" He was fond of
her in his fashion, but he did n't take the trouble to show it, so
Maud worshipped him afar off, afraid to betray the affection that
no rebuff could kill or cool.
One snowy Sunday afternoon Tom lay on the sofa in his favorite
attitude, reading "Pendennis" for the fourth time, and smoking like
a chimney as he did so. Maud stood at the window watching the
falling flakes with an anxious countenance, and presently a great
sigh broke from her.
"Don't do that again, chicken, or you 'll blow me away. What's the
matter?" asked Tom, throwing down his book with a yawn that
threatened dislocation.
"I 'm afraid I can't go to Polly's," answered Maud, disconsolately.
"Of course you can't; it 's snowing hard, and father won't be home
with the carriage till this evening. What are you always cutting off
to Polly's for?"
"I like it; we have such nice times, and Will is there, and we bake
little johnny-cakes in the baker before the fire, and they sing, and it
is so pleasant.
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