“I know he’d rather have his son go to him and tell the truth, like a man, instead of sending a girl to do what he is afraid to do himself.”

If Polly had suddenly boxed his ears, Tom couldn’t have looked more taken aback than by that burst. He looked at her excited face, seemed to understand the meaning of it, and remembered all at once that he was trying to hide behind a girl. He turned scarlet, said shortly, “Come back, Polly,” and walked straight out of the room, looking as if going to instant execution, for poor Tom had been taught to fear his father, and had not entirely outgrown the dread.

Polly sat down, looking both satisfied and troubled. “I hope I did right,” she said to herself. “I couldn’t bear to have him shrink and seem cowardly. He isn’t, only he didn’t think how it seemed to me, and I don’t wonder he was a little afraid, Mr. Shaw is so severe with the poor fellow. Oh, dear, what should we do if Will got into such scrapes! Thank goodness, he’s poor, and can’t; I’m so glad of that!”

Then she sat silent beside the half-open door, hearing the murmur of Tom’s voice across the hall, and hoping, with all her heart, that he wouldn’t have a very hard time. He seemed to tell his story rapidly and steadily, without interruption, to the end; then Polly head Mr. Shaw’s deeper voice say a few words, at which Tom uttered a loud exclamation, as if taken by surprise. Polly couldn’t distinguish a word, so she kept her seat, wondering anxiously what was going on between the two men. A sudden pause seemed to follow Tom’s ejaculation, then Mr. Shaw talked a long time in a low, earnest tone, so different from the angry one Polly had expected to hear, that it made her nervous, for Mr. Shaw usually “blew Tom up first, and forgave him afterward”, as Maud said. Presently Tom’s voice was heard, apparently asking eager questions, to which brief replies were given. Then a dead silence fell upon the room, and nothing was heard but the spring rain softly falling out of doors. All of a sudden she heard a movement, and Tom’s voice say audibly,—

“Let me bring Polly,” and he appeared, looking so pale and miserable that Polly was frightened.

“Go and say something to him, I can’t; poor old father, if I’d only known,” and to Polly’s utter dismay, Tom threw himself into a chair, and laid his head down on the table, as if he had got a blow that was too much for him.

“Oh, Tom, what is it?” cried Polly, hurrying to him, so full of fears she dared not speak.

Without looking up, Tom answered, in a smothered voice,

“Failed; all gone to smash; and to-morrow everyone will know it.”

Polly held on to the back of Tom’s chair for a minute, for the news took her breath away, and she felt as if the world was coming to an end, “failed” was such a vaguely dreadful word to her.

“Is it very bad?” she asked softly, feeling as if anything was better than to stand still and see Tom so wretched.

“Yes; he means to give up everything. He’s done his best; but it can’t be staved off any longer, and it’s all up with him.”

“Oh, I wish I had a million to give him!” cried Polly, clasping her hands, with the tears running down her cheeks. “How does he bear it, Tom?”

“Like a man, Polly; and I’m proud of him,” said Tom, looking up, all red and excited with the emotions he was trying to keep under. “Everything has been against him, and he has fought all alone to stand the pressure, but it’s too much for him, and he’s given in. It’s an honourable failure, mind you, and no one can say a word against him. I’d like to see ’em try it!” and Tom clenched his hands as if it would be an immense relief to him to thrash half a dozen aspersers of his father’s honest name.