difficult task of dressing for dinner
in five minutes. The grey-eyed lady of my love had just left me for
the same purpose, and I was singing, I don't know what, at the top of
my voice in pure blitheness of heart. Polly and I fairly rushed into
each other's arms.

"My dear child!" said I, swinging her madly round, "I am delirious
with delight, and so is Sweep, for she kissed his nose."

Poor Polly buried her head on my shoulder, saying,

"And, oh, Regie! I _am_ so happy!"

It was thus that my father and Aunt Maria found us. Fate, spiteful at
our happiness, had sent my father, stiff with an irreproachable
neckcloth, and Aunt Maria, rustling in amber silk and black laces,
towards the drawing-room, five minutes too early for dinner, but just
in time to catch us in the most sentimental of attitudes, and to hear
dear, candid, simple-hearted Polly's outspoken confession--"I _am_ so
happy!"

"And how long are you going to keep your happiness to yourselves,
young people?" said my father, whose face beamed with a satisfaction
more sedately reflected in Aunt Maria's countenance. "Do you grudge
the old folks a share? Eh, sir? eh?"

And the old gentleman pinched my shoulder, and clapped me on the back.
He was positively playful.

"Stop, my dear father," said I, "you're mistaken."

"Eh, what?" said my father, and Aunt Maria drew her laces round her
and prepared for war.

"Polly and I are not engaged, sir, if that's what you think," said I,
desperately.

My father and Aunt Maria both opened their mouths at once.

"Dinner's on the table, sir," the butler announced. My father lacked a
subject for his vexation, and turned upon old Bowles:

"Take the dinner to ----"

"--the kitchen," said I, "and keep it warm for ten minutes; we are not
ready. Now, my dear father, come to my room, for I have something to
tell you."

There was no need for Polly to ask Aunt Maria to go with her. That
lady drove her daughter before her to her bedroom, with a severity of
aspect which puzzled and alarmed poor Leo, whom they passed in the
corridor. A blind man could have told by the rustle of her dress that
Mrs. Ascott would have a full explanation before she broke bread again
at our table.

I fancy she was not severe upon the future Lady Damer, when Polly's
tale was told.

As to my father, he was certainly vexed and put out at first. But day
by day my lady-love won more and more of his heart. One evening, a
week later, he disappeared my