattle-piece; Mr. Shaw and Polly in the park; Maud being borneaway by Katy; and all the school-girls turned into ridicule with anunsparing hand."Sly little puss, to make fun of us behind our backs," said Fan,rather nettled by Polly's quiet retaliation for many slights fromherself and friends."She does draw well," said Tom, looking critically at the sketch ofa boy with a pleasant face, round whom Polly had drawn rays likethe sun, and under which was written, "My dear Jimmy.""You would n't admire her, if you knew what she wrote here aboutyou," said Fanny, whose eyes had strayed to the written pageopposite, and lingered there long enough to read something thatexcited her curiosity."What is it?" asked Tom, forgetting his honorable resolves for aminute."She says,'I try to like Tom, and when he is pleasant we do verywell; but he don't stay so long. He gets cross and rough, anddisrespectful to his father and mother, and plagues us girls, and isso horrid I almost hate him. It's very wrong, but I can't help it.'How do you like that?" asked Fanny."Go ahead, and see how she comes down on you, ma'am," retortedTom, who had read on a bit."Does she?" And Fanny continued, rapidly: "As for Fan, I don'tthink we can be friends any more; for she told her father a lie, andwon't forgive me for not doing so too. I used to think her a veryfine girl; but I don't now. If she would be as she was when I firstknew her, I should love her just the same; but she is n't kind to me;and though she is always talking about politeness, I don't think it ispolite to treat company as she does me. She thinks I am odd andcountrified, and I dare say I am; but I should n't laugh at a girl'sclothes because she was poor, or keep her out of the way becauseshe did n't do just as other girls do here. I see her make fun of me,and I can't feel as I did; and I'd go home, only it would seemungrateful to Mr. Shaw and grandma, and I do love them dearly.""I say, Fan, you've got it now. Shut the book and come away,"cried Tom, enjoying this broadside immensely, but feeling guilty,as well he might."Just one bit more," whispered Fanny, turning on a page or two,and stopping at a leaf that was blurred here and there as if tearshad dropped on it."Sunday morning, early. Nobody is up to spoil my quiet time, and Imust. write my journal, for I've been so bad lately, I could n't bearto do it. I'm glad my visit is most done, for things worry me here,and there is n't any one to help me get right when I get wrong. Iused to envy Fanny; but I don't now, for her father and motherdon't take care of her as mine do of me. She is afraid of her father,and makes her mother do as she likes. I'm glad I came though, forI see money don't give people everything; but I'd like a little all thesame, for it is so comfortable to buy nice things. I read over myjournal just now, and I'm afraid it's not a good one; for I have saidall sorts of things about the people here, and it is n't kind. I shouldtear it out, only I promised to keep my diary, and I want to talkover things that puzzle me with mother. I see now that it is myfault a good deal; for I have n't been half as patient, and pleasant asI ought to be. I will truly try for the rest of the time, and be as goodand grateful as I can; for I want them to like me, though I'm only'an old-fashioned country girl.'"That last sentence made Fanny shut the book, with a face full ofself-reproach; for she had said those words herself, in a fit ofpetulance, and Polly had made no answer, though her eyes filledand her cheeks burned. Fan opened her lips to say something, butnot a sound followed, for there stood Polly looking at them with anexpression they had never seen before."What are you doing with my things?" she demanded, in a lowtone, while her eyes kindled and her color changed."Maud showed us a book she found, and we were just looking atthe pictures," began Fanny, dropping it as if it burnt her fingers."And reading my journal, and laughing at my presents, and thenputting the blame on Maud. It's the meanest thing I ever saw; and I'll never forgive you as long as I live!"Polly said, this all in one indignant breath, and then as if afraid ofsaying too much, ran out of the room with such a look of mingledcontempt, grief, and anger, that the three culprits stood dumb withshame. Tom had n't even a whistle at his command; Maud was soscared at gentle Polly's outbreak, that she sat as still as a mouse;while Fanny, conscience stricken, laid back the poor little presentswith a respectful hand, for somehow the thought of Polly's povertycame over her as it never had done before; and these odds andends, so carefully treasured up for those at home, touched Fanny,and grew beautiful in her eyes. As she laid by the little book, theconfessions in it reproached her more sharply that any words Pollycould have spoken; for she had laughed at her friend, had slightedher sometimes, and been unforgiving for an innocent offence. Thatlast page, where Polly took the blame on herself, and promised to"truly try" to be more kind and patient, went to Fanny's heart,melting all the coldness away, and she could only lay her head