Chapter XVII. Playing Grandmother

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter XVII. Playing GrandmotherI think Tom had the hardest time of all, for besides the familytroubles, he had many of his own to perplex and harass him.College scrapes were soon forgotten in greater afflictions; butthere were plenty of tongues to blame "that extravagant dog," andplenty of heads to wag ominously over prophecies of the good timeTom Shaw would now make on the road to ruin. As reportersflourish in this country, of course Tom soon heard all the friendlycriticisms passed upon him and his career, and he suffered morethan anybody guessed; for the truth that was at the bottom of thegossip filled him with the sharp regret and impotent wrath againsthimself as well as others, which drives many a proud fellow, soplaced, to destruction, or the effort that redeems boyish folly, andmakes 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, andgracious opportunities. He felt its worth even while heacknowledged, with the sense of justice that is strong in manlymen, how little he deserved a gift which he had so misused. Hebrooded over this a good deal, for, like the bat in the fable, he didn't seem to find any place in the new life which had begun for all.Knowing nothing of business, he was not of much use to his father,though he tried to be, and generally ended by feeling that he was ahindrance, not a help. Domestic affairs were equally out of hisline, and the girls, more frank than their father, did not hesitate totell him he was in the way when he offered to lend a handanywhere. 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 suddenlyconfronted with conscience, he exaggerated his faults and folliesinto sins of the deepest dye, and fancied he was regarded by othersas a villain and an outcast. Pride and penitence made him shrinkout of sight as much as possible, for he could not bear pity, evenwhen silently expressed by a friendly hand or a kindly eye. Hestayed at home a good deal, and loafed about with a melancholyand neglected air, vanished when anyone came, talked very little,and was either pathetically humble or tragically cross. He wantedto do something, but nothing seemed to appear; and while hewaited to get his poise after the downfall, he was so very miserablethat I'm afraid, if it had not been for one thing, my poor Tomwould have got desperate, and been a failure. But when he seemedmost useless, outcast, and forlorn, he discovered that one personneeded him, one person never found him in the way, one personalways welcomed and clung to him with the strongest affection ofa very feeble nature. This dependence of his mother's was Tom'ssalvation at that crisis of his life; and the gossips, who said softlyto one another over their muffins and tea. "It really would be arelief to that whole family if poor, dear Mrs. Shaw could be ahem!mercifully removed," did not know that the invalid's weak, idlehands were unconsciously keeping the son safe in that quiet room,where she gave him all that she had to give, mother-love, till hetook heart again, and faced the world ready to fight his battlesmanfully."Dear, dear! how old and bent poor father does look. I hope hewon't forget to order my sweetbread," sighed Mrs. Shaw one day,as she watched her husband slowly going down the street.Tom, who stood by her, idly spinning the curtain tassel, followedthe familiar figure with his eye, and seeing how gray the hair hadgrown, how careworn the florid face, and how like a weary oldman his once strong, handsome father walked, he was smitten by anew pang of self-reproach, and with his usual impetuosity setabout repairing the omission as soon as he discovered it."I'll see to your sweetbread, mum. Good-by, back to dinner," andwith a hasty kiss, Tom was off.He did n't know exactly what he meant to do, but it had suddenlycome over him, that he was hiding from the storm, and letting hisfather meet it alone; for the old man went to his office every daywith the regularity of a machine, that would go its usual rounduntil it stopped, while the young man stayed at home with thewomen, and let his mother comfort him."He has a right to be ashamed of me, but I act as if I was ashamedof him; dare say people think so. I'll show them that I ain't; yes, bythe powers, I will!" and Tom drew on his gloves with the air of aman about to meet and conquer an enemy."Have an arm, sir? If you don't mind I'll walk down with you.Little commission for mother, nice day, is n't it?"Tom rather broke down at the end of his speech, for the look ofpleased surprise with which his father greeted him, the alacritywith which he accepted and leaned on the strong arm offered him,proved that the daily walks had been solitary and doubtless sadones. I think Mr. Shaw understood the real meaning of that littleact of respect, and felt better for the hopeful change it