Miss Polly smiled, but she looked a little troubled, too, and the color deepened in her cheeks. “I’m afraid you will think me a very foolish person,” she said, “but I’ll tell you all about it from the beginning, and then perhaps you will understand a little better. Tom and I were born in a Vermont village, where our father was minister of the Congregational Church for a good many years. My mother died when we were both little, and we were brought up by an old housekeeper, who was devoted to us. Tom is two years older than I, and ever since I can remember, I have loved him better than any one else in the world. My father was a good man, but rather stern and unapproachable, and not particularly fond of children. Tom was a bright boy, always full of fun and mischief, but he didn’t care very much about study, and my father--who was a great student himself--was constantly reproaching him for not doing better at school. He wanted Tom to study for the ministry, but the boy had no taste for preaching. He went to college to please Father, but at the end of his sophomore year he had so many conditions to make up that Father was very angry, and refused to let him go back the next term, so Tom decided to go West and try to make his fortune. That was eight years ago, and he was just twenty then. He had rather a hard time at first, but after a year or two, he settled in Chicago, where he has lived ever since. He came home twice for a visit. The last time was three years and a half ago, when Father died. Father wasn’t a rich man--country ministers never are rich men--but all he had was divided equally between Tom and me. Tom wouldn’t take a penny. He said he was quite able to support himself, and that I must have all Father’s money. It was very generous of him, and I tried my best to make him take his share, but he is an obstinate boy, and when he has once made up his mind to do a thing, nothing in this world will change him. So in the end I had to give in, and he went back to Chicago. He wanted me to go with him, but I’d set my heart on coming to New York to study music and give lessons. Of course, I had to leave the parsonage, where Tom and I were born, and after spending the summer with some friends, I came here to New York in the fall and started work. It wasn’t quite as easy as I had expected, but I managed to get a few pupils, and the money I earned paid for my own lessons. I was very happy all that winter, and then--and then I met with my accident.” Miss Polly paused for a moment, and the look in her eyes was very sad, but when she went on again, her voice was as cheerful as ever.