“That little romance runs smoothly so far; I hope it may to the
end,” said Polly heartily as she watched the lad tramp away,
whistling as blithely as if his pleasurable emotions must find a
vent, or endanger the buttons on the round jacket; while the girl
pranced on her own doorstep, as if practising for the joyful dance
which she had promised not to forget.
A little farther on Polly passed a newly engaged couple whom she
knew, walking arm in arm for the first time, both wearing that
proud yet conscious look which is so delightful to behold upon the
countenances of these temporarily glorified beings.
“How happy they seem; oh, dear!” said Polly, and trudged on,
wondering if her turn would ever come and fearing that it was
impossible.
A glimpse of a motherly-looking lady entering a door, received by
a flock of pretty children, who cast themselves upon mamma and
her parcels with cries of rapture, did Polly good; and when, a
minute after she passed a gray old couple walking placidly
together in the sunshine, she felt better still, and was glad to see
such a happy ending to the romance she had read all down the
street.
As if the mischievous little god wished to take Polly at a
disadvantage, or perhaps to give her another chance, just at that
instant Mr. Sydney appeared at her side. How he got there was
never very clear to Polly, but there he was, flushed, and a little out
of breath, but looking so glad to see her that she had n’t the heart to
be stiff and cool, as she had fully intended to be when they met.
“Very warm, is n’t it?” he said when he had shaken hands and
fallen into step, just in the old way.
“You seem to find it so.” And Polly laughed, with a sudden sparkle
in her eyes. She really could n’t help it, it was so pleasant to see
him again, just when she was feeling so lonely.
“Have you given up teaching the Roths?” asked Sydney, changing
the subject.
“No.”
“Do you go as usual?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it ‘s a mystery to me how you get there.”
“As much as it is to me how you got here so suddenly.”
“I saw you from the Shaws’ window and took the liberty of running
after you by the back street,” he said, laughing.
“That is the way I get to the Roths,” answered Polly. She did not
mean to tell, but his frankness was so agreeable she forgot herself.
“It ‘s not nearly so pleasant or so short for you as the park.”
“I know it, but people sometimes get tired of old ways and like to
try new ones.”
Polly did n’t say that quite naturally, and Sydney gave her a quick
look, as he asked; “Do you get tired of old friends, too, Miss
Polly?”
“Not often; but ” And there she stuck, for the fear of being
ungrateful or unkind made her almost hope that he would n’t take
the hint which she had been carefully preparing for him.
There was a dreadful little pause, which Polly broke by saying
abruptly; “How is Fan?”
“Dashing, as ever. Do you know I ‘m rather disappointed in Fanny,
for she don’t seem to improve with her years,” said Sydney, as if he
accepted the diversion and was glad of it.
“Ah, you never see her at her best. She puts on that dashing air
before people to hide her real self. But I know her better; and I
assure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults,
though she won’t own it, and will surprise you some day, by the
amount of heart and sense and goodness she has got.”
Polly spoke heartily now, and Sydney looked at her as if Fanny’s
defender pleased him more than Fanny’s defence.
“I ‘m very glad to hear it, and willingly take your word for it.
Everybody shows you their good side, I think, and that is why you
find the world such a pleasant place.”
“Oh, but I don’t! It often seems like a very hard and dismal place,