All the young folks turned to regard him, and Van was just going to say, “Oh, we don't want yours, Tom,” when Polly leaned forward, “Oh, will you—will you, Tom?” so eagerly that Van hadn't the heart to object.
“Yes, I will,” promised Tom, nodding at her.
“Well, get down on the rug, then,” said Jasper, moving up; “the story-teller always has to have a place of honor here.”
“That so?” cried Tom; “well, here goes,” and he precipitated himself at once into the midst of things.
“Ow! get out,” cried Van crossly, and giving him a push.
“Oh Vanny!” said Polly reprovingly.
“Well, he's so big and long,” grumbled Van, who didn't fancy anybody coming between him and Polly.
“I might cut off a piece of my legs,” said Tom, “to oblige you, I suppose. They are rather lengthy, and that's a fact,” regarding them as they stretched out in the firelight. “I'll curl 'em up in a twist like a Turk,” which he did.
“Well, now,” said Jasper, “we are ready. So fire ahead, Beresford.”
Joel, who all this time had been regarding his friend curiously, having never heard him tell a story at Dr. Marks' school, couldn't keep his eyes from him, but regarded him with a fixed stare, which Tom was careful to avoid, by looking steadily into the fire.