seemed toforetell. But he took it quietly, and leaving his face to speak forhim, merely said, "Thanky, Tom; yes, mother will enjoy herdinner twice as much if you order it."Then they began to talk business with all their might, as if theyfeared that some trace of sentiment might disgrace their masculinedignity. But it made no difference whether they discussed lawsuitsor love, mortgages or mothers, the feeling was all right and theyknew it, so Mr. Shaw walked straighter than usual, and Tom feltthat he was in his proper place again. The walk was not without itstrials, however; for while it did Tom's heart good to see the cordialrespect paid to his father, it tried his patience sorely to see alsoinquisitive or disapproving glances fixed upon himself when hatswere lifted to his father, and to hear the hearty "Good day, Mr.Shaw," drop into a cool or careless, "That's the son; it's hard onhim. Wild fellow, do him good.""Granted; but you need n't hit a man when he's down," mutteredTom to himself, feeling every moment a stronger desire to dosomething that should silence everybody. "I'd cut away toAustralia if it was n't for mother; anything, anywhere to get out ofthe way of people who know me. I never can right myself here,with all the fellows watching, and laying wagers whether I sink orswim. Hang Greek and Latin! wish I'd learned a trade, and hadsomething to fall back upon. Have n't a blessed thing now, butdecent French and my fists. Wonder if old Bell don't want a clerkfor 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 thegreat edification of all beholders, he screwed up his courage, andwent to prefer his request, feeling that the prospect brightened alittle. But Mr. Bell was not in a good humor, and only gave Tom asevere lecture on the error of his ways, which sent him home muchdepressed, and caused the horizon to lower again.As he roamed about the house that afternoon, trying to calculatehow much an Australian outfit would cost, the sound of livelyvoices and clattering spoons attracted him to the kitchen. There hefound Polly giving Maud lessons in cookery; for the "new help"not being a high-priced article, could not be depended on fordesserts, and Mrs. Shaw would have felt as if the wolf was at thedoor if there was not "a sweet dish" at dinner. Maud had a geniusfor cooking, and Fanny hated it, so that little person was in herglory, studying receipt books, and taking lessons whenever Pollycould give them."Gracious me, Tom, don't come now; we are awful busy! Mendon't belong in kitchens," cried Maud, as her brother appeared inthe doorway."Could n't think what you were about. Mum is asleep, and Fan out,so I loafed down to see if there was any fun afoot," said Tom,lingering, as if the prospect was agreeable. He was a social fellow,and very grateful just then to any one who helped him to forget hisworries for a time. Polly knew this, felt that his society would notbe a great affliction to herself at least, and whispering to Maud,"He won't know," she added, aloud, "Come in if you like, and stirthis cake for me; it needs a strong hand, and mine are tired. There,put on that apron to keep you tidy, sit here, and take it easy.""I used to help grandma bat up cake, and rather liked it, if Iremember right," said Tom, letting Polly tie a checked apron onhim, put a big bowl into his hands, and settle him near the table,where Maud was picking raisins, and she herself stirring busilyabout among spice-boxes, rolling-pins, and butter-pots."You do it beautifully, Tom. I'll give you a conundrum to lightenyour labor: Why are bad boys like cake?" asked Polly, anxious tocheer him up."Because a good beating makes them better. I doubt that myself,though," answered Tom, nearly knocking the bottom of the bowlout with his energetic demonstrations, for it really was a relief todo something."Bright boy! here's a plum for you," and Polly threw a plumpraisin into 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 oneof the few 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 hereyes, and Maud exclaimed, "I do believe he's preaching.""Feel as if I could sometimes," continued Tom; then his eye fellupon the dimples in Polly's elbows, and he added, with a laugh,"That's more in 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 allon the top, and we eat them gayly, till we suddenly find they aregone. In others the plums sink to the bottom, and we look for themin vain as we go on, and often come to them when it is too late toenjoy them. But in the well-made cake, the plums are wiselyscattered all through, and every mouthful is a pleasure. We makeour own cakes, in a great measure, therefore let us look to it, mybrethren, that they are mixed according to the best receipt, bakedin a well regulated oven, and gratefully eaten with a temperateappetite.""Good! good!" cried Tom, applauding with the wooden spoon."That's a