'No, Polly; but I believe he has plenty of pet names for her.'
'Yes, he will pet her—ah, I understand, and I am not to scorn him. I am not to call him foolish, Mildred?'
'Of course not. Why should you?'
'Ah, why should I? Papa, it is time for us to be going; you have talked to Miss Ellison long enough. My pretty bird,' as Polly stole shyly up to them, 'I have not wished you joy yet, but it is not always to be had for the wishing.'
'I wish every one would not be so kind,' stammered Polly. Mr. Trelawny's condescension and elaborate compliments had almost overwhelmed the poor little thing.
'How the child blushes! I wonder you are not afraid of such a grave Mentor, Polly.'
'Oh, no, he is too kind for that—is he not, Aunt Milly?'
'I hope you do not make Mildred the umpire,' replied Ethel, watching them both. 'Oh these men!' she thought to herself, as she dropped the girl's hand; her eyes grew suddenly dim as she stooped and kissed Mildred's pale cheek. 'Good—there is no one worthy of you,' she said to herself; 'he is not—he never will be now.'
'People are almost too kind; I wish they would not come and talk to me so,' Polly said, with one of her pretty pouts, as she walked with Dr. Heriot that evening. He was a little shy of courting in public, and loved better to have her with him in one of their quiet walks; this evening he had come again to fetch her, and Mildred had given him some instruction as to the length and duration of their walk.
'Had you not better come with us?' he had said to her, as though he meant it; but Mildred shook her head with a slight smile. 'We shall all meet you at Ewbank Scar; it is better for you to have the child to yourself for a little,' she had replied.