CHAPTER V. SCRAPES

wlingoverhim,andthevelocipederunningaway.Veryroughandfaulty,butsofunny,thatitwasevidentPolly'ssenseofhumorwasstrong.AfewpagesfartherbackcameFannyandMr.Frank,caricaturedthengrandma,carefullydoneTomrecitinghisbattle-pieceMr.ShawandPollyintheparkMaudbeingborneawaybyKatyandalltheschool-girlsturnedintoridiculewithanunsparinghand. “Slylittlepuss,tomakefunofusbehindourbacks,”saidFan,rathernettledbyPolly'squietretaliationformanyslightsfromherselfandfriends. “Shedoesdrawwell,”saidTom,lookingcriticallyatthesketchofaboywithapleasantface,roundwhomPollyhaddrawnrayslikethesun,andunderwhichwaswritten,“MydearJimmy.” “Youwouldn'tadmireher,ifyouknewwhatshewrotehereaboutyou,”saidFanny,whoseeyeshadstrayedtothewrittenpageopposite,andlingeredtherelongenoughtoreadsomethingthatexcitedhercuriosity. “Whatisit?”askedTom,forgettinghishonorableresolvesforaminute. “Shesays,'ItrytolikeTom,andwhenheispleasantwedoverywellbuthedon'tstaysolong.Hegetscrossandrough,anddisrespectfultohisfatherandmother,andplaguesusgirls,andissohorridIalmosthatehim.It'sverywrong,butIcan'thelpit.'Howdoyoulikethat?”askedFanny. “Goahead,andseehowshecomesdownonyou,ma'am,”retortedTom,whohadreadonabit. “Doesshe?”AndFannycontinued,rapidly:“AsforFan,Idon'tthinkwecanbefriendsanymoreforshetoldherfatheralie,andwon'tforgivemefornotdoingsotoo.IusedtothinkheraveryfinegirlbutIdon'tnow.IfshewouldbeasshewaswhenIfirstknewher,Ishouldloveherjustthesamebutsheisn'tkindtomeandthoughsheisalwaystalkingaboutpoliteness,Idon'tthinkitispolitetotreatcompanyasshedoesme.ShethinksIamoddandcountrified,andIdaresayIambutIshouldn'tlaughatagirl'sclothesbecauseshewaspoor,orkeepheroutofthewaybecauseshedidn'tdojustasothergirlsdohere.Iseehermakefunofme,andIcan'tfeelasIdidandI'dgohome,onlyitwouldseemungratefultoMr.Shawandgrandma,andIdolovethemdearly.” “Isay,Fan,you'vegotitnow.Shutthebookandcomeaway,”criedTom,enjoyingthisbroadsideimmensely,butfeelingguilty,aswellhemight. “Justonebitmore,”whisperedFanny,turningonapageortwo,andstoppingataleafthatwasblurredhereandthereasiftearshaddroppedonit. “Sundaymorning,early.Nobodyisuptospoilmyquiettime,andImustwritemyjournal,forI'vebeensobadlately,Icouldn'tbeartodoit.I'mgladmyvisitismostdone,forthingsworrymehere,andthereisn'tanyonetohelpmegetrightwhenIgetwrong.IusedtoenvyFannybutIdon'tnow,forherfatherandmotherdon'ttakecareofherasminedoofme.Sheisafraidofherfather,andmakeshermotherdoasshelikes.I'mgladIcamethough,forIseemoneydon'tgivepeopleeverythingbutI'dlikealittleallthesame,foritissocomfortabletobuynicethings.Ireadovermyjournaljustnow,andI'mafraidit'snotagoodoneforIhavesaidallsortsofthingsaboutthepeoplehere,anditisn'tkind.Ishouldtearitout,onlyIpromisedtokeepmydiary,andIwanttotalkoverthingsthatpuzzlemewithmother.IseenowthatitismyfaultagooddealforIhaven'tbeenhalfaspatient,andpleasantasIoughttobe.Iwilltrulytryfortherestofthetime,andbeasgoodandgratefulasIcanforIwantthemtolikeme,thoughI'monly'anold-fashionedcountrygirl.'” ThatlastsentencemadeFannyshutthebook,withafacefullofself-reproachforshehadsaidthosewordsherself,inafitofpetulance,andPollyhadmadenoanswer,thoughhereyesfilledandhercheeksburned.Fanopenedherlipstosaysomething,butnotasoundfollowed,fortherestoodPollylookingatthemwithanexpressiontheyhadneverseenbefore. “Whatareyoudoingwithmythings?”shedemanded,inalowtone,whilehereyeskindledandhercolorchanged. “Maudshowedusabookshefound,andwewerejustlookingatthepictures,”beganFanny,droppingitasifitburntherfingers. “Andreadingmyjournal,andlaughingatmypresents,andthenputtingtheblameonMaud.It'sthemeanestthingIeversawandI'llneverforgiveyouaslongasIlive!” Pollysaid,thisallinoneindignantbreath,andthenasifafraidofsayingtoomuch,ranoutoftheroomwithsuchalookofmingledcontempt,grief,andanger,thatthethreeculpritsstooddumbwithshame.Tomhadn'tevenawhistleathiscommandMaudwassoscaredatgentlePolly'soutbreak,thatshesatasstillasamousewhileFanny,consciencestricken,laidbackthepoorlittlepresentswitharespectfulhand,forsomehowthethoughtofPolly'spovertycameoverherasitneverhaddonebeforeandtheseoddsandends,socarefullytreasuredupforthoseathome,touchedFanny,andgrewbeautifulinhereyes.Asshelaidbythelittlebook,theconfessionsinitreproachedhermoresharplythatanywordsPollycouldhavespokenforshehadlaughedatherfriend,hadslightedhersometimes,andbeenunforgivingforaninnocentoffence.Thatlastpage,wherePollytooktheblameonherself,andpromisedto“trulytry”tobemorekinda