I 'm a pretty poor affair, Polly, but I 'm not mean enough to do that, while I 've got a conscience and a pair of hands." A rough speech, but it pleased Polly better than the smoothest Tom had ever made in her hearing, for something in his face and voice told her that the friendly act had roused a nobler sentiment than gratitude, making the cancelled obligations of the boy, debts of honor to the man.
"What will you do, Tom ?" "I 'll tell you; may I sit here ?" And Tom took the low footstool that always stood near grandma's old chair.

"I 've had so many plans in my head lately, that sometimes it seems as if it would split," continued the poor fellow, rubbing his tired forehead, as if to polish up his wits.

"I 've thought seriously of going to California, Australia, or some out-of-the-way place, where men get rich in a hurry." "Oh, no!" cried Polly, putting out her hand as it to keep him, and then snatching it back again before he could turn round.
"It would be hard on mother and the girls, I suppose; besides, I don't quite like it myself; looks as if I shirked and ran away." "So it does," said Polly, decidedly.
"Well, you see I don't seem to find anything to do unless I turn clerk, and I don't think that would suit.

The fact is, I could n't stand it here, where I 'm known.

It would be easier to scratch gravel on a railroad, with a gang of Paddies, than to sell pins to my friends and neighbors.