'Well, is n't she?'
'Not a bit of it. I thought she was at one time, and expected every day to have her come in with a long face, and say she could n't stand it. But somehow, lately, she is always bright and happy, seems to like her work, and don't have the tired, worried look she used to at first. The three months are out, so pay up, Tommy.'
'All right, what will you have?'
'You may make it gloves. I always need them, and papa looks sober when I want money.'
There was a minute's pause as Fan returned to her practising, and Tom relapsed into the reverie he was enjoying seated astride of a chair, with his chin on his folded arms.
'Seems to me Polly don't come here as often as she used to,' he said, presently.
'No, she seems to be very busy; got some new friends, I believe, old ladies, sewing-girls, and things of that sort. I miss her, but know she 'll get tired of being goody, and will come back to me before long.'
'Don't be too sure of that, ma'am.' Something in Tom's tone made Fan turn round, and ask, 'What do you mean?'
'Well, it strikes me that Sydney is one of Polly's new friends. Have n't you observed that she is uncommonly jolly, and don't that sort of thing account for it?'
'Nonsense!' said Fanny, sharply.
'Hope it is,' coolly returned Tom.
'What put it into your head?' demanded Fanny, twirling round again so that her face was hidden.
'Oh, well, I keep meeting Syd and Polly circulating in the same directions; she looks as if she had found something uncommonly nice, and he looks as if all creation was getting Pollyfied pretty rapidly. Wonder you have n't observed it.'
'I have.'
It was Tom's turn to look surprised now, for Fanny's voice sounded strange to him. He looked at her steadily for a minute, but saw only a rosy ear and a bent head. A cloud passed over his face, and he leaned his chin on his arm again with a despondent whistle, as he said to himself, 'Poor Fan! Both of us in a scrape at once.'
'Don't you think it would be a good thing?' asked Fanny, after playing a bar or two, very badly.
'Yes, for Syd.'
'Not for Polly? Why, he 's rich, and clever, and better than most of you good-for-nothing fellows. What can the girl expect?'
'Can't say, but I don't fancy the match myself.'
'Don't be a dog in the manger, Tom.' 'Bless your little heart, I only take a brotherly sort of interest in Polly. She 's a capital girl, and she ought to marry a missionary, or one of your reformer fellows, and be a shining light of some sort. I don't think setting up for a fine lady would suit her.'
'I think it would, and I hope she 'll have the chance,' said Fanny, evidently making an effort to speak kindly.
'Good for you, Fan!' and Tom gave an emphatic nod, as if her words meant more than she suspected 'Mind you,' he added, 'I don't know anything, and only fancied there might be some little flirtation going on. But I dare say it 's nothing.'
'Time will show.' Then Fan began to sing, and Tom's horse came, so he departed with the very unusual demonstration of a gentle pat on the head, as he said kindly, 'That 's right, my dear, keep jolly.' It was n't an elegant way of expressing sympathy, but it was hearty, and Fan thanked him for it, though she only said, 'Don't break your neck, Tommy.'
When he was gone, Fan's song ended as suddenly as it began, and she sat thinking, with varying expressions of doubt and trouble passing rapidly across her face.
'Well, I can't do anything but wait!' she said, at last, slamming the music-book together with a desperate look. 'Yes, I can,' she added, a minute after, 'it 's Polly's holiday. I can go and see her, and if there is anything in it I shall find it out.'
Fanny dropped her face into her hands, with a little shiver, as she said that; then got up, looking as pale and resolute as if going to meet some dreadful doom, and putting on her things, went away to Polly's as fast as her dignity would allow.
Saturday morning was Polly's clearing-up day, and Fan found her with a handkerchief tied over her head, and a big apron on, just putting the last touches to the tidy little room, which was as fresh and bright as water, air, and a pair of hands could make it.
'All ready for company. I 'll just whisk off my regimentals, and Polly, the maid, becomes Polly, the missis. It was lovely of you to come early; take off your things. Another new bonnet? you extravagant wretch! How is your mother and Maudie? It 's a nice day, and we 'll have a walk, won't we?'
By the time Polly's welcome was uttered, she had got Fan on the little sofa beside her, and was smiling at her in such an infectious manner, that Fan could n't help smiling back.
'I came to see what you have been doing with yourself lately. You don't come and report, and I got anxious about you,' said Fanny, looking into the clear eyes before her.
'I 've been so busy; and I knew you would n't care to hear about my doings, for they are n't the sort you like,' answered Polly.
'Your lessons did n't use to take up all your time. It 's my private opinion that you are taking as well as giving lessons, miss,' said Fan, putting on a playfully stern air, to hide her real anxiety.
'Yes, I am,' answered Polly, soberly.
'In what? Love?'
A quick color came to Polly's cheeks, as she laughed, and said, looking away, 'No; friendship and good works.'
