“And you heard us praise your manners, did n't you?” asked Polly, slyly.
“Yes, and you liked'em; so I won't tell on you,” said Tom, with a re-assuring 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 need n't try to catch me up, as grandma does.”
“Tom, I'll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It was n't my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I could n't help their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa need n'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.