"It's not nearly so pleasant or so short for you as the park."
"I know it; but people sometimes get tired of old ways, and like to try new ones."
Polly didn't say that quite naturally, and Sydney gave her a quick look, as he asked,—
"Do you get tired of old friends, too, Miss Polly?"
"Not often; but—"and there she stuck, for the fear of being ungrateful or unkind made her almost hope that he wouldn't take the hint which she had been carefully preparing for him.
There was a dreadful little pause, which Polly broke by saying, abruptly,—
"How is Fan?"
"Dashing as ever. Do you know I'm rather disappointed in Fanny, for she don't seem to improve with her years," said Sydney, as if he accepted the diversion, and was glad of it.
"Ah, you never see her at her best. She puts on that dashing air before people to hide her real self. But I know her better and I assure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults, though she won't own it, and will surprise you some day, by the amount of heart and sense and goodness she has got."
Polly spoke heartily now, and Sydney looked at her as if Fanny's defender pleased him more than Fanny's defence.
"I'm very glad to hear it, and willingly take your word for it. Everybody shows you their good side, I think, and that is why you find the world such a pleasant place."
