"Had I known you were so deeply interested in the plans of young Latimer, I would have told you immediately," said Jack, with sarcasm born of jealousy in his voice. Polly refused to answer him, and immediately asked Mrs. Fabian to excuse her from dinner as she wished to dress for the evening. The rest of the family finished the meal with the uncomfortable sense of Jack's having lost caste in Polly's estimation. He felt it himself, and it certainly did not tend to make him more agreeable that evening. As soon after dinner as could be politely managed, Jack spoke of a theatre engagement and excused himself. His hostesses felt easier when the door slammed upon him, for they dreaded having Tom announced while his rival was there, and then have the whole evening spoiled by both young men glowering at each other. While Eleanor and Nancy ran upstairs to dress for the evening, the former whispered: "If Tom remains in New York all this winter, I bet he'll _get_ Polly before he goes back to the mines, or else he'll 'cook his goose' for all time!" Nancy laughed merrily, and said: "No goose will be cooked if Polly knows it! But I'll wager you a box of candy, Nolla, that Tom will _not_ get his girl before he goes back to the mines." "All right, Nanc! That's a wager; a five-pound box of the best _bon bons_, that Tom and Polly will be engaged before the end of this winter season!" CHAPTER XIII TOM MEANS BUSINESS Polly's friends had not completed their dressing when Tom was announced, but she was waiting in the cozy library; so Tom crossed the long formal parlor in a few strides, when he caught sight of her in the softly shaded light of the floor-lamp. "Polly! Oh, but I'm glad to see you again!" breathed he as he caught both hands and devoured her smiles with his eyes. "I should hope you would be glad! Isn't everyone I know glad to see me after they have been absent a long time?" laughed Polly, in a matter-of-fact tone. But Tom glanced hastily about the room. Then he quite unexpectedly leaned forward and caught her face between his palms. "Polly Brewster, I'm going to salute you with a brotherly kiss!" whispered Tom, and immediately, he pressed a kiss upon her red lips--but Polly felt sure it was _not_ like John's kisses. She tried to free her head from his powerful hands, but he laughed masterfully and held her under the light while he gazed into her eyes. Finally Polly felt herself growing warm and flushed, and to stop his look she closed her eyes and began kicking at his shins. With a happy laugh, Tom freed her face and picked her up in his arms. In three long strides he was over at the divan where he placed her, sitting upright. Then he sat down beside her. "Why--Tom Latimer!" gasped Polly, angrily, trying to rearrange her hair which had become tumbled in the fray.