onthe trunk, sobbing, "It was n't Polly's fault; it was all mine."Tom, still red with shame at being caught in such a scrape, leftFanny to her tears, and went manfully away to find the injuredPolly, and confess his manifold transgressions. But Polly could n'tbe found. He searched high and low in every room, yet no sign ofthe girt appeared, and Tom began to get anxious. "She can't haverun away home, can she?" he said to himself, as he paused beforethe hat-tree. There was the little round hat, and Tom gave it aremorseful smooth, remembering how many times he had tweakedit half off, or poked it over poor Polly's eyes. "Maybe she's gonedown to the office, to tell pa.'T is n't a bit like her, though.Anyway, I'll take a look round the corner."Eager to get his boots, Tom pulled open the door of a dark closetunder the stairs, and nearly tumbled over backward with surprise;for there, on the floor, with her head pillowed on a pair of rubbers,lay Polly in an attitude of despair. This mournful spectacle sentTom's penitent speech straight out of his head, and with anastonished "Hullo!" he stood and stared in impressive silence.Polly was n't crying, and lay so still, that Tom began to think shemight be in a fit or a faint, and bent anxiously down to inspect thepathetic bunch. A glimpse of wet eyelashes, a round cheek redderthan usual, and lips parted by quick, breathing, relieved his mindupon that point; so, taking courage, he sat down on the boot-jack,and begged pardon like a man.Now, Polly was very angry, and I think she had a right to be; butshe was not resentful, and after the first flash was over, she soonbegan to feel better about it. It was n't easy to forgive; but, as shelistened to Tom's honest voice, getting gruff with remorse now andthen, she could n't harden her heart against him, or refuse to makeup when he so frankly owned that it "was confounded mean to readher book that way." She liked his coming and begging pardon atonce; it was a handsome thing to do; she appreciated it, andforgave him in her heart some time before she did with her lips;for, to tell the truth, Polly had a spice of girlish malice, and ratherliked to see domineering Tom eat humble-pie, just enough to dohim good, you know. She felt that atonement was proper, andconsidered it no more than just that Fan should drench ahandkerchief or two with repentant tears, and that Tom should siton a very uncomfortable seat and call himself hard names for fiveor ten minutes before she relented."Come, now, do say a word to a fellow. I'm getting the worst of it,anyway; for there's Fan, crying her eyes out upstairs, and here areyou stowed away in a dark closet as dumb as a fish, and nobodybut me to bring you both round. I'd have cut over to the Smythesand got ma home to fix things, only it looked like backing out ofthe scrape; so I did n't," said Tom, as a last appeal.Polly was glad to hear that Fan was crying. It would do her good;but she could n't help softening to Tom, who did seem in apredicament between two weeping damsels. A little smile began todimple the cheek that was n't hidden, and then a hand came slowlyout from under the curly head, and was stretched toward himsilently. Tom was just going to give it a hearty shake, when he sawa red mark on the wrist, and knew what made it. His face changed,and he took the chubby hand so gently, that Polly peeped to seewhat it meant."Will you forgive that, too?" he asked, in a whisper, stroking thered wrist."Yes, it don't hurt much now." And Polly drew her hand away,sorry he had seen it."I was a beast, that's what I was!" said Tom, in a tone of greatdisgust. And just at that awkward minute down tumbled hisfather's old beaver over his head and face, putting a comicalquencher on his self-reproaches. Of course, neither could helplaughing at that; and when he emerged, Polly was sitting up,looking as much better for her shower as he did for his momentaryeclipse."Fan feels dreadfully. Will you kiss and be friends, if I trot herdown?" asked Tom, remembering his fellow-sinner."I'll go to her." And Polly whisked out of the closet as suddenly asshe had whisked in, leaving Tom sitting on the boot-jack, with aradiant countenance.How the girls made it up no one ever knew. But after much talkingand crying, kissing and laughing, the breach was healed, and peacedeclared. A slight haze still lingered in the air after the storm, forFanny was very humble and tender that evening; Tom a triflepensive, but distressingly polite, and Polly magnanimously friendlyto every one; for generous natures like to forgive, and Pollyenjoyed the petting after the insult, like a very human girl.As she was brushing her hair at bedtime there came a tap on herdoor and, opening it, she beheld nothing but a tall black bottle,with a strip of red flannel tied round it like a cravat, and acocked-hat note on the cork. Inside were these lines, written in asprawling hand with very black ink:DEAR POLLY, Opydilldock is first-rate for sprains. You put a loton the flannel and do up your wrist, and I guess it will be all rightin the morning. Will you come a sleigh-ride tomorrow? I'm awfulsorry I hurt you.TOM