from it; for he helped her with a paternal patience that made
her eyes twinkle with suppressed fun, as he soberly explained and
illustrated, unconsciously imitating Dominie Deane, till Polly found it
difficult to keep from laughing in his face.

"You may have another go at it any, time you like," generously remarked
Tom, as he shied the algebra after the Latin Reader.

"I 'll come every evening, then. I 'd like to, for I have n't studied a
bit since I came. You shall try and make me like algebra, and I 'll try
and make you like Latin, will you?"

"Oh, I 'd like it well enough, if there was any one explain it to me.
Old Deane puts us through double-quick, and don't give a fellow time to
ask questions when we read."

"Ask your father; he knows."

"Don't believe he does; should n't dare to bother him, if he did."

"Why not?"

"He 'd pull my ears, and call me a 'stupid,' or tell me not to worry
him."

"I don't think he would. He 's very kind to me, and I ask lots of
questions."

"He likes you better than he does me."

"Now, Tom! it 's wrong of you to say so. Of course he loves you ever so
much more than he does me," cried Polly, reprovingly.

"Why don't he show it then?" muttered Tom, with a half-wistful,
half-defiant glance toward the library door, which stood ajar.

"You act so, how can he?" asked Polly, after a pause, in which she put
Tom's question to herself, and could find no better reply than the one
she gave him.

"Why don't he give me my velocipede? He said, if I did well at school
for a month, I should have it; and I 've been pegging away like fury for
most six weeks, and he don't do a thing about it. The girls get their
duds, because they tease. I won't do that anyway; but you don't catch me
studying myself to death, and no pay for it."

"It is too bad; but you ought to do it because it 's right, and
never mind being paid," began Polly, trying to be moral, but secretly
sympathizing heartily with poor Tom.

"Don't you preach, Polly. If the governor took any notice of me, and
cared how I got on, I would n't mind the presents so much; but he don't
care a hang, and never even asked if I did well last declamation day,
when I 'd gone and learned 'The Battle of Lake Regillus,' because he
said he liked it."

"Oh, Tom! Did you say that? It 's splendid! Jim and I used to say
Horatius together, and it was such fun. Do speak your piece to me, I do
so like 'Macaulay's Lays.'"

"It 's dreadful long," be