good manners, though I do live in the country,” replied Polly, rather warmly, for she didn’t like to be patronized even by her friends.
“Grandma says your mother is a perfect lady, and you are just like her; so don’t get in a passion with those poor fellows, and I’ll see that they behave better next time. Tom has no manners at all, and you don’t complain of him,” added Fan, with a laugh.
“I don’t care if he hasn’t; he’s a boy, and acts like one, and I can get on with him a great deal better than I can with those men.”
Fanny was just going to take Polly to task for saying “those men” in such a disrespectful tone, when both were startled by a smothered “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” from under the opposite seat.
“It’s Tom!” cried Fanny; and with the words out tumbled that incorrigible boy, red in the face, and breathless with suppressed laughter. Seating himself, he surveyed the girls as if well satisfied with the success of his prank, and waiting to be congratulated upon it. “Did you hear what we were saying?” demanded Fanny, uneasily.
“Oh, didn’t I, every word?” And Tom exulted over them visibly.
“Did you ever see such a provoking toad, Polly? Now, I suppose you’ll go and tell papa a great story.”
“P’r’aps I shall, and p’r’aps I shan’t. How Polly did hop when I crowed! I heard her squeal, and saw her cuddle up her feet.”
“And you heard us praise your manners, didn’t you?” asked Polly, slyly.
“Yes, and you liked ‘em; so I won’t tell on you,” said Tom, with a reassuring nod.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Ain’t there, though? What do you suppose the governor will say to you girls going on so with those dandies? I saw you.”
“What has the Governor of Massachusetts to do with us?” asked Polly, trying to look as if she meant what she said.
“Pooh! you know who I mean; so you needn’t try to catch me up, as grandma does.”
“Tom, I’ll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It wasn’t my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I couldn’t help their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa needn’t be angry; for I behave ever so much better than some of the girls. Don’t I, Polly?”
“Bargain?” observed Tom, with an eye to business.
“If you won’t go and make a fuss, telling what you’d no right to hear – it was so mean to hide and listen; I should think you’d be ashamed of it! – I’ll help you tease for your velocipede, and won’t say a word against it, when mamma and granny beg papa not to let you have it.”
“Will you?” and Tom paused to consider the offer in all its bearings.
“Yes, and Polly will help; won’t you?”
“I’d rather not have anything to do with it; but I’ll be quiet, and not do any harm.”
“Why won’t you?” asked Tom, curiously.
“Because it seems like deceiving.”
“Well, papa needn’t be so fussy,” said Fan, petulantly.
“After hearing about that Carrie, and the rest, I don’t wonder he is fussy. Why don’t you tell right out, and not do it any more, if he don’t want you to?” said Polly, persuasively.
“Do you go and tell your father and mother everything right out?”
“Yes, I do; and it saves ever so much trouble.”
“Ain’t you afraid of them?”
“Of course I’m not. It’s hard to tell sometimes; but it’s so comfortable when it’s over.”
“Let’s!” was Tom’s brief advice.
“Mercy me! What a fuss about nothing!” said Fanny, ready to cry with vexation.
“’Tisn’t nothing. You know you are forbidden to go gallivanting round with those chaps, and that’s the reason you’re in a pucker now. I won’t make any bargain, and I will tell,” returned Tom, seized with a sudden fit of moral firmness.
“Will you if I promise never, never to do so any more?” asked Fanny, meekly; for when Thomas took matters into his own hands, his sister usually submitted in spite of herself.
“I’ll think about it; and if you behave, maybe I won’t do it at all. I can watch you better than papa can; so, if you try it again, it’s all up with you, miss,” said Tom, finding it impossible to resist the pleasure of tyrannizing a little when he got the chance.
“She won’t; don’t plague her any more, and she will be good to you when you get into scrapes,” answered Polly, with her arm round Fan.
“I never do; and if I did, I shouldn’t ask a girl to help me out.”
“Why not? I’d ask you in a minute, if I was in trouble,” said Polly, in her confiding way.
“Would you? Well, I’d put you through, as sure as my name’s Tom Shaw. Now, then, don’t slip, Polly,” and Mr. Thomas helped them out with unusual politeness, for that friendly little speech gratified him. He felt that one person appreciated him; and it had a good effect upon manners and temper made rough and belligerent by constant snubbing and opposition.
After tea that evening, Fanny proposed that Polly should show her how to make molasses candy, as it was cook’s holiday, and the coast would be clear. Hoping to propitiate her tormentor, Fan invited Tom to join in the revel, and Polly begged that Maud might sit up and see the fun; so all four descended to the big kitchen, armed with aprons, hammers, spoons, and pans, and Polly assumed command of the forces. Tom was set to cracking nuts, and Maud to picking out the meats, for the candy was to be “tip-top.” Fan waited on Polly cook, who hovered over the kettle of boiling molasses till her face was the color of a peony. “Now, put in the nuts,” she said at last; and Tom emptied his plate into the foamy syrup, while the others watched with deep interest the mysterious concoction of this well-beloved sweetmeat. “I pour it into the buttered pan, you see, and it cools, and then we can eat it,” explained Polly, suiting the action to the word.
“Why, it’s all full of shells!” exclaimed Maud, peering into the pan.
“Oh, thunder! I must have put ’em in by mistake, and ate up the meats without thinking,” said Tom, trying to conceal his naughty satisfaction, as the girls hung over the pan with faces full of disappointment and despair.
“You did it on purpose, you horrid boy! I’ll never let you have anything to do with my fun again!” cried Fan, in a passion, trying to catch and shake him, while he dodged and chuckled in high glee.
Maud began to wail over her lost delight, and Polly gravely poked at the mess, which was quite spoilt. But her attention was speedily diverted by the squabble going on in the corner; for Fanny, forgetful of her young-ladyism and her sixteen years, had boxed Tom’s ears, and Tom, resenting the insult, had forcibly seated her in the coal-hod, where he held her with one hand while he returned the compliment with the other. Both were very angry, and kept twitting one another with every aggravation they could
