"Don't you think it would be a good plan?"
"No, I don't."
"Why not? Don't you think he'd rather have it told him nicely by you, than blurted out as I always do blurt things?"
"I know he'd rather have his son go to him and tell the truth, like a man, instead of sending a girl to do what he is afraid to do himself."
If Polly had suddenly boxed his ears, Tom couldn't have looked more taken aback than by that burst. He looked at her excited face, seemed to understand the meaning of it, and remembered all at once that he was trying to hide behind a girl. He turned scarlet, said shortly, "Come back, Polly," and walked straight out of the room, looking as if going to instant execution, for poor Tom had been taught to fear his father, and had not entirely outgrown the dread.
Polly sat down, looking both satisfied and troubled. "I hope I did right," she said to herself. "I couldn't bear to have him shirk and seem cowardly. He isn't, only he didn't think how it seemed to me, and I don't wonder he was a little afraid, Mr. Shaw is so severe with the poor fellow. Oh, dear, what should we do if Will got into such scrapes. Thank goodness, he's poor, and can't; I'm so glad of that!"
Then she sat silent beside the half-open door, hearing the murmur of Tom's voice across the hall, and hoping, with all her heart, that he wouldn't have a very hard time. He seemed to tell his story rapidly and steadily, without interruption, to the end; then Polly heard Mr. Shaw's deeper voice say a few words, at which Tom uttered a loud exclamation, as
