inking deeply,
living whole heart-histories, and praying fervent prayers while they
embroider pretty trifles or do the weekly mending.

CHAPTER XIX. TOM'S SUCCESS

"Come, Philander, let us be a marching,
Every one his true love a searching,"

WOULD be the most appropriate motto for this chapter, because,
intimidated by the threats, denunciations, and complaints showered upon
me in consequence of taking the liberty to end a certain story as I
liked, I now yield to the amiable desire of giving satisfaction, and,
at the risk of outraging all the unities, intend to pair off everybody I
can lay my hands on.

Occasionally a matrimonial epidemic appears, especially toward spring,
devastating society, thinning the ranks of bachelordom, and leaving
mothers lamenting for their fairest daughters. That spring the disease
broke out with great violence in the Shaw circle, causing paternal heads
much bewilderment, as one case after another appeared with alarming
rapidity. Fanny, as we have seen, was stricken first, and hardly had she
been carried safely through the crisis, when Tom returned to swell the
list of victims. As Fanny was out a good deal with her Arthur, who was
sure that exercise was necessary for the convalescent, Polly went every
day to see Mrs. Shaw, who found herself lonely, though much better than
usual, for the engagement had a finer effect upon her constitution than
any tonic she ever tried. Some three days after Fan's joyful call Polly
was startled on entering the Shaws' door, by Maud, who came tumbling
down stairs, sending an avalanche of words before her, "He 's come
before he said he should to surprise us! He 's up in mamma's room,
and was just saying, 'How 's Polly?' when I heard you come, in your
creep-mouse way, and you must go right up. He looks so funny with
whiskers, but he 's ever so nice, real big and brown, and he swung me
right up when he kissed me. Never mind your bonnet, I can't wait."

And pouncing upon Polly, Maud dragged her away like a captured ship
towed by a noisy little steam-tug.

"The sooner it 's over the better for me," was the only thought Polly
had time for before she plunged into the room above, propelled by Maud,
who cried triumphantly, "There he is! Ain't he splendid?"

For a minute, everything danced before Polly's eyes, as a hand shook
hers warmly, and a gruffish voice said heartily, "How are you, Polly?"
Then she slipped into a chair beside Mrs. Shaw, hopi