“Thank you, sir,” said Polly, gratefully, and nodded at Tom, who telegraphed back “All right!” and fell upon his dinner with the appetite of a young wolf.
“Oh, you sly-boots! you're getting up a flirtation with Tom, are you?” whispered Fanny to her friend, as if much amused.
“What!” and Polly looked so surprised and indignant, that Fanny was ashamed of herself, and changed the subject by telling her mother she needed some new gloves.
Polly was very quiet after that, and the minute dinner was over, she left the room to go and have a quiet “think” about the whole matter. Before she got half-way up stairs, she saw Tom coming after, and immediately sat down to guard her feet. He laughed, and said, as he perched himself on the post of the banisters, “I won't grab you, honor bright. I just wanted to say, if you'll come out to-morrow some time, we'll have a good coast.”
“No,” said Polly, “I can't come.”
“Why not? Are you mad? I did n't tell.” And Tom looked amazed at the change which had come over her.
“No; you kept your word, and stood by me like a good boy. I'm not mad, either; but I don't mean to coast any more. Your mother don't like it.”
“That is n't the reason, I know. You nodded to me after she'd freed her mind, and you meant to go then. Come, now, what is it?”
“I shan't tell you; but I'm not going,” was Polly's determined answer.
“Well, I did think you had more sense than most girls; but you have n't, and I would n't give a sixpence for you.”