plain, home-like names, such as Will, Ned, or Tom. No, no, I can never care for him, and it’s no use to try!” The exclamation broke from Polly as if a sudden trouble had seized her, and laying her head down on her knees, she sat motionless for many minutes.

When she looked up, her face wore an expression which no one had ever seen on it before; a look of mingled pain and patience, as if some loss had come to her, and left the bitterness of regret behind.

“I won’t think of myself, or try to mend one mistake by making another,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll do what I can for Fan, and not stand between her and a chance of happiness. Let me see, how can I begin? I won’t walk with him any more; I’ll dodge and go roundabout ways, so that we can’t meet. I never had much faith in the remarkable coincidence of his always happening home to dinner just as I go to give the Roths their lesson. The fact is, I like to meet him, I am glad to be seen with him, and put on airs, I dare say, like a vain goose as I am. Well, I won’t do it any more, and that will spare Fan one affliction. Poor dear, how I must have worried her all this time, and never guessed it. She hasn’t been quite as kind as ever; but when she got sharp, I fancied it was dyspepsia. Oh, me! I wish the other trouble could be cured as easily as this.”

Here puss showed an amiable desire to forgive and forget, and Polly took her up, saying aloud,—

“Puttel, when missis abuses you, it’s dyspepsia; play, and don’t bear malice, because it’s a very trying disease, my dear.”

Then, going back to her thoughts, she rambled on again,

“If he doesn’t take that hint, I will give him a stronger one, for I will not have matters come to a crisis, though I can’t deny that my wicked vanity strongly tempts me to try and ‘bag a bird’, just for the excitement and credit of the thing. Polly, I’m ashamed of you! What would your blessed mother say to hear such expressions from you? I’d write and tell her all the worry, only it wouldn’t do any good, and would only trouble her. I’ve no right to tell Fan’s secrets, and I’m ashamed to tell mine. No, I’ll leave mother in peace, and fight it out alone. I do think Fan would suit him excellently by and by. He has known her all her life, and has a good influence over her. Love would do so much towards making her what she might be, it’s a shame to have the chance lost just because he happens to see me. I should think she’d hate me; but I’ll show her that she needn’t, and do all I can to help her; for she has been so good to me, nothing shall ever make me forget that. It is a delicate and dangerous task, but I guess I can manage it; at any rate I’ll try, and have nothing to reproach myself with if things do go ‘contrary’.”

What Polly thought of, as she lay back in her chair, with her eyes shut, and a hopeless look on her face, is none of our business, though we might feel a wish to know what caused a tear to gather slowly from time to time under her lashes, and roll down on Puttel’s Quaker-coloured coat. Was it regret for the conquest she relinquished, was it sympathy for her friend, or was it an uncontrollable overflow of feelings, as she read some sad or tender passage of the little romance which she kept hid away in her own heart?

On Monday, Polly began the “delicate and dangerous task”. Instead of going to her pupils by way of the park, and the pleasant streets adjoining, she took a roundabout route, through back streets, and thus escaped Mr. Sydney, who, as usual, came home to dinner very early that day, and looked disappointed because he nowhere saw the bright face in the modest bonnet. Polly kept this up for a week, and by carefully avoiding the Shaws’ house during calling hours, she saw nothing of Mr. Sydney, who, of course, didn’t visit her at Miss Mills’. Minnie happened to be poorly that week, and took no lessons, so uncle Syd was deprived of his last hope, and looked as if his allowance of sunshine had been suddenly cut off.

Now as Polly was by no means a perfect creature, I am free to confess that the old temptation assailed her more than once that week, for when the first excitement of the dodging reform had subsided, she missed the pleasant little interviews that used to put a certain flavour of romance into her dull, hard- working days. She liked Mr. Sydney very much, for he had always been kind and friendly since the


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