"Well, I can't do anything but wait!" she said, at last, slamming the music-book together with a desperate look. "Yes, I can," she added, a minute after, "it's Polly's holiday. I can go and see her, and if there is anything in it, I shall find it out."
Fanny dropped her face into her hands, with a little shiver, as she said that; then got up, looking as pale and resolute as if going to meet some dreadful doom, and putting on her things, went away to Polly's as fast as her dignity would allow.
Saturday morning was Polly's clearing-up day, and Fan found her with a handkerchief tied over her head, and a big apron on, just putting the last touches to the tidy little room, which was as fresh and bright as water, air, and a pair of hands could make it.
"All ready for company. I'll just whisk off my regimentals, and Polly, the maid, becomes Polly, the missis. It was lovely of you to come early; take off your things. Another new bonnet? you extravgant wretch! How is your mother and Maudie? It's a nice day, and we'll have a walk, won't we?"
By the time Polly's welcome was uttered, she had got Fan on the little sofa beside her, and was smiling at her in such an infectious manner, that Fan couldn't help smiling back.
"I came to see what you have been doing with yourself lately. You don't come and report, and I got anxious about you," said Fanny, looking into the clear eyes before her.
"I've been so busy; and I knew you wouldn't care to hear about my doings, for they aren't the sort you like," answered Polly.
