His mother looked over at him, and slipping out of her
seat, went over to him. "Any room here, Tom, for mother?" she said.
"Oh,--ah,--I should say so!" Tom slipped out, gave her the window seat,
then flew back.
"Now, this is comfy," observed Mrs. Selwyn, as the train sped on. "Tom,
see here!"
"What's up, little mother?" asked Tom, in surprise, at her unusual
manner.
"It's just this, Tom. You know we are going to Chamonix and up the
_Mer de Glace_ with Mr. King's party."
Tom bobbed his head, not allowing himself to exclaim, "But that will be
only a short journey, now, and we must soon say 'good-by.'"
"Well, I've been thinking that I should like to go on to Geneva, and to
Paris," continued Mrs. Selwyn, "only you dislike Paris so much, Tom,"
she added.
"Oh, you're the bulliest--I mean--excuse me--you're no end a brick--oh,
I mean--I can't say what I mean," brought up Tom, in despair. And he
ran one long arm around her neck very much to the detriment of her neat
collar.
"Then you can overcome your dislike to Paris enough to go there?" asked
his mother, with a little twinkle in her eye.
"My dislike!" roared Tom, "O dear me!" as everybody looked around.
"Why, I just love Paris!" he finished in an awful whisper, close to the
plain, black bonnet.
When the news was circulated, as it was pretty soon, that the party was
not to be broken into at all till Paris was a completed story, the
jubilation was such as to satisfy even Tom.
Pages:
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259