model sermon, Polly, short, sweet, sensible, and not a bitsleepy. I'm one 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 thanthey used to be,' as dear old Parson Miller used to answer. Now,Maud, bring on the citron;" and Polly began to put the caketogether in what seemed a most careless and chaotic manner,while Tom and Maud watched with absorbing interest till it wassafely in the oven."Now make your custards, dear; Tom may like to beat the eggs foryou; it seems to have a good effect upon his constitution.""First-rate; hand'em along," and Tom smoothed his apron with acheerful air. "By the way, Syd's got back. I met him yesterday, andhe treated me like a man and a brother," he added, as if anxious tocontribute to the pleasures of the hour."I'm so glad!" cried Polly, clapping her hands, regardless of theegg she held, which dropped and smashed on the floor at her feet."Careless thing! Pick it up, Maud, I'll get some more;" and Pollywhisked out of the room, glad of an excuse to run and tell Fan,who had just come in, lest, hearing the news in public, she mightbe startled out of the well-bred composure with which youngladies are expected to receive tidings, even of the most vitalimportance."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, inthe time of Queen Elizabeth.""You mean Sir Philip Sidney? Yes, he lived then and a fine oldfellow he was too.""There; I knew the girls did n't mean him," cried Maud, with achop that sent 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 ofit; but I heard Polly and Fan talking about some one dreadfulmysterious, and when I asked who it was, Fan said,'Sir Philip.' Ho!she need n't think I believe it! I saw'em laugh, and blush, and pokeone another, and I knew it was n't about any old Queen Elizabethman," cried Maud, turning up her nose as far as that somewhatlimited feature would go."Look here, you are letting cats out of the bag. Never mind, Ithought so. They don't tell us their secrets, but we are so sharp, wecan't help finding them out, can we?" said Tom, looking so muchinterested, that Maud 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 oldenough now to be told anything, and those girls better mind whatthey say, for I'm not a stupid chit, like Blanche. I just wish youcould have heard them go on. I'm sure there's something very niceabout Mr. Sydney, they looked so pleased when they whisperedand giggled on the bed, and thought I was ripping bonnets, and didn't hear a word.""Which looked most pleased?" asked Tom, investigating thekitchen boiler with deep interest."Well,'pears to me Polly did; she talked most, and looked funnyand very happy all the time. Fan laughed a good deal, but I guessPolly is the loveress," replied Maud, after a moment's reflection."Hold your tongue; she's coming!" and Tom began to pump as ifthe house was on fire.Down came Polly, with heightened color, bright eyes, and not asingle egg. Tom took a quick look at her over his shoulder, andpaused as if the fire was suddenly extinguished. Something in hisface made Polly feel a little guilty, so she fell to grating nutmeg,with a vigor which made red cheeks the most natural thing in life.Maud, the traitor, sat demurely at work, looking very like whatTom had called her, a magpie with mischief in its head. Polly felt achange in the atmosphere, but merely thought Tom was tired, soshe graciously dismissed him with a stick of cinnamon, as she hadnothing else just then to lay upon the shrine. "Fan's got the booksand maps you wanted. Go and rest now. I'm much obliged; here'syour wages, Bridget.""Good luck to your messes," answered Tom, as he walked awaymeditatively crunching his cinnamon, and looking as if he did notfind it as spicy as usual. He got his books, but did not read them;for, shutting himself up in the little room called "Tom's den," hejust sat down and brooded.When he came down to breakfast the next morning, he was greetedwith a general "Happy birthday, Tom!" and at his place lay giftsfrom every member of the family; not as costly as formerly,perhaps, but infinitely dearer, as tokens of the love that hadoutlived the change, and only grown the warmer for the test ofmisfortune. In his present state of mind, Tom felt as if he did notdeserve a blessed thing; so when every one exerted themselves tomake it a happy day for him, he understood what it means "to benearly killed with kindness," and sternly resolved to be an honor tohis family, or perish in the attempt. Evening brought Polly to whatshe called a "festive tea," and when they gathered round the table,another gift appeared, which, though not of a sentimental nature,touched Tom more than all the rest. It was a most delectable cake,with a nosegay atop, and round it on the snowy frosting there ran apink inscription, just as it had been every year since Tom couldremember."Name, age, and date, like a nice white