An Old-Fashioned Girl

"It is strange; I don't understand it myself; but women are queer creatures, and there 's no accounting for their tastes," said Polly, with a sly look, which Tom fully appreciated.

"You were so good to me those last days, that I came very near speaking out, but could n't bear to seem to be offering you a poor, disgraced sort of fellow, whom Trix would n't have, and no one seemed to think worth much. 'No,' I said to myself, 'Polly ought to have the best; if Syd can get her, let him, and I won't say a word. I 'll try to be better worthy her friendship, anyway; and perhaps, when I 've proved that I can do something, and am not ashamed to work, then, if Polly is free, I shan't be afraid to try my chance.'

So I held my tongue, worked like a horse, satisfied myself and others that I could get my living honestly, and then came home to see if there was any hope for me."

"And I was waiting for you all the time," said a soft voice close to his shoulder; for Polly was much touched by Tom's manly efforts to deserve her.

"I did n't mean to do it the first minute, but look about me a little, and be sure Syd was all right. But Fan's news settled that point, and just now the look in my Polly's face settled the other. I could n't wait another minute, or let you either, and I could n't help stretching out my arms to my little wife, God bless her, though I know I don't deserve her."

Tom's voice got lower and lower as he spoke, and his face was full of an emotion of which he need not be ashamed, for a very sincere love ennobled him, making him humble, where a shallower affection would have been proud of its success. Polly understood this, and found the honest, hearty speech of her lover more eloquent than poetry itself. Her hand stole up to his cheek, and she leaned her own confidingly against the rough coat, as she said, in her frank simple way, "Tom, dear, don't say that, as if I was the best girl in the world. I 've got ever so many faults, and I want you to know them all, and help me cure them, as you have your own. Waiting has not done us any harm, and I love you all the better for your trial. But I 'm afraid your year has been harder than mine, you look so much older and graver than when you went away. You never would complain; but I 've had a feeling that you were going through a good deal more than any of us guessed."

"Pretty tough work at first, I own. It was all so new and strange, I 'm afraid I should n't have stood it if it had not been for Ned. He 'd laugh and say 'Pooh!' if he heard me say it, but it 's true nevertheless that he 's a grand fellow and helped me through the first six months like a well, a brother as he is. There was no reason why he should go out of his way to back up a shiftless party like me, yet he did, and made many things easy and safe that would have been confoundedly hard and dangerous if I 'd been left to myself.

The only way I can explain it is that it 's a family trait, and as natural to the brother as it is to the sister."

"It 's a Shaw trait to do the same. But tell me about Maria; is Ned really engaged to her?"

"Very much so; you 'll get a letter full of raptures tomorrow; he had n't time to send by me, I came off in such a hurry. Maria is a sensible, pretty girl and Ned will be a happy old fellow."

"Why did you let us think it was you?"

"I only teased Fan a little; I did like Maria, for she reminded me of you sometimes, and was such a kind, cosy little woman I could n't help enjoying her society after a hard day's work. But Ned got jealous, and then I knew that he was in earnest, so I left him a clear field, and promised not to breathe a word to any one till he had got a Yes or No from his Maria."

"I wish I 'd known it," sighed Polly. "People in love always do such stupid things!"

"So they do; for neither you nor Fan gave us poor fellows the least hint about Syd, and there I 've been having all sorts of scares about you."

"Serves us right; brothers and sisters should n't have secrets from each other."

"We never will again. Did you miss me very much?"

"Yes, Tom; very, very much."

"My patient little Polly!"

"Did you really care for me before you went?"

"See if I did n't;" and with great pride Tom produced a portly pocket-book stuffed with business-like documents of a most imposing appearance, opened a private compartment, and took out a worn-looking paper, unfolded it carefully, and displayed a small brown object which gave out a faint fragrance.

"That 's the rose you put in the birthday cake, and next week we 'll have a fresh one in another jolly little cake which you 'll make me; you left it on the floor of my den the night we talked there, and I 've kept it ever since. There 's love and romance for you!"

Polly touched the little relic, treasured for a year, and smiled to read the words "My Polly's rose," scribbled under the crumbling leaves.

"I did n't know you could be so sentimental," she said, looking so pleased that he did not regret confessing his folly.