"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. Haven'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 haven'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."
