“Is that who you meant?” asked Fan, wistfully.
“No, it's a much better and dearer friend than I am,” said Polly, pinching Fanny's cheek, as it reddened prettily under her eyes. “You'll never guess, Maud, so I would n't try, but be planning what you will put in your cunning, three-cornered closet, when you get it.”
Having got rid of “Miss Paulina Pry,” as Tom called Maud, who was immediately absorbed by her cupboard, the older girls soberly discussed the sudden change which had come, and Polly was surprised to see what unexpected strength and sense Fanny showed. Polly was too unconscious of the change which love had made in herself to understand at first the cause of her friend's new patience and fortitude; but she rejoiced over it, and felt that her prophecy would yet be fulfilled. Presently Maud emerged from her new closet, bringing a somewhat startling idea with her.
“Do bankrupting men” (Maud liked that new word) “always have fits?”
“Mercy, no! What put that into your head, child?” cried Polly.
“Why, Mr. Merton did; and I was thinking perhaps papa had got one down there, and it kind of frightened me.”
“Mr. Merton's was a bad, disgraceful failure, and I don't wonder he had a fit. Ours is n't, and papa won't do anything of that sort, you may be sure,” said Fanny, with as proud an air as if “our failure” was rather an honor than otherwise.
“Don't you think you and Maud had better go down and see him?” asked Polly.
“Perhaps he would n't like it; and I don't know what to say, either,” began Fan; but Polly said, eagerly, “I know he would like it. Never mind what you say; just go, and show him that you don't doubt or blame him for this, but love him all the more, and are ready and glad to help him bear the trouble.”
“I'm going, I ain't afraid; I'll just hug him, and say I'm ever so glad we are going to the little house,” cried Maud, scrambling off the bed, and running down stairs.