Mind you, I don’t say Mr. Sydney loved me, for he never said so,
and never will, now, but I did fancy he rather liked me and might
do more if I did n’t show him that it was of no use.”
“And you did?” cried Fanny, much excited.
“I just gave him a hint and he took it. He meant to go away before
that, so don’t think his heart is broken, or mind what silly tattlers
say. I did n’t like his meeting me so much and told him so by going
another way. He understood, and being a gentleman, made no fuss.
I dare say he thought I was a vain goose, and laughed at me for my
pains, like Churchill in ‘Helen.’ ”
“No, he would n’t; He ‘d like it and respect you for doing it. But,
Polly, it would have been a grand thing for you.”
“I can’t sell myself for an establishment.”
“Mercy! What an idea!”
“Well, that ‘s the plain English of half your fashionable matches. I
‘m ‘odd,’ you know, and prefer to be an independent spinster and
teach music all my days.”
“Ah, but you won’t. You were made for a nice, happy home of your
own, and I hope you ‘ll get it, Polly, dear,” said Fanny warmly,
feeling so grateful to Polly, that she found it hard not to pour out
all her secret at once.
“I hope I may; but I doubt it,” answered Polly in a tone that made
Fanny wonder if she, too, knew what heartache meant.
“Something troubles you, Polly, what is it? Confide in me, as I do
in you,” said Fanny tenderly, for all the coldness she had tried to
hide from Polly, had melted in the sudden sunshine that had come
to her.
“Do you always?” asked her friend, leaning forward with an
irresistible desire to win back the old-time love and confidence,
too precious to be exchanged for a little brief excitement or the
barren honor of “bagging a bird,” to use Trix’s elegant expression.
Fanny understood it then, and threw herself into Polly’s arms,
crying, with a shower of grateful tears; “Oh, my dear! my dear!
did you do it for my sake?”
And Polly held her close, saying in that tender voice of hers, “I did
n’t mean to let a lover part this pair of friends if I could help it.”
CHAPTER XV BREAKERS AHEAD
GOING into the Shaws’ one evening, Polly found Maud sitting on
the stairs, with a troubled face.
“Oh, Polly, I ‘m so glad you ‘ve come!” cried the little girl, running
to hug her.
“What’s the matter, deary?”
“I don’t know; something dreadful must have happened, for
mamma and Fan are crying together upstairs, papa is shut up in the
library, and Tom is raging round like a bear, in the dining-room.”
“I guess it is n’t anything very bad. Perhaps mamma is sicker than
usual, or papa worried about business, or Tom in some new scrape.
Don’t look so frightened, Maudie, but come into the parlor and see
what I ‘ve got for you,” said Polly, feeling that there was trouble of
some sort in the air, but trying to cheer the child, for her little face
was full of a sorrowful anxiety, that went to Polly’s heart.
“I don’t think I can like anything till I know what the matter is,”
answered Maud. “It ‘s something horrid, I ‘m sure, for when papa
came home, he went up to mamma’s room, and talked ever so
long, and mamma cried very loud, and when I tried to go in, Fan
would n’t let me, and she looked scared and strange. I wanted to go
to papa when he came down, but the door was locked, and he said,
‘Not now, my little girl,’ and then I sat here waiting to see what
would happen, and Tom came home. But when I ran to tell him, he
said, ‘Go away, and don’t bother,’ and just took me by the shoulders
and put me out. Oh, dear! everything is so queer and horrid, I don’t
know what to do.”
Maud began to cry, and Polly sat down on the stairs beside her,