"
"They are safe enough. Father has n't touched mother's money; he
'could n't rob his girls,' he said, and that 's all safe for 'em. Is n't he
a trump, Polly?" And Tom's face shone with pride, even while his
lips would twitch with a tenderer feeling.
"If I could only do anything to help," cried Polly, oppressed with
her own powerlessness.
"You can. Go and be good to him; you know how; he needs it
enough, all alone there. I can't do it, for I 'm only a curse instead of
a comfort to him."
"How did he take your news?" asked Polly, who, for a time, had
forgotten the lesser trouble in the greater.
"Like a lamb; for when I 'd done, he only said, 'My poor lad, we
must bear with one another.' and then told his story."
"I 'm glad he was kind," began Polly, in a soothing tone; but Tom
cried out, remorsefully, "That 's what knocks me over! Just when I
ought to be a pride and a prop to him, I bring him my debts and
disgrace, and he never says a word of blame. It 's no use, I can't
stand it!" and Tom's head went down again with something very
like a sob, that would come in spite of manful efforts to keep it
back, for the poor fellow had the warmest heart that ever was, and
all the fine waistcoats outside could n't spoil it.
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