ions had been stringent; and knowing that it would be
like high treason to speak to Humphrey, she determined that she would
not, just as an industrious young needle, which had been warned not to
get rusty by associating with common bits of steel, might have gone on
busily through its work like the one Polly held in her hand.

But supposing that, instead of a common piece of steel, a magnet that
had been rubbed with the loadstone of love should come in its way, what
could the poor needle do?

Even as did little Polly--vow that aunt would be so cross; and then feel
herself drawn, drawn closer and closer to the iron-barred window, till
her little hands were caught in two strong, muscular fists, which
pressed them so hard that they almost hurt.

"Oh! you mustn't, mustn't come!" sobbed Polly. "If aunt found it out
she would almost kill me!"

"No, no, little one," said Humphrey; "why should she?"

"You--you don't know aunt," whispered Polly. "She's ordered me not to
speak to you."

"Not to speak to me!"

"Yes; nor to any one else. She would be so angry if she knew. You
don't want to get me scolded."

"No, no," he whispered--"not for worlds."

"Pray, pray, go then; and you must not speak to me any more."

"But Polly, dear Polly," whispered Humphrey, "tell me one thing, and
then I'll go and wait years and years, if you like, only tell me that."

Humphrey stopped short, for a singular phenomenon occurred. Polly's
fingers seemed to suddenly change from within his hands to his wrists,
and to become bony and firm, a sharp voice at the same moment
exclaiming--

"Who's this?"

Humphrey Lloyd was a man, every inch of him, and he spoke out boldly--

"Well, if you must know, it's me--Humphrey."

"Go round to the side door, and come to my room," said Mrs Lloyd, in a
low, angry voice.

Humphrey was heard to go rustling through the laurels, as Mrs Lloyd
exclaimed--

"Go up to your room, Miss, this instant; and don't you stir till I call
you down."

Shivering with fear and shame, Polly made her escape to run up to her
room, throw herself on the bed, and cry as if her heart would break,
just missing Humphrey, who came round without loss of time.

"Now," said Mrs Lloyd, as soon as the door was closed, "what have you
to say to this?"

"Only that it was my fault," said Humphrey--"all my fault; so don't
blame the poor little girl. It was all my doing."

"Now, look here, Humphrey Lloyd," exclaimed the housekeeper