he sat as still as a mouse; while
Fanny, conscience stricken, laid back the poor little presents with a
respectful hand, for somehow the thought of Polly's poverty came over
her as it never had done before; and these odds and ends, so carefully
treasured up for those at home, touched Fanny, and grew beautiful in her
eyes. As she laid by the little book, the confessions in it reproached
her more sharply that any words Polly could have spoken; for she had
laughed at her friend, had slighted her sometimes, and been unforgiving
for an innocent offence. That last page, where Polly took the blame on
herself, and promised to "truly try" to be more kind and patient, went
to Fanny's heart, melting all the coldness away, and she could only lay
her head on the trunk, sobbing, "It was n't Polly's fault; it was all
mine."

Tom, still red with shame at being caught in such a scrape, left Fanny
to her tears, and went manfully away to find the injured Polly, and
confess his manifold transgressions. But Polly could n't be found. He
searched high and low in every room, yet no sign of the girt appeared,
and Tom began to get anxious. "She can't have run away home, can she?"
he said to himself, as he paused before the hat-tree. There was the
little round hat, and Tom gave it a remorseful smooth, remembering how
many times he had tweaked it half off, or poked it over poor Polly's
eyes. "Maybe she 's gone down to the office, to tell pa. 'T is n't a bit
like her, though. Anyway, I 'll take a look round the corner."

Eager to get his boots, Tom pulled open the door of a dark closet under
the stairs, and nearly tumbled over backward with surprise; for there,
on the floor, with her head pillowed on a pair of rubbers, lay Polly
in an attitude of despair. This mournful spectacle sent Tom's penitent
speech straight out of his head, and with an astonished "Hullo!" he
stood and stared in impressive silence. Polly was n't crying, and lay
so still, that Tom began to think she might be in a fit or a faint,
and bent anxiously down to inspect the pathetic bunch. A glimpse of wet
eyelashes, a round cheek redder than usual, and lips parted by quick,
breathing, relieved his mind upon that point; so, taking courage, he sat
down on the boot-jack, and begged pardon like a man.

Now, Polly was very angry, and I think she had a right to be; but she
was not resentful, and after the first flash was over, she soon began to
feel better about it. It was n't easy to f