tting
up as if the little cricket suddenly ceased to be comfortable.

"I hope so," murmured Polly, wondering what was coming next.

"He deserves the very best of everything, and I pray the Lord he may get
it," added Tom, poking the fire in a destructive manner.

Polly made no answer, fearing to pay too much, for she knew Fan had made
no confidant of Tom, and she guarded her friend's secret as jealously as
her own. "You 'll write to Ned to-morrow, will you? I 'll take anything
he 's got, for I want to be off," said Tom, casting down the poker,
and turning round with a resolute air which was lost on Polly, who sat
twirling the rose that had fallen into her lap.

"I 'll write to-night. Would you like me to tell the girls about Trix
and Sydney?" she asked as she rose, feeling that the council was over.

"I wish you would. I don't know how to thank you for all you 've done
for me; I wish to heaven I did," said Tom, holding out his hand with a
look that Polly thought a great deal too grateful for the little she had
done.

As she gave him her hand, and looked up at him with those confiding eyes
of hers, Tom's gratitude seemed to fly to his head, for, without the
slightest warning, he stooped down and kissed her, a proceeding which
startled Polly so that he recovered himself at once, and retreated into
his den with the incoherent apology, "I beg pardon could n't help it
grandma always let me on my birthday."

While Polly took refuge up stairs, forgetting all about Fan, as she sat
in the dark with her face hidden, wondering why she was n't very angry,
and resolving never again to indulge in the delightful but dangerous
pastime of playing grandmother.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE WOMAN WHO DID NOT DARE

POLLY wrote enthusiastically, Ned answered satisfactorily, and after
much corresponding, talking, and planning, it was decided that Tom
should go West. Never mind what the business was; it suffices to say
that it was a good beginning for a young man like Tom, who, having been
born and bred in the most conservative class of the most conceited city
in New England, needed just the healthy, hearty, social influences of
the West to widen his views and make a man of him.

Of course there was much lamentation among the women, but every one felt
it was the best thing for him; so while they sighed they sewed, packed
visions of a brilliant future away with his new pocket handkerchiefs,
and rejoiced that the way was open before him