for the feminine desire to "talk it over" usually gets the better of the deepest emotion. So presently the girls were hard at it, Polly very humble and downcast, Fanny excited, and overflowing with curiosity and delight.
"Really my sister! You dear thing, how heavenly that will be," she cried.
"It never will be," answered Polly, in a tone of calm despair.
"What will prevent it?"
"Maria Bailey," was the tragic reply.
"What do you mean? Is she the Western girl? she shan't have Tom; I'll kill her first!"
"Too late, let me tell you—is that door shut, and Maud safe?"
Fanny reconnoitred, and returning listened breathlessly, while Polly poured into her ear the bitter secret which was preying on her soul.
"Hasn't he mentioned Maria in his letters?"
"Once or twice, but sort of jokingly, and I thought it was only some little flirtation. He can't have time for much of that fun, he's so busy."
"Ned writes good, gossippy letters,—I taught him how,—and he tells me all that's going on. When he'd spoken of this girl several times (they board with her mother, you know), I asked about her, quite carelessly, and he told me she was pretty, good, and well educated, and he thought Tom was rather smitten. That was a blow; for you see, Fan, since Trix broke the engagement, and it wasn't wrong to think of Tom, I let myself hope, just a little, and was so happy! Now I must give it up, and now I see how
