"There is nothing the matter, Polly, is there?" I asked anxiously. "You have not any bad news to tell me?"
"No, Agnes, none at all," Polly said.
"You are quite sure, Polly?" I repeated, for I could not help thinking that there was something the matter. "You have not heard any bad news from Harry, in Australia, have you?"
"No, indeed, Agnes; I have not heard of him since the last mail, a fortnight since, and you had a letter from him at the same time."
"Nor about Ada, or her family?" I persisted.
"Nothing at all, Agnes. I assure you I have no bad news of any kind whatever to give you."
I could not help believing, although still I could not understand her.
"Excuse me, Polly," I said, at last; "but you have not had any foolish quarrel with Charley, have you?"
"Bless me, no, Agnes," she laughed. "The idea of my quarrelling with my dear old bear. What will you imagine next?"
I could not help laughing, too—the idea was ridiculous, certainly; for Polly and Charley were about as little likely to quarrel as any pair I ever saw. Here Hannah brought up the tray. Polly ate a little and had a glass of wine. When Hannah took away the things, she requested her to leave a tumbler of water on the table, as she felt rather thirsty after her journey. When we were alone again, she asked me to give her a piece of work to keep her fingers employed while she talked to me.