'Oh, indeed! May I ask who is your teacher?'
'I 've more than one; but Miss Mills is head teacher.'
'She instructs in good works; who gives the friendship lessons?'
'Such pleasant girls! I wish you knew them, Fan. So clever, and energetic, and kind, and happy, it always does me good to see them,' cried Polly, with a face full of enthusiasm.
'Is that all?' And Fan gave her a curious look of mingled disappointment and relief.
'There, I told you my doings would not interest you, and they don't; they sound flat and prosy after your brilliant adventures. Let 's change the subject,' said Polly, looking relieved herself.
'Dear me, which of our sweethearts sends us dainty bouquets of violets so early in the morning?' asked Fanny, suddenly spying the purple cluster in a graceful little vase on the piano.
'He sends me one every week; he knows I love them so,' and Polly's eyes turned that way full of pride and pleasure.
'I 'd no idea he was so devoted,' said Fanny, stooping to smell the flowers, and at the same time read a card that lay near them.
'You need n't plague me about it, now you know it. I never speak of our fondness for one another, because such things seem silly to other people. Will is n't all that Jimmy was to me; but he tries to be, and I love him dearly for it.'
'Will?' Fanny's voice quite startled Polly, it was so sharp and sudden, and her face grew red and pale all in a minute, as she upset the little vase with the start she gave.
'Yes, of course; who did you think I meant?' asked Polly, sopping up the water before it damaged her piano.
'Never mind; I thought you might be having a quiet little flirtation with somebody. I feel responsible, you know, because I told your mother I 'd look after you. The flowers are all right. My head aches so, I hardly know what I 'm doing this morning.'
Fanny spoke fast, and laughed uncomfortably, as she went back to the sofa, wondering if Polly had told her a lie. Polly seemed to guess at her thoughts as she saw the card, and turning toward her, she held it up, saying, with a conscious look in her eyes, 'You thought Mr. Sydney sent them? Well, you are mistaken, and the next time you want to know anything, please ask straight out. I like it better than talking at cross purposes.'
'Now, my dear, don't be angry; I was only teasing you in fun. Tom took it into his foolish head that something was going on, and I felt a natural interest, you know.'
'Tom! What does he know or care about my affairs?' demanded Polly.
'He met you two in the street pretty often, and being in a sentimental mood himself, got up a romance for you and Sydney.'
'I 'm much obliged to him for his interest, but it 's quite wasted, thank you.'
Fan's next proceeding gave her friend another surprise, for, being rather ashamed of herself, very much relieved, and quite at a loss what to say, she took refuge in an hysterical fit of tears, which changed Polly's anger into tenderness at once.
'Is that the trouble she has been hiding all winter? Poor dear, I wish I 'd known it sooner,' thought Polly, as she tried to soothe her with comfortable pats, sniffs of cologne and sympathizing remarks upon the subject of headache, carefully ignoring that other feminine affliction, the heartache.
'There, I feel better. I 've been needing a good cry for some time, and now I shall be all right. Never mind it, Polly, I 'm nervous and tired; I 've danced too much lately, and dyspepsia makes me blue;' and Fanny wiped her eyes and laughed.
'Of course it does; you need rest and petting, and here I 've been scolding you, when I ought to have been extra kind. Now tell me what I can do for you,' said Polly, with a remorseful face.
'Talk to me, and tell me all about yourself. You don't seem to have as many worries as other people. What's the secret, Polly?' And Fan looked up with wet eyes, and a wistful face at Polly, who was putting little dabs of cologne all over her head.
'Well,' said Polly, slowly, 'I just try to look on the bright side of things; that helps one amazingly. Why, you 've no idea how much goodness and sunshine you can get out of the most unpromising things, if you make the best of them.'
'I don't know how,' said Fan, despondently.
'You can learn; I did. I used to croak and fret dreadfully, and get so unhappy, I was n't fit for anything. I do it still more than I ought, but I try not to, and it gets easier, I find. Get atop of your troubles, and then they are half cured, Miss Mills says.'
'Everything is so contrary and provoking,' said Fanny, petulantly.
'Now what in the world have you to fret about?' asked Polly, rather anxiously.
'Quantities of things,' began Fan, and then stopped, for somehow she felt ashamed to own that she was afflicted because she could n't have a new set of furs, go to Paris in the spring, and make Mr. Sydney love her. She hunted up something more presentable, and said in a despairing tone, 'Well, mother is very poorly, Tom and Trix quarrel all the time, Maud gets more and more wilful every day, and papa is worried about his affairs.'
'A sad state of things, but nothing very desperate. Can't you lend a hand anywhere?
That might do good all round.'
'No; I have n't the talent for managing people, but I see what ought to be done.'
'Well, don't wail about it; keep yourself happy, if you can; it will help other people to see you cheerful.'
'Just what Tom said,'Keep jolly'; but, dear me, how can one, when everything is so stupid and tiresome?'
'If ever a girl needed work, it 's you!' cried Polly. 'You began to be a young lady so early, that you are tired of
