Saturday morning was Polly's clearing-up day, and Fan found her with a handkerchief tied over her head, and a big apron on, just putting the last touches to the tidy little room, which was as fresh and bright as water, air, and a pair of hands could make it.
“All ready for company. I'll just whisk off my regimentals, and Polly, the maid, becomes Polly, the missis. It was lovely of you to come early; take off your things. Another new bonnet? you extravagant wretch! How is your mother and Maudie? It's a nice day, and we'll have a walk, won't we?”
By the time Polly's welcome was uttered, she had got Fan on the little sofa beside her, and was smiling at her in such an infectious manner, that Fan could n't help smiling back.
“I came to see what you have been doing with yourself lately. You don't come and report, and I got anxious about you,” said Fanny, looking into the clear eyes before her.
“I've been so busy; and I knew you would n't care to hear about my doings, for they are n't the sort you like,” answered Polly.
“Your lessons did n't use to take up all your time. It's my private opinion that you are taking as well as giving lessons, miss,” said Fan, putting on a playfully stern air, to hide her real anxiety.
“Yes, I am,” answered Polly, soberly.
“In what? Love?”
A quick color came to Polly's cheeks, as she laughed, and said, looking away, “No; friendship and good works.”
“Oh, indeed! May I ask who is your teacher?”