her aunt,
deftly turning a well-rolled sheet of pastry.

And righting her dolly, which she had been dragging upside down, Trotty
let slip her fears with the sovereign ease of childhood.

From the kitchen Polly could hear the boom of John's deep bass: it made
nothing of the lath-and-plaster walls. Of course, shut up as he was, he
had to talk to somebody, poor fellow; and Richard was too busy to spare
him more than half an hour of an evening. Jinny was a good listener.
Through the crack of the door, Polly could see her sitting humbly
drinking in John's words, and even looking rather pretty, in her fair,
full womanliness.

"Oh, Polly!" she burst out one day, after being held thus spellbound.
"Oh, my dear, what a splendid man your brother is! I feel sometimes I
could sink through the floor with shame at my ignorance, when 'e talks
to me so."

But as time went on Mahony noticed that his wife grew decidedly
thoughtful; and if John continued to sing Jinny's praises, he heard
nothing more of it. He had an acute suspicion what troubled Polly; but
did not try to force her confidence.

Then one afternoon, on his getting home, she came into the surgery
looking very perturbed, and could hardly find words to break a certain
piece of news to him. It appeared that not an hour previously, Jinny,
flushed and tearful, had lain on her neck, confessing her feelings for
John and hinting at the belief that they were returned.

"Well, I think you might have been prepared for something of this sort,
Polly," he said with a shrug, when he had heard her out. "Convalescence
is notoriously dangerous for fanning the affections."

"Oh, but I never DREAMT of such a thing, Richard! Jinny is a dear good
girl and all that, but she is NOT John's equal. And that he can even
THINK of putting her in poor Emma's place!--What shall I say to him?"

"Say nothing at all. Your brother John is not the man to put up with
interference."

"He longs so for a real home again, Polly darling," said Jinny, wiping
her eyes. "And HOW 'appy it will make me to fulfil 'is wish! Don't let
me feel unwelcome and an intruder, dear. I know I'm not nearly good
enough for 'im, and 'e could 'ave had the choice of ever such handsome
women. But 'e 'as promised to be patient with me, and to teach me
everything I ought to know."

Polly's dismay at the turn of events yielded to a womanly sympathy with
her friend. "It's just like poor little Agnes and Mr. Henry over
again," was