“What is it?” Polly looked at him sharply, and caught her breath.
“I won't drag Jasper down, I tell you, with me. I'll get through somehow at school. I promise you that. Here!” He twitched out his right hand from its pocket, and thrust it out at her.
“Oh Pickering Dodge!” exclaimed Polly in a transport, and seizing his hand, it was shaken vigorously.
“There, that's a bargain,” declared Pickering solemnly. “I'll get through someway. And say, Polly, it was awfully good of you to speak.”
“It was awfully hard,” said Polly, drawing a long breath. “Oh, are you sure you are not vexed, Pickering? Very sure?” And Polly's face drooped anxiously.
“Vexed?” cried Pickering. “I should rather say not! Polly, I'm lazy and selfish, and good for nothing; but I couldn't be vexed, for 'twas awfully hard for you to do.”
“I guess it was,” said Polly. Then she gave a little laugh, for it was all bright and jolly again, and she knew that Pickering would keep his word.
And that evening, after Jasper and she had a dance—they were so happy, they couldn't keep still—in the wide hall, Jasper burst out suddenly with a fresh idea.
“Polly,” he said, drawing her off to rest on one of the high, carved chairs, “there's one more thing.”
“Oh, what is it Jasper?” she cried gaily, with flushed cheeks. “Oh, wasn't that spin just delicious?”