He was gone before she could do anything but look up at him with a remorseful face, and she walked on, feeling that the first and perhaps the only lover she would ever have had read his answer and accepted it in silence. She did not know what else he had read, and comforted herself with the thought that he did not care for her very much, since he took the first rebuff so quickly.
Polly did not return to her favourite walk till she learned from Minnie that “Uncle” had really left town, and then she found that his friendly company and conversation was what had made the way so pleasant, after all. She sighed over the perversity of things in general, and croaked a little over her trials in particular, but on the whole got over her loss better than she expected, for soon she had other sorrows besides her own to comfort, and such work does a body more good than floods of regretful tears, or hours of sentimental lamentation.
She shunned Fanny for a day or two, but gained nothing by it, for that young lady, hearing of Sydney’s sudden departure, could not rest till she discovered the cause of it, and walked in upon Polly one afternoon just when the dusk made it a propitious hour for tender confidences.
“What have you been doing with yourself lately?” asked Fanny, composing herself, with her back towards the rapidly waning light.
“Wagging to and fro as usual. What’s the news with you?” answered Polly, feeling that something was coming, and rather glad to have it over and done with.
“Nothing particular. Trix treats Tom shamefully, and he bears it like a lamb. I tell him to break his engagement, and not be worried so; but he won’t, because she has been jilted once, and he thinks it’s such a mean thing to do.”
“Perhaps she’ll jilt him.”
“I’ve no doubt she will, if anything better comes along. But Trix is getting passée, and I shouldn’t wonder if she kept him to his word, just out of perversity, if nothing else.”
“Poor Tom, what a fate!” said Polly with what was meant to be a comical groan; but it sounded so tragical that she saw it wouldn’t pass, and hastened to hide the failure by saying, with a laugh, “If you call Trix passée at twenty-three, what shall we all be at twenty-five?”
“Utterly done with and laid upon the shelf. I feel so already, for I don’t get half the attention I used to have, and the other night I heard Maud and Grace wondering why those old girls ‘didn’t stay at home, and give them a chance’.”
“How is Maudie?”
“Pretty well; but she worries me by her queer tastes and notions. She loves to go into the kitchen and mess, she hates to study, and said right before the Vincents, that she should think it would be great fun to be a beggar-girl, to go round with a basket, it must be so interesting to see what you’d get.”
“Minnie said the other day she wished she was a pigeon, so she could paddle in the puddles, and not fuss about rubbers.”
“By the way, when is her uncle coming back?” asked Fanny, who couldn’t wait any longer, and joyfully seized the opening Polly made for her.
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Nor care, I suppose, you hard-hearted thing.”
“Why, Fan, what do you mean?”