“She won’t come, I know, for if she undertakes to be independent, she’ll do it in the most thorough manner,” answered Fanny, and Mrs. Shaw sincerely hoped she would. It was all very well to patronize the little music-teacher, but it was not so pleasant to have her settled in the family.

“I shall do what I can for her among my friends, and I dare say she will get on very well with young pupils to begin with. If she starts right, puts her terms high enough, and gets a few good names to give her the entrée into our first families, I don’t doubt she will do nicely, for I must say Polly has the manners of a perfect lady,” observed Mrs. Shaw.

“She’s a mighty taking little body, and I’m glad she’s to be in town, though I’d like it better if she didn’t bother about teaching, but just stayed here and enjoyed herself,” said Tom, lazily.

“I’ve no doubt she would feel highly honoured to be allowed to devote her time to your amusement; but she can’t afford expensive luxuries, and she don’t approve of flirting, so you will have to let her go her own way, and refresh herself with such glimpes of you as her engagements permit,” answered Fanny, in the sarcastic tone which was becoming habitual to her.

“You are getting to be a regular old maid, Fan; as sharp as a lemon, and twice as sour,” returned Tom, looking down at her with an air of calm superiority.

“Do be quiet, children; you know I can’t bear anything like contention. Maud, give me my Shetland shawl, and put a cushion at my back.”

As Maud obeyed her mother, with a reproving look at her erring brother and sister, a pause followed, for which everyone seemed grateful. They were sitting about the fire after dinner, and all looked as if a little sunshine would do them good. It had been a dull November day, but all of a sudden the clouds lifted, and a bright ray shot into the room. Everyone turned involuntarily to welcome it, and everyone cried out, “Why, Polly!” for there on the threshold stood a bright-faced girl, smiling as if there was no such thing as November weather in the world.

“You dear thing, when did you come?” cried Fanny, kissing both the blooming cheeks with real affection, while the rest hovered near, waiting for a chance.

“I came yesterday, and have been getting my nest in order; but I couldn’t keep away any longer, so I ran up to say ‘How do you do?’ ” answered Polly, in the cheery voice that did one’s heart good to hear.

“My Polly always brings the sunshine with her,” and Mr. Shaw held out his hands to his little friend, for she was his favourite still.

It was good to see her put both arms about his neck, and give him a tender kiss, that said a great deal, for grandma had died since Polly met him last, and she longed to comfort him, seeing how grey and old he had grown.

If Tom had had any thoughts of following his father’s example, something in Polly’s manner made him change his mind, and shake hands with a hearty “I’m very glad to see you, Polly,” adding to himself, as he looked at the face in the modest little bonnