Say, Miss Gwendolyn," he began, "_you_ like old Thomas, don't you?"

Gwendolyn's nostrils widened and quivered, receiving the tempting
fragrance of fresh-roasted peanuts. At the same time, her eyes lit with
glad surprise. Since her seventh anniversary, she had noted a vast
change for the better in the attitude of Miss Royle, Thomas and Jane;
where, previous to the birthday, it had seemed the main purpose of the
trio (if not the duty) to circumvent her at every turn--to which end,
each had a method that was unique: the first commanded; the second
threatened; Thomas employed sarcasm or bribery. But now this wave of
thoughtfulness, generosity and smooth speech!--marking a very era in the
history of the nursery. Here was fresh evidence that it was
_continuing_.

Yet--was it not too good to last?

"Why, ye-e-es," she answered, more than half guessing that this time
bribery was in the air.

But the fragrant bag resolved itself into a friendly offering. Thomas
let it drop to the table.

Casting her last doubt aside, Gwendolyn caught it up eagerly. Miss Royle
never permitted her to eat peanuts, which lent to them all the charm of
the forbidden. She cracked a pod; and fell to crunching merrily.

"And you wouldn't like to see me go away, _would_ you now," went on
Thomas.

Her mouth being crammed, she shook her head cordially.

"Ah! I thought so!" He tore the bag down the side so that she could more
easily get at its store. Then, leaning down confidentially, and
pointing a teasing finger at her, "Ha! Ha! Who was it got caught spyin'
yesterday?"

The small jaws ceased grinding. She lifted her eyes. Their gray was
suddenly clouded--remembering what, for a moment, her joy in the peanuts
had blotted out. "But I _wasn't_ spying," she denied earnestly.

"Then what _was_ you doin'?--still as mice behind them curtains."

The mist cleared. Her face sunned over once more. "I was waving at the
nurse in the brick house," she explained.

At that, up went Thomas's head. His mouth opened. His ears grew red.
"The nurse in the brick house!" he repeated softly.

"The one with the curly hair," went on Gwendolyn, cracking more pods.

Thomas turned his face toward the side window of the school-room.
Through it could be seen the chimneys of the brick house. He smacked his
lips.

"You like peanuts, too," said Gwendolyn. She proffered the bag.

He ignored it. His look was dreamy. "There's a fine Pomeranian at the
brick house," he rema