CHAPTER V. SCRAPES

ndpatient,wenttoFanny'sheart,meltingallthecoldnessaway,andshecouldonlylayherheadonthetrunk,sobbing,“Itwasn'tPolly'sfaultitwasallmine.” Tom,stillredwithshameatbeingcaughtinsuchascrape,leftFannytohertears,andwentmanfullyawaytofindtheinjuredPolly,andconfesshismanifoldtransgressions.ButPollycouldn'tbefound.Hesearchedhighandlowineveryroom,yetnosignofthegirtappeared,andTombegantogetanxious.“Shecan'thaverunawayhome,canshe?”hesaidtohimself,ashepausedbeforethehat-tree.Therewasthelittleroundhat,andTomgaveitaremorsefulsmooth,rememberinghowmanytimeshehadtweakedithalfoff,orpokeditoverpoorPolly'seyes.“Maybeshe'sgonedowntotheoffice,totellpa.'Tisn'tabitlikeher,though.Anyway,I'lltakealookroundthecorner.” Eagertogethisboots,Tompulledopenthedoorofadarkclosetunderthestairs,andnearlytumbledoverbackwardwithsurpriseforthere,onthefloor,withherheadpillowedonapairofrubbers,layPollyinanattitudeofdespair.ThismournfulspectaclesentTom'spenitentspeechstraightoutofhishead,andwithanastonished“Hullo!”hestoodandstaredinimpressivesilence.Pollywasn'tcrying,andlaysostill,thatTombegantothinkshemightbeinafitorafaint,andbentanxiouslydowntoinspectthepatheticbunch.Aglimpseofweteyelashes,aroundcheekredderthanusual,andlipspartedbyquick,breathing,relievedhisminduponthatpointso,takingcourage,hesatdownontheboot-jack,andbeggedpardonlikeaman. Now,Pollywasveryangry,andIthinkshehadarighttobebutshewasnotresentful,andafterthefirstflashwasover,shesoonbegantofeelbetteraboutit.Itwasn'teasytoforgivebut,asshelistenedtoTom'shonestvoice,gettinggruffwithremorsenowandthen,shecouldn'thardenherheartagainsthim,orrefusetomakeupwhenhesofranklyownedthatit“wasconfoundedmeantoreadherbookthatway.”Shelikedhiscomingandbeggingpardonatonceitwasahandsomethingtodosheappreciatedit,andforgavehiminherheartsometimebeforeshedidwithherlipsfor,totellthetruth,Pollyhadaspiceofgirlishmalice,andratherlikedtoseedomineeringTomeathumble-pie,justenoughtodohimgood,youknow.Shefeltthatatonementwasproper,andconsidereditnomorethanjustthatFanshoulddrenchahandkerchiefortwowithrepentanttears,andthatTomshouldsitonaveryuncomfortableseatandcallhimselfhardnamesforfiveortenminutesbeforesherelented. “Come,now,dosayawordtoafellow.I'mgettingtheworstofit,anywayforthere'sFan,cryinghereyesoutupstairs,andhereareyoustowedawayinadarkclosetasdumbasafish,andnobodybutmetobringyoubothround.I'dhavecutovertotheSmythesandgotmahometofixthings,onlyitlookedlikebackingoutofthescrapesoIdidn't,”saidTom,asalastappeal. PollywasgladtohearthatFanwascrying.Itwoulddohergoodbutshecouldn'thelpsofteningtoTom,whodidseeminapredicamentbetweentwoweepingdamsels.Alittlesmilebegantodimplethecheekthatwasn'thidden,andthenahandcameslowlyoutfromunderthecurlyhead,andwasstretchedtowardhimsilently.Tomwasjustgoingtogiveitaheartyshake,whenhesawaredmarkonthewrist,andknewwhatmadeit.Hisfacechanged,andhetookthechubbyhandsogently,thatPollypeepedtoseewhatitmeant. “Willyouforgivethat,too?”heasked,inawhisper,strokingtheredwrist. “Yes,itdon'thurtmuchnow.”AndPollydrewherhandaway,sorryhehadseenit. “Iwasabeast,that'swhatIwas!”saidTom,inatoneofgreatdisgust.Andjustatthatawkwardminutedowntumbledhisfather'soldbeaveroverhisheadandface,puttingacomicalquencheronhisself-reproaches.Ofcourse,neithercouldhelplaughingatthatandwhenheemerged,Pollywassittingup,lookingasmuchbetterforhershowerashedidforhismomentaryeclipse. “Fanfeelsdreadfully.Willyoukissandbefriends,ifItrotherdown?”askedTom,rememberinghisfellow-sinner. “I'llgotoher.”AndPollywhiskedoutoftheclosetassuddenlyasshehadwhiskedin,leavingTomsittingontheboot-jack,witharadiantcountenance. Howthegirlsmadeitupnooneeverknew.Butaftermuchtalkingandcrying,kissingandlaughing,thebreachwashealed,andpeacedeclared.Aslighthazestilllingeredintheairafterthestorm,forFannywasveryhumbleandtenderthateveningTomatriflepensive,butdistressinglypolite,andPollymagnanimouslyfriendlytoeveryoneforgenerousnaturesliketoforgive,andPollyenjoyedthepettingaftertheinsult,likeaveryhumangirl. Asshewasbrushingherhairatbedtimetherecameataponherdoorand,openingit,shebeheldnothingbutatallblackbottle,withastripofredflanneltiedrounditlikeacravat,andacocked-hatnoteonthecork.Insideweretheselines,writteninasprawlinghandwithveryblackink: DEARPOLLY,Opydilldockisfirst-rateforsprains.Youputalotontheflannelanddoupyourwrist,andIguessitwillbeallrightinthemorning.Willyoucomeasleigh-ridetomorrow?I'mawfulsorryIhurtyou. TOM