“Tom, I’ll make a bargain with you,” cried Fanny, eagerly. “It wasn’t my fault that Gus and Frank were there, and I couldn’t help their speaking to me. I do as well as I can, and papa needn’t be angry; for I behave ever so much better than some of the girls. Don’t I, Polly?”

“Bargain?” observed Tom, with an eye to business.

“If you won’t go and make a fuss, telling what you’d no right to hear—it was so mean to hide and listen; I should think you’d be ashamed of it!—I’ll help you tease for your velocipede, and won’t say a word against it when mamma and granny beg papa not to let you have it.”

“Will you?” and Tom paused to consider the offer in all its bearings.

“Yes, and Polly will help; won’t you?”

“I’d rather not have anything to do with it; but I’ll be quiet, and not do any harm.”

“Why won’t you?” asked Tom, curiously.

“Because it seems like deceiving.”

“Well, papa needn’t be so fussy,” said Fan, petulantly.

“After hearing about that Carrie, and the rest, I don’t wonder he is fussy. Why don’t you tell right out, and not do it any more, if he don’t want you to?” said Polly, persuasively.

“Do you go and tell your father and mother everything right out?”

“Yes, I do; and it saves ever so much trouble.”

“Are you not afraid of them?”

“Of course I’m not. It’s hard to tell sometimes; but it’s so comfortable when it’s over.”

“Let’s!” was Tom’s brief advice.

“Mercy me! what a fuss about nothing!” said Fanny, ready to cry with vexation.

“’Tisn’t nothing. You know you are forbidden to go gallivanting round with those chaps, and that’s the reason you’re in a pucker now. I won’t make any bargain, and I will,” returned Tom, seized with a sudden fit of moral firmness.

“Will you if I promise never, never to do so any more?” asked Fanny, meekly; for when Thomas took matters into his own hands, his sister usually submitted in spite of herself.

“I’ll think about it; and if you behave, maybe I won’t do it at all. I can watch you better than papa can; so if you try it again, it’s all up with you, miss,” said Tom, finding it impossible to resist the pleasure of tyrannizing a little when he got the chance.

“She won’t; don’t plague her any more, and she will be good to you when you get into scrapes,” answered Polly, with her arm round Fan.

“I never do; and if I did, I shouldn’t ask a girl to help me out.”

“Why not? I’d ask you in a minute, if I was in trouble,” said Polly, in her confiding way.

“Would you? Well, I’d pull you through as sure as my name’s Tom Shaw. Now, then, don’t slip, Polly,” and Mr. Thomas helped them out with unusual politeness, for that friendly little speech gratified him. He