ow
that I stop to think about it. But how could you, _you_, Edgar Noble,
take that evil-eyed, fat-nosed, common Tony Selling for a friend? I
wonder at you!"

"He is n't so bad in some ways. I owe him eighty dollars of that
money, and he says he 'll give me six months to pay it."

"I 'm glad he has some small virtues," Polly replied witheringly.
"Now, what can we do, Edgar? Let us think. What can, what _can_ we
do?" and she leaned forward reflectively, clasping her knee with her
hands and wrinkling her brow with intense thought.

That little "we" fell on Edgar's loneliness of spirit consolingly; for
it adds a new pang to self-distrust when righteous people withdraw from
one in utter disdain, even if they are "only girls" who know little of
a boy's temptations.

"If you can save something each month out of your allowance, Edgar,"
said Polly, finally, with a brighter look, "I can spare fifty or even
seventy-five dollars of our money, and you may pay it back as you can.
We are not likely to need it for several months, and your father and
mother ought not to be troubled with this matter, now that it's over
and done with."

The blood rushed to Edgar's face as he replied stiffly: "I may be
selfish and recklessly extravagant, but I don't borrow money from
girls. If you wanted to add the last touch to my shame, you 've done
it. Don't you suppose I have eyes, Polly Oliver? Don't you suppose I
've hated myself ever since I came under this roof, when I have seen
the way you worked and planned and plotted and saved and denied
yourself? Don't you suppose I 've looked at you twenty times a day,
and said to myself, 'You miserable, selfish puppy, getting yourself and
everybody who cares for you into trouble, just look at that girl and be
ashamed of yourself down to the ground!' And now you offer to lend me
money! Oh, Polly, I wouldn't have believed it of you!"

Polly felt convicted of sin, although she was not very clear as to the
reason. She blushed as she said hastily, "Your mother has been a very
good friend to us, Edgar; why should n't we help you a little, just for
once? Now, let us go in to see mamma and talk it all over together!"

"If you pity me, Polly, don't tell her; I could not bear to have that
saint upon earth worried over my troubles; it was mean enough to add a
feather's weight to yours."

"Well, we won't do it, then," said Polly, with maternal kindness in her
tone. "Do stop pacing up and down lik