s a fox, Grandpapa."

"That's her name," said Tom, nodding at her; "Jemima Fox--isn't that a
sweet name, Phronsie?"

"I don't think it is a _very_ sweet one, Tom," said Phronsie, feeling
quite badly to be obliged to say so.

"I agree with you," said Tom, while the others all laughed. "Well,
Phronsie, she's just as far from being nice as her name is."

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie, looking quite grieved.

"But I have something nice to tell you," said Tom quickly, "so I'll
hurry on, and let the other personages at Dr. Marks' slide. Well,--but
I want you all to understand, though"--and he wrinkled up his
brows,--"that when a fellow does real, bang-up, fine things at that
school, it means something. You will, won't you?" He included them all
now in a sweeping glance, letting his blue eyes rest the longest on Mrs.
Fisher's face; while Phronsie broke in, "What's bang-up, Grandpapa?"

"You must ask Tom," replied Grandpapa, with a little laugh.

"Oh, that's just schoolboy lingo," Tom made haste to say, as his face
got red.

"What's lingo?" asked Phronsie, more puzzled than before.

"That's--that's--oh, dear!" Tom's face rivalled the firelight by this
time, for color.

"Phronsie, I wouldn't ask any more questions now," said Polly gently.
"Boys say so many things; and it isn't necessary to know now. Let's
listen to the story."

"I will," said Phronsie, feeling quite relieved that it wasn't really
incumbent on her to ask for explanations. So she sat back quietly in her
big chair, while Tom shot Polly a grateful look.

"Well, there are lots of chaps at our school," went on Tom--"I suppose
there are at all schools, but at any rate we have them in a big
quantity,--who are mad when they see the other boys get on."

"Oh, Tom!" exclaimed Polly.

"Yes, they are--mad clear through," declared Tom positively. "And it's
principally in athletics." Phronsie made a little movement at this word,
but, remembering that she was not to ask questions, for Polly had said
so, she became quiet again.

"They simply can't bear that a boy gets ahead of 'em; it just knocks 'em
all up." Tom was rushing on, with head thrown back and gazing into the
fire.

"Tom," said Joel, bounding up suddenly to take his head out of Polly's
lap, and to sit quite straight, "I wouldn't run on like this if I were
you."

"You hush up, Pepper," said Tom coolly. "I haven't said a word about
you. I shall say what I like. I tell you, it does just knock 'em