lse you like."

"I ain't going to dress up for nothing; I look so lovely, someone must
admire me. Take me down, Polly, and see if they don't call me 'a sweet
creature.'"

Tom looked so unutterably ridiculous as he tossed his curls and pranced,
that Polly went off into another gale of merriment; but even while she
laughed, she resolved not to let him mortify his sister.

"Now, then, get out of the way if you won't come; I 'm going down," said
Tom.

"No, you 're not."

"How will you help it, Miss Prim?"

"So." And Polly locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and nodded
at him defiantly.

Tom was a pepper-pot as to temper, and anything like opposition always
had a bad effect. Forgetting his costume, he strode up to Polly, saying,
with a threatening wag of the head, "None of that. I won't stand it."

"Promise not to plague Fan, and I 'll let you out."

"Won't promise anything. Give me that key, or I 'll make you."

"Now, Tom, don't be savage. I only want to keep you out of a scrape, for
Fan will be raging if you go. Take off her things, and I 'll give up."

Tom vouchsafed no reply, but marched to the other door, which was fast,
as Polly knew, looked out of the three-story window, and finding no
escape possible, came back with a wrathful face. "Will you give me that
key?"

"No, I won't," said Polly, valiantly.

"I 'm stronger than you are; so you 'd better hand over."

"I know you are; but it 's cowardly for a great boy like you to rob a
girl."

"I don't want to hurt you; but, by George! I won't stand this!"

Tom paused as Polly spoke, evidently ashamed of himself; but his temper
was up, and he would n't give in. If Polly had cried a little just
here, he would have yielded; unfortunately she giggled, for Tom's fierce
attitude was such a funny contrast to his dress that she could n't help
it. That settled the matter. No girl that ever lived should giggle at
him, much less lock him up like a small child. Without a word, he made
a grab at Polly's arm, for the hand holding the key was still in her,
pocket. With her other hand she clutched her frock, and for a minute
held on stoutly. But Tom's strong fingers were irresistible; rip went
the pocket, out came the hand, and with a cry of pain from Polly, the
key fell on the floor.

"It 's your own fault if you 're hurt. I did n't mean to," muttered Tom,
as he hastily departed, leaving Polly to groan over her sprained wrist.
He went down, but not into the pa