"Bright boy! here 's a plum for you," and Polly threw a plump
raisin into his mouth.
"Put in lots, won't you? I 'm rather fond of plum-cake," observed
Tom, likening himself to Hercules with the distaff, and finding his
employment pleasant, if not classical.
"I always do, if I can; there 's nothing I like better than to shovel in
sugar and spice, and make nice, plummy cake for people. It 's one
of the few things I have a gift for."
"You 've hit it this time, Polly; you certainly have a gift for putting
a good deal of both articles into your own and other people's lives,
which is lucky, as, we all have to eat that sort of cake, whether we
like it or not," observed Tom, so soberly that Polly opened her
eyes, and Maud exclaimed, "I do believe he 's preaching."
"Feel as if I could sometimes," continued Tom; then his eye fell
upon the dimples in Polly's elbows, and he added, with a laugh,
"That 's more in your line, ma'am; can't you give us a sermon?"
"A short one.
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