tombstone," observedMaud, complacently, at which funereal remark, Mrs. Shaw, whowas down in honor of the day, dropped her napkin, and demandedher salts."Whose doing is that?" asked Tom, surveying the gift withsatisfaction; for it recalled the happier birthdays, which seemedvery 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 grandmaalways made you a little cake like that, and that you once said itwould n't be a happy birthday without it. So I tried to make it justlike hers, and I do hope it will prove a good, sweet, plummy one.""Thank you," was all Tom said, as he smiled at the giver, but Pollyknew that her present had pleased him more than the most eleganttrifle she could 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 neverguessing who the cake was for. I perfectly trembled every time youopened your mouth, for fear you'd ask some question about it.That was the reason Polly preached and I kept talking when shewas gone.""Very stupid of me; but I forgot all about to-day. Suppose we cutit; I don't seem to care for anything else," said Tom, feeling noappetite, but bound to do justice to that cake, if he fell a victim tohis gratitude."I hope the plums won't all be at the bottom," said Polly, as sherose to do the honors of the cake, by universal appointment."I've had a good many at the top already, you know," answeredTom, watching the operation with as much interest as if he hadfaith in the omen.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, Pollyadded the flowers and handed it to Tom, with a look that said agood deal, for, seeing that he remembered her sermon, she wasglad to find that her allegory held good, in one sense at least.Tom's face brightened as he took it, and after an inspection whichamused the others very much he looked up, saying, with an air ofrelief, "Plums all through; I'm glad I had a hand in it, but Pollydeserves the credit, and must wear the posy," and turning to her, heput the rose into her hair with more gallantry than taste, for a thornpricked her head, the leaves tickled her ear, and the flower wasupside down.Fanny laughed at his want of skill, but Polly would n't have italtered, and everybody fell to eating cake, as if indigestion was oneof the lost arts. They had a lively tea, and were getting on famouslyafterward, when two letters were brought for Tom, who glanced atone, and retired rather precipitately to his den, leaving Maudconsumed with curiosity, and the older girls slightly excited, forFan thought she recognized the handwriting on one, and Polly, onthe other.One half an hour and then another elapsed, and Tom did notreturn. Mr. Shaw went out, Mrs. Shaw retired to her room escortedby Maud, and the two girls sat together wondering if anythingdreadful had happened. All of a sudden a voice called, "Polly!" andthat young lady started out of her chair, as if the sound had been athunder-clap."Do run! I'm perfectly fainting to know what the matter is," saidFan."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 towardsthe door, in a great flutter.Polly went without another word, but she wore a curiously anxiouslook, and stopped on the threshold of the den, as if a little afraid ofits occupant. Tom was sitting in his favorite attitude, astride of achair, with his arms folded and his chin on the top rail; not anelegant posture, but the only one in which, he said, he could thinkwell."Did you want me, Tom?""Yes. Come in, please, and don't look scared; I only want to showyou a present 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 facewhen he rose and turned 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 beganto walk up and down the little room, like a veritable bear in itscage. As Polly read that short note, all the color went out of herface, and her eyes began to kindle. When she came to the end, shestood a minute, as if too indignant to speak, then gave the paper anervous sort of crumple and dropped it on the floor, saying, all inone breath, "I think she is a 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."And Tom took up a second paper, looking half angry, halfashamed at his own mistake. "I don't care, though; every one willknow to-morrow; and perhaps you'll be good enough to keep thegirls from bothering me with questions and gabble," he added, asif, on second thoughts, he was relieved to have the communicationmade 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 theother; kindness always does." Tom stopped short there, and stood aminute turning the letter about in his hand as if it contained asweet which neutralized the bitter in that smaller note, and touchedhim very much. Then he drew up an armchair, and beckoningPolly to take it, said in a sober, steady tone, that surprised hergreatly, "Whenever I was in a quandary, I used to go and consultgrandma, and she always had something sensible or comfortable tosay to me. She's gone now, but