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 tired; had a good deal to do lately, and the dull weather makes me just a trifle blue. I shall soon brighten up when I get to my work again," answered Polly, bustling about to put away her things.
"You don't look a bit natural; what have you been doing to your precious little self?" persisted Fanny, troubled by the change, yet finding it hard to say wherein it lay.
Polly did not look sick, though her cheeks were thinner, and her color paler than formerly, but she seemed spiritless, and there was a tired look in her eyes, that went to Fanny's heart.
"I'm all right enough, as you'll see when I'm in order. I'm proper glad to find you looking so well and happy. Does all go smoothly, Fan?" asked Polly, beginning to brush her hair industriously.
"Answer me one question first," said Fanny, looking as if a sudden fear had come over her. "Tell me, truly, have you never repented of your hint to Sydney?"
"Never!" cried Polly, throwing back the brown
