I said she would n't?"

"Well, is n't she?"

"Not a bit of it. I thought she was at one time, and expected every day
to have her come in with a long face, and say she could n't stand it.
But somehow, lately, she is always bright and happy, seems to like her
work, and don't have the tired, worried look she used to at first. The
three months are out, so pay up, Tommy."

"All right, what will you have?"

"You may make it gloves. I always need them, and papa looks sober when I
want money."

There was a minute's pause as Fan returned to her practising, and Tom
relapsed into the reverie he was enjoying seated astride of a chair,
with his chin on his folded arms.

"Seems to me Polly don't come here as often as she used to," he said,
presently.

"No, she seems to be very busy; got some new friends, I believe, old
ladies, sewing-girls, and things of that sort. I miss her, but know she
'll get tired of being goody, and will come back to me before long."

"Don't be too sure of that, ma'am." Something in Tom's tone made Fan
turn round, and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Well, it strikes me that Sydney is one of Polly's new friends. Have n't
you observed that she is uncommonly jolly, and don't that sort of thing
account for it?"

"Nonsense!" said Fanny, sharply.

"Hope it is," coolly returned Tom.

"What put it into your head?" demanded Fanny, twirling round again so
that her face was hidden.

"Oh, well, I keep meeting Syd and Polly circulating in the same
directions; she looks as if she had found something uncommonly nice, and
he looks as if all creation was getting Pollyfied pretty rapidly. Wonder
you have n't observed it."

"I have."

It was Tom's turn to look surprised now, for Fanny's voice sounded
strange to him. He looked at her steadily for a minute, but saw only a
rosy ear and a bent head. A cloud passed over his face, and he leaned
his chin on his arm again with a despondent whistle, as he said to
himself, "Poor Fan! Both of us in a scrape at once."

"Don't you think it would be a good thing?" asked Fanny, after playing a
bar or two, very badly.

"Yes, for Syd."

"Not for Polly? Why, he 's rich, and clever, and better than most of you
good-for-nothing fellows. What can the girl expect?"

"Can't say, but I don't fancy the match myself."

"Don't be a dog in the manger, Tom. Bless your little heart, I only take
a brotherly sort of interest in Polly. She 's a capital girl, and she
ought to marry a miss