You ain't afraid, are you ?" asked Tom, with imploring look, for he did n't like the idea of being sewed a bit.
Polly was just going to shrink away, saying, "Oh I can't!" when she remembered that Tom once called her a coward.

Here was a chance to prove that she was n't; besides, poor Tom had no one else to help him; so she came up to the sofa where he lay, and nodded reassuringly, as she put a soft little hand on either side of the damaged head.
"You are a trump, Polly," whispered Tom.

Then he set his teeth, clenched his hands, lay quite still, and bore it like a man.

It was all over in a minute or two, and when he had had a glass of wine, and was nicely settled on his bed, he felt pretty comfortable, in spite of the pain in his head; and being ordered to keep quiet, he said, "Thank you ever so much, Polly," and watched her with a grateful face as she crept away.
He had to keep the house for a week, and laid about looking very interesting with a great black patch on his forehead.

Every one 'petted him;' for the doctor said, that if the blow had been an inch nearer the temple, it would have been fatal, and the thought of losing him so suddenly made bluff old Tom very precious all at once.