being friends right away.""Did he not know a lot?"
"Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, so he could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I felt so proud to hear it; but they did n't know half how wise he was, because he did n't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grand of their brothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much right to be as I had."
"Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that shows you don't know much about it."
"Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys were as kind to them as Jimmy was to me." "Why, what did he do?"
"Loved me dearly, and was n't ashamed to show it," cried Polly, with a sob in her voice, that made her answer very eloquent. "What made him die, Polly?" asked Tom, soberly, after little pause.
"He got hurt coasting, last winter; but he never told which boy did it, and he only lived a week. I helped take care of him; and he was so patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain all time. He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens, and his big knife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the last thing and then O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"
Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips trembling more and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by," she could n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried as her heart would break. Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't know how to show it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and trying to think of something proper and comfortable to say, when Fanny came to the rescue, and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothing little pats and whispers and kisses, till the tears
stopped, and Polly said, she "did n't mean to, and would n't any more. I 've been thinking about my dear boy all the evening, for Tom reminds me of him," she added, with a sigh.
"Me? How can I, when I ain't a bit like him?" cried Tom, amazed. "But you are in some ways."
"Wish I was; but I can't be, for he was good, you know."
"So are you, when you choose. Has n't he been good and patient, and don't we all like to pet him when he 's clever, Fan?"' said Polly, whose heart was still aching for her brother, and ready for his sake to find virtues even in tormenting Tom.
"Yes; I don't know the boy lately; but he 'll be as bad as ever when he 's well," returned Fanny, who had n't much faith in sick-bed
repentances.
"Much you know about it," growled Tom, lying down again, for he had sat bolt upright when Polly made the astounding declaration that he was like the well-beloved Jimmy. That simple little history had made a deep impression on Tom, and the tearful ending touched the tender spot that most boys hide so carefully. It is very pleasant to be loved and admired, very sweet to think we shall be missed and mourned when we die; and Tom was seized with a sudden desire to imitate this boy, who had n't done anything wonderful, yet was so dear to his sister, that she cried for him a whole year after he was dead; so studious and clever, the people called him "a fine fellow"; and so anxious to be good, that he kept on trying, till he was better even than Polly, whom Tom privately considered a model of virtue, as girls go.
"I just wish I had a sister like you," he broke out, all of a sudden.
"And I just wish I had a brother like Jim," cried Fanny, for she felt the reproach in Tom's words, and knew she deserved it.
"I should n't think you 'd envy anybody, for you 've got one another," said Polly, with such a wistful look, that it suddenly set Tom and Fanny to wondering why they did n't have better times together, and enjoy themselves, as Polly and Jim did.
"Fan don't care for anybody but herself," said Tom.
25
"Tom is such a bear," retorted Fanny.
"I would n't say such things, for if anything should happen to either of you, the other one would feel so sorry. Every cross word I
ever said to Jimmy comes back now, and makes me wish I had n't."
Two great tears rolled down Polly's cheeks, and were quietly wiped away; but I think they watered that sweet sentiment, called fraternal love, which till now had been neglected in the hearts of this brother and sister. They did n't say anything then, or make any plans, or confess any faults; but when they parted for the night, Fanny gave the wounded head a gentle pat (Tom never would have forgiven her if she had kissed him), and said, in a whisper, "I hope you 'll have a good sleep, Tommy, dear."
And Tom nodded back at her, with a hearty "Same to you, Fan."
That was all; but it meant a good deal, for the voices were kind, and the eyes met full of that affection which makes words of little consequence. Polly saw it; and though she did n't know that she had made the sunshine, it shone back upon her so pleasantly, that she fell happily asleep, though her Jimmy was n't there to say "good-night."
CHAPTER V. SCRAPES
AFTER being unusually good, children are apt to turn short round and refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week after Tom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so that grandma said she was afraid "something was going to happen to them." The dear old lady need n't have felt anxious, for such excessive virtue does n't last long enough to lead to translation, except with little prigs in the goody story-books; and no sooner was Tom on his legs again, when the whole party went astray, and much tribulation was the consequence.
It all began with "Polly's stupidity," as Fan said afterward. Just as Polly ran down to meet Mr. Shaw one evening, and was helping him off with his coat, the bell rang, and a fine bouquet of hothouse flowers was left in Polly's hands, for she never could learn city ways, and opened the door herself.
"Hey! what's this? My little Polly is beginning early, after all," said Mr. Shaw, laughing, as he watched the girl's face dimple and flush, as she smelt the lovely nosegay, and glanced at a note half hidden in the heliotrope.
Now, if Polly had n't been "stupid," as Fan said, she would have had her wits about her, and let it pass; but, you see, Polly was an honest little soul and it never occurred to her that there was any need of concealment, so she answered in her straightforward way, "Oh, they ain't for me, sir; they are for Fan; from Mr. Frank, I guess. She 'll be so pleased."
"That puppy sends her things of this sort, does he?" And Mr. Shaw looked far from pleased as he pulled out the note, and coolly opened 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 show her father the funny valentines the boys sent her, and how they laughed over them together. But Mr. Shaw did not laugh when he had read the sentimental verses accompanying the bouquet, and his face quite scared Polly, as he asked, angrily, "How long has this nonsense been going on?"
"Indeed, sir, I don't know. Fan does n't mean any harm. I wish I had n't said anything!" stammered Polly, remembering the promise given to Fanny the day of the concert. She had forgotten all about it and had become accustomed to see the "big boys," as she called Mr. Frank and his friends, with the girls on all occasions. Now, it suddenly occurred to her that Mr. Shaw did n't like such amusements, 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 have secrets from their fathers, then there would n't be any fuss," thought Polly, as she watched Mr. Shaw twist up the pink note and poke 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
