“Now, Tom! it's wrong of you to say so. Of course he loves you ever so much more than he does me,” cried Polly, reprovingly.
“Why don't he show it then?” muttered Tom, with a half-wistful, half-defiant glance toward the library door, which stood ajar.
“You act so, how can he?” asked Polly, after a pause, in which she put Tom's question to herself, and could find no better reply than the one she gave him.
“Why don't he give me my velocipede? He said, if I did well at school for a month, I should have it; and I've been pegging away like fury for most six weeks, and he don't do a thing about it. The girls get their duds, because they tease. I won't do that anyway; but you don't catch me studying myself to death, and no pay for it.”
“It is too bad; but you ought to do it because it's right, and never mind being paid,” began Polly, trying to be moral, but secretly sympathizing heartily with poor Tom.
“Don't you preach, Polly. If the governor took any notice of me, and cared how I got on, I would n't mind the presents so much; but he don't care a hang, and never even asked if I did well last declamation day, when I'd gone and learned 'The Battle of Lake Regillus,' because he said he liked it.”
“Oh, Tom! Did you say that? It's splendid! Jim and I used to say Horatius together, and it was such fun. Do speak your piece to me, I do so like 'Macaulay's Lays.'”
“It's dreadful long,” began Tom; but his face brightened, for Polly's interest soothed his injured feelings, and he was glad to prove his elocutionary powers. He began without much spirit; but soon the martial ring of the lines fired him, and before he knew it, he was on his legs thundering away in grand style, while Polly listened with kindling face and absorbed attention. Tom did declaim well, for he quite forgot himself, and delivered the stirring ballad with an energy that made Polly flush and tingle with admiration and delight, and quite electrified a second listener, who had heard all that went on, and watched the little scene from behind his newspaper.
As Tom paused, breathless, and Polly clapped her hands enthusiastically, the sound was loudly echoed from behind him. Both whirled round, and there was Mr. Shaw, standing in the doorway, applauding with all his might.
Tom looked much abashed, and said not a word; Polly ran to Mr. Shaw, and danced before him, saying, eagerly, “Was n't it splendid? Did n't he do well? May n't he have his velocipede now?”