even in the act of
bedewing his boots with tears. Sydney stood by him to the last, "like
a man and a brother" (which expression of Tom's gave Fanny infinite
satisfaction), and Will felt entirely consoled for Ned's disappointment
at his refusal to go and join him, since Tom was to take the place Ned
had kept for him.

Fortunately every one was so busy with the necessary preparations that
there was no time for romance of any sort, and the four young people
worked together as soberly and sensibly as if all sorts of emotions were
not bottled up in their respective hearts. But in spite of the silence,
the work, and the hurry, I think they came to know one another better
in that busy little space of time than in all the years that had gone
before, for the best and bravest in each was up and stirring, and
the small house was as full of the magnetism of love and friendship,
self-sacrifice and enthusiasm, as the world outside was full of spring
sunshine and enchantment. Pity that the end should come so soon, but the
hour did its work and went its way, leaving a clearer atmosphere behind,
though the young folks did not see it then, for their eyes were dim
because of the partings that must be.

Tom was off to the West; Polly went home for the summer; Maud was
taken to the seaside with Belle; and Fanny left alone to wrestle with
housekeeping, "help," and heartache. If it had not been for two things,
I fear she never would have stood a summer in town, but Sydney often
called, till his vacation came, and a voluminous correspondence with
Polly beguiled the long days. Tom wrote once a week to his mother, but
the letters were short and not very satisfactory, for men never do
tell the interesting little things that women best like to hear. Fanny
forwarded her bits of news to Polly. Polly sent back all the extracts
from Ned's letters concerning Tom, and by putting the two reports
together, they gained the comfortable assurance that Tom was well, in
good spirits, hard at work, and intent on coming out strong in spite of
all obstacles.

Polly had a quiet summer at home, resting and getting ready in mind and
body for another winter's work, for in the autumn she tried her plan
again, to the satisfaction of her pupils and the great joy of her
friends. She never said much of herself in her letters, and Fanny's
first exclamation when they met again, was an anxious "Why, Polly, dear!
Have you been sick and never told me?"

"No, I 'm only ti