It seemed as if the spring weather had brought out all manner of tender things beside fresh grass and the first dandelions, for as she went down the street, Polly kept seeing different phases of the sweet old story which she was trying to forget.
At a street corner, a black-eyed school-boy was parting from a rosy-faced school-girl, whose music-roll he was reluctantly surrendering.
"Don't you forget, now," said the boy, looking bashfully into the bright eyes, that danced with pleasure as the girl blushed and smiled, and answered reproachfully,—
"Why, of course I shan't!"
"That little romance runs smoothly so far; I hope it may to the end," said Polly, heartily, as she watched the lad tramp away, whistling as blithely as if his pleasurable emotions must find a vent, or endanger the buttons on the round jacket; while the girl pranced on her own doorstep, as if practising for the joyful dance which she had promised not to forget.
A little farther on Polly passed a newly engaged couple whom she knew, walking arm in arm for the first time, both wearing that proud yet conscious look which is so delightful to behold upon the countenances of these temporarily glorified beings.
"How happy they seem; oh, dear!" said Polly, and trudged on, wondering if her turn would ever come, and fearing that it was impossible.
A glimpse of a motherly looking lady entering a door, received by a flock of pretty children, who cast themselves upon mamma and her parcels with cries of rapture, did Polly good; and when, a minute after,
