it just like hers, and I do hope it will prove a good, sweet, plummy one."
"Thank you," was all Tom said, as he smiled at the giver, but Polly knew that her present had pleased him more than the most elegant trifle she could have made.
"It ought to be good, for you beat it up yourself, Tom," cried Maud. "It was so funny to see you working away, and never guessing who the cake was for. I perfectly trembled every time you opened your mouth, for fear you'd ask some question about it. That was the reason Polly preached, and I kept talking when she was gone."
"Very stupid of me; but I forgot all about to-day. Suppose we cut it; I don't seem to care for anything else," said Tom, feeling no appetite, but bound to do justice to that cake, if he fell a victim to his gratitude.
"I hope the plums won't all be at the bottom," said Polly, as she rose to do the honors of the cake, by universal appointment.
"I've had a good many at the top already, you know," answered Tom, watching the operation with as much interest as if he had faith in the omen.
Cutting carefully, slice after slice fell apart; each firm and dark, spicy and rich, under the frosty rime above; and laying a specially large piece in one of grandma's quaint little china plates, Polly added the flowers and handed it to Tom, with a look that said a good deal, for, seeing that he remembered her sermon, she was glad to find that her allegory held good, in one sense at least. Tom's face brightened as he took it, and after an inspection which amused the others