somehow, Polly, you seem to takeher place. Would you mind sitting in her chair, and letting me tellyou two or three things, as Will does?"Mind it? Polly felt that Tom had paid her the highest and mostbeautiful compliment he could have devised. She had often longedto do it, for, being brought up in the most affectionate and frankrelations with her brothers, she had early learned what it takesmost women some time to discover, that sex does not make nearlyas much difference in hearts and souls as we fancy. Joy andsorrow, love and fear, life and death bring so many of the sameneeds to all, that the wonder is we do not understand each otherbetter, but wait till times of tribulation teach us that human natureis very much the same in men and women. Thanks to thisknowledge, Polly understood Tom in a way that surprised and wonhim. She knew that he wanted womanly sympathy, and that shecould give it to him, because she was not afraid to stretch her handacross the barrier which our artificial education puts between boysand girls, and to say to him in all good faith, "If I can help you, letme."Ten minutes sooner Polly could have done this almost as easily toTom as to Will, but in that ten minutes something had happenedwhich made this difficult. Reading that Trix had given Tom backhis freedom changed many things to Polly, and caused her toshrink from his confidence, because she felt as if it would beharder now to keep self out of sight; for, spite of maiden modesty,love and hope would wake and sing at the good news. Slowly shesat down, and hesitatingly she said, with her eyes on the 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 Icould!""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 goodsoul, but she is n't practical, and we always get into a snarl if wetry to work together, so who have I but my other sister, Polly? Thepleasure that 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 tothe window, as if to leave her free to enjoy it unseen; but he couldnot help a glance now and then, and as Polly's face brightened, hisown fell."Oh, Tom, that's a birthday present worth having, for it's sobeautifully given I don't see how you can refuse it. Arthur Sydneyis a real nobleman!" cried Polly, looking up at last, with her factglowing, and her eyes full of delight."So he is! I don't know another man living, except father, whowould have done such a thing, or who I could bring myself to takeit from. Do you see, he's not only paid the confounded debts, buthas done it in my name, to spare me all he could?""I see, it's like him; and I think he must be very happy to be ableto do such a thing.""It is an immense weight off my shoulders, for some of those mencould n't afford to wait till I'd begged, borrowed, or earned themoney. Sydney can wait, but he won't long, if I know myself.""You won't take it as a gift, then?""Would you?""No.""Then don't think I will. I'm a pretty poor affair, Polly, but I'm notmean 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 Tomhad ever made in her hearing, for something in his face and voicetold her that the friendly act had roused a nobler sentiment thangratitude, making the cancelled obligations of the boy, debts ofhonor 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 inmy head lately, that sometimes it seems as if it would split,"continued the poor fellow, rubbing his tired forehead, as if topolish up his wits. "I've thought seriously of going to California,Australia, or some out-of-the-way place, where men get rich in ahurry.""Oh, no!" cried Polly, putting out her hand as it to keep him, andthen snatching it back again before he could turn round."It would be hard on mother and the girls, I suppose; besides, Idon't quite 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 turnclerk, 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 Ispecially want your advice, Polly. Yesterday I heard you tellingFan about your brother Ned; how well he got on; how he liked hisbusiness, and wanted Will to come and take some place near him.You thought I was reading, but I heard; and it struck me thatperhaps I could get a chance out West somewhere. What do youthink?""If you really mean work, I know you could," answered Polly,quickly, as all sorts of plans and projects went sweeping throughher mind. "I wish you could be with Ned; you'd get on together, I'm sure; and he'd be so glad to do anything he could. I'll write andask, straight away, if you 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,before I speak to father. There's nothing so convincing to businessmen as facts, you know."Polly could not help smiling at Tom's new tone, it seemed sostrange to hear him talking about anything but horses and tailors,dancing and girls. She liked it, however, as much as she did thesober expression of his face, and the way he had lately of swinginghis arms about, as if he wanted to do something energetic withthem."That will be wise. Do you think your father will like this plan?""Pretty sure be will. Yesterday, when I told him I must go atsomething right off, he said,'Anything honest, Tom, and don'tforget that your father began the world as a shop-boy.' You knewthat, did n't you?""Yes, he told me the story once, and I always liked to hear it,because it 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 socontented with this poorish place. It is only beginning again, hesays; and having worked his way up once, he feels as if he couldagain. I declare to you, Polly, that sort of confidence in himself,and energy and courage in a man of his years, makes me love andrespect the dear old gentleman as I never did before.""I'm so glad to hear you say that, Tom! I've sometimes thoughtyou did n't quite appreciate your father, any more than he knewhow much of a man you were.""Never was till to-day, you know," said Tom, laughing, yet lookingas if he felt the dignity of his one and twenty years. "Odd, is n't it,how people live together ever so long, and don't seem to find oneanother out, till something comes to do it for them. Perhaps thissmash-up was sent to introduce me to my own father.""There's philosophy for you," said Polly, smiling, even while shefelt as if adversity was going to do more for Tom than years ofprosperity.They both sat quiet for a minute, Polly in the big chair looking athim with a new respect in her eyes, Tom on the stool near byslowly tearing up a folded paper he had absently taken from thefloor 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 Ioffered to release Trix from the engagement, and she would n't letme," continued Tom, as if, having begun the subject, he wished toexplain it thoroughly."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 Idid not expect it, and nothing touches a fellow more than to have awoman stand by 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,or rather her mother did. She's as cool, hard, and worldly mindedan old soul as I ever saw, and Trix is bound to obey. She getsround it very neatly in her note,'I won't be a burden,''will sacrificeher hopes,''and always remain my warm friend,' but the truth is,Tom Shaw rich was worth making much of, but Tom Shaw poor isin the way, and may go to the devil 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 bondmanfree."Came within an ace of it," muttered Tom to himself; addingaloud, in a tone of calm resignation that assured Polly his heartwould not be broken though his engagement was, "It never rainsbut it pours,'specially in hard times, but when a man is down, arap or two more don't matter much, I suppose. It's the first blowthat 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 coloredup and looked hurt for a minute, then seemed to right himself witha shrug, and said, in his outspoken way, "To tell the honest truth,Polly, it was not a very hard one. I've had a feeling for some timethat Trix and I were not suited to one another, and it might bewiser to stop short. But she did not or would not see it; and I wasnot going to back out, and leave her to wear any more willows, sohere we are. I don't bear malice, but hope she'll do better, and notbe disappointed again, upon my word I do.""That's very good of you, quite Sydneyesque, and noble," saidPolly, feeling rather ill at ease, and wishing she could hide herselfbehind a cap and spectacles, if she was to play Grandma to thisconfiding 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 hemay get it," added Tom, poking the fire in a destructive manner.Polly made no answer, fearing to pay too much, for she knew Fanhad made no confidant of Tom, and she guarded her friend's secretas jealously as her own. "You'll write to Ned to-morrow, willyou? I'll take anything he's got, for I want to be off," said Tom,casting down the poker, and turning round with a resolute airwhich was lost on Polly, who sat twirling the rose that had falleninto 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 wasover."I wish you would. I don't know how to thank you for all you'vedone for me; I wish to heaven I did," said Tom, holding out hishand with a look that Polly thought a great deal too grateful for thelittle she had done.As she gave him her hand, and looked up at him with thoseconfiding eyes of hers, Tom's gratitude seemed to fly to his head,for, without the slightest warning, he stooped down and kissed her,a proceeding which startled Polly so that he recovered himself atonce, and retreated into his den with the incoherent apology, "Ibeg pardon could n't help it grandma always let me on mybirthday."While Polly took refuge up stairs, forgetting all about Fan, as shesat in the dark with her face hidden, wondering why she was n'tvery angry, and resolving never again to indulge in the delightfulbut dangerous pastime of playing grandmother.