Seizing them wrong side-up, Tom produced three little bouquets, all different in color, size, and construction.
'Why, papa! how very kind of you,' cried Fanny, who had not dared to receive even a geranium leaf since the late scrape.
'Your father used to be a very gallant young gentleman, once upon a time,' said Mrs.
Shaw, with a simper.
'Ah, Tom, it 's a good sign when you find time to think of giving pleasure to your little girls!' And grandma patted her son's bald head as if he was n't more than eighteen.
Thomas Jr. had given a somewhat scornful sniff at first; but when grandma praised his father, the young man thought better of the matter, and regarded the flowers with more respect, as he asked, 'Which is for which?'
'Guess,' said Mr. Shaw, pleased that his unusual demonstration had produced such an effect.
The largest was a regular hothouse bouquet, of tea-rosebuds, scentless heath, and smilax; the second was just a handful of sweet-peas and mignonette, with a few cheerful pansies, and one fragrant little rose in the middle; the third, a small posy of scarlet verbenas, white feverfew, and green leaves.
'Not hard to guess. The smart one for Fan, the sweet one for Polly, and the gay one for Pug. Now, then, catch hold, girls.' And Tom proceeded to deliver the nosegays, with as much grace as could be expected from a youth in a new suit of clothes and very tight boots.
'That finishes you off just right, and is a very pretty attention of papa's. Now run down, for the bell has rung; and remember, not to dance too often, Fan; be as quiet as you can, Tom; and. Maud, don't eat too much supper. Grandma will attend to things, for my poor nerves won't allow me to come down.'
With that, Mrs. Shaw dismissed them, and the four descended to receive the first batch of visitors, several little girls who had been asked for the express purpose of keeping Maud out of her sister's way. Tom had likewise been propitiated, by being allowed to bring his three bosom friends, who went by the school-boy names of Rumple, Sherry, and Spider.
'They will do to make up sets, as gentlemen are scarce; and the party is for Polly, so I must have some young folks on her account,' said Fanny, when sending out her invitations.
Of course, the boys came early, and stood about in corners, looking as if they had more arms and legs than they knew what to do with. Tom did his best to be a good host; but ceremony oppressed his spirits, and he was forced to struggle manfully with the wild desire to propose a game of leap-frog, for the long drawing-rooms, cleared for dancing, tempted him sorely.
Polly sat where she was told, and suffered bashful agonies as Fan introduced very fine young ladies and very stiff young gentlemen, who all said about the same civil things, and then appeared to forget all about her. When the first dance was called, Fanny cornered Tom, who had been dodging her, for he knew what she wanted, and said, in an earnest whisper: 'Now, Tom, you must dance this with Polly. You are the young gentleman of the house, and it 's only proper that you should ask your company first.'
'Polly don't care for manners. I hate dancing; don't know how. Let go my jacket, and don't bother, or I 'll cut away altogether,' growled Tom, daunted by the awful prospect of opening the ball with Polly.
'I 'll never forgive you if you do. Come, be clever, and help me, there 's a dear. You know we both were dreadfully rude to Polly, and agreed that we 'd be as kind and civil to her as ever we could. I shall keep my word, and see that she is n't slighted at my party, for I want her to love me, and go home feeling all right.'
This artful speech made an impression on the rebellious Thomas, who glanced at Polly's happy face, remembered his promise, and, with a groan, resolved to do his duty.
'Well, I 'll take her; but I shall come to grief, for I don't know anything about your old dances.'
'Yes, you do. I 've taught you the steps a dozen times. I 'm going to begin with a redowa, because the girls like it, and it 's better fun than square dances. Now, put on your gloves, and go and ask Polly like a gentleman.'
'Oh, thunder!' muttered Tom. And having split the detested gloves in dragging them on, he nerved himself for the effort, walked up to Polly, made a stiff bow, stuck out his elbow, and said, solemnly, 'May I have the pleasure, Miss Milton?'
He did it as much like the big fellows as he could, and expected that Polly would be impressed. But she was n't a bit; for after a surprised look she laughed in his face, and took him by the hand, saying, heartily, 'Of course you may; but don't be a goose, Tommy.'
'Well, Fan told me to be elegant, so I tried to,' whispered Tom, adding, as he clutched his partner with a somewhat desperate air, 'Hold on tight, and we 'll get through somehow.'
The music struck up, and away they went; Tom hopping one way and Polly the other, in a most ungraceful manner.
'Keep time to the music,' gasped Polly.
'Can't; never could,' returned Tom.
'Keep step with me, then, and don't tread on my toes,' pleaded Polly.
'Never mind; keep bobbing, and we 'll come right by and by,' muttered Tom, giving his unfortunate partner a sudden whisk, which nearly landed both on the floor.
But they did not 'get right by and by'; for Tom, In his frantic efforts to do his duty, nearly annihilated poor Polly. He tramped, he bobbed, he skated, he twirled her to the right, dragged her to the left, backed her up against people and furniture, trod on her feet, rumpled her dress, and made a spectacle of himself generally. Polly was much disturbed; but as everyone else was flying about also, she bore it as long as she could, knowing that Tom had made a martyr of himself, and feeling grateful to him for the sacrifice.
'Oh, do stop now; this is dreadful!' cried Polly, breathlessly, after a few wild turns.
'Is n't it?' said Tom, wiping his red face with such an air of intense relief, that Polly had not the heart to scold him, but said, 'Thank you,' and dropped into a chair exhausted.
'I know I 've made a guy of myself; but Fan insisted on it, for fear you 'd be offended if I did n't go the first dance with you,' said Tom, remorsefully, watching Polly as she settled the bow of her crushed sash, which Tom had used as a sort of handle by which to turn and twist her; 'I can do the Lancers tip-top; but you won't ever want to dance with me any more,' he added, as he began to fan her so violently, that her hair flew about as if in a gale of wind.
