Tom saw how gladly Polly welcomed Jim and Kenneth, and he began to wonder if she really preferred a young boy's society to his. Polly and Jim were about the same age--not quite eighteen, while he--Tom, was almost twenty-four. Such a decrepit old age!
The evening Jim planned to visit Polly and take Kenneth along for Eleanor, Tom, to the surprise of his parents, spent the entire evening with them; but he was not very attentive to what his mother said, nor did he seem over-pleased with being at home.
Jim and Kenneth were noisy, active young college boys, and they furnished lots of fun that evening, of the energetic, "center-rush" kind. But Polly was relieved when they had said good-night and were gone.
Eleanor laughed at the way Jim "rough-housed" both girls when he tried to kiss them good-night, and Polly indignantly told him he would never be invited there again! Jim laughed and caught hold of Polly to shake her for such a threat, but he smacked her loudly on the lips, instead.
As the two girls went upstairs to retire, Polly said: "I'm sure Jim wouldn't have acted so silly if his big brother had been here!"
Eleanor then added: "We have such lovely evenings with Tom, that this sort of horse-play gets on my nerves!" Then she slyly watched her friend's expression to try and read her mind.
"I wonder why Tom never came in tonight?" said Polly.
"Jack Baxter met me this afternoon, and he says Tom goes uptown regularly, to see a girl. Jack shadowed him and knows exactly where the girl lives. But he didn't say I must not tell you," said Eleanor, confidentially. Neither did she add that she had heard the address of this "girl" and knew it to be Tom's home and mother.
Polly flushed, but said nonchalantly: "Poor Tom! He feels awfully bored with us girls, at times!"
"I should think so! especially if he came home for a visit with the idea of finding a nice girl to propose to. Now Jack thinks that Tom, with his good looks, his wonderful intelligence, and his family-tree, to say nothing of the Latimer fortune, ought to be able to take his pick of any New York girl that is looking for an ideal husband," remarked Eleanor, guilelessly.
Polly flashed her a look. "Since when has Jack Baxter dropped his maligning of Tom Latimer, and started to admire him?"