had seen her, and approached with a curious little flutter at her
heart, for if Tom cut her she felt that her cup would be full.
On they came, Trix intent on the view, Tom staring at the
handsome horse, and Polly, with red checks, expectant eyes, and
the brown bundle, in full sight. One dreadful minute as they came
parallel, and no one spoke or bowed, then it was all over, and Polly
went on, feeling as if some one had slapped her in the face. “She
would n’t have believed it of Tom; it was all the doings of that
horrid Trix; well, she would n’t trouble him any more, if he was
such a snob as to be ashamed of her just because she carried
bundles and worked for her bread.” She clutched the paper bag
fiercely as she said this to herself, then her eyes filled, and her lips
trembled, as she added, “How could he do it, before her, too?”
Now Tom was quite guiltless of this offence, and had always
nodded to Polly when they met; but it so happened he had always
been alone till now, and that was why it cut so deeply, especially
as Polly never had approved of Trix. Before she could clear her
eyes or steady her face, a gentleman met her, lifted his hat, smiled,
and said pleasantly, “Good morning, Miss Polly, I ‘m glad to meet
you.” Then, with a sudden change of voice and manner, he added,
“I beg pardon is anything the matter can I be of service?”
It was very awkward, but it could n’t be helped, and all Polly could
do was to tell the truth and make the best of it.
“It ‘s very silly, but it hurts me to be cut by my old friends. I shall
get used to it presently, I dare say.”
Mr. Sydney glanced back, recognized the couple behind them, and
turned round with a disgusted expression. Polly was fumbling for
her handkerchief, and without a word he took both book and
bundle from her, a little bit of kindness that meant a good deal just
then. Polly felt it, and it did her good; hastily wiping the traitorous
eyes, she laughed and said cheerfully, “There, I ‘m all right again;
thank you, don’t trouble yourself with my parcels.”
“No trouble, I assure you, and this book reminds me of what I was
about to say. Have you an hour to spare for my little niece? Her
mother wants her to begin, and desired me to make the inquiry.”
“Did she, really?” and Polly looked up at him, as if she suspected
him of inventing the whole thing, out of kindness.
Mr. Sydney smiled, and taking a note from his pocket, presented it,
saying, with a reproachful look, “Behold the proof of my truth, and
never doubt again.”
Polly begged pardon, read the note from the little girl’s mother,
which was to have been left at her room if she was absent, and
gave the bearer a very grateful look as she accepted this welcome
addition to her pupils. Well pleased at the success of his mission,
Sydney artfully led the conversation to music, and for a time Polly
forgot her woes, talking enthusiastically on her favorite theme. As
she reclaimed her book and bag, at her own door, she said, in her
honest way, “Thank you very much for trying to make me forget
my foolish little troubles.”
“Then let me say one thing more; though appearances are against
him, I don’t believe Tom Shaw saw you. Miss Trix is equal to that
sort of thing, but it is n’t like Tom, for with all his foppery he is a
good fellow at heart.”
As Mr. Sydney said this, Polly held out her hand with a hearty
“Thank you for that.” The young man shook the little hand in the
gray woollen glove, gave her exactly the same bow which he did
the Honorable Mrs. Davenport, and went away, leaving Polly to
walk up stairs and address Puttel with the peculiar remark, “You
are a true gentleman! so kind to say that about Tom. I ‘ll think it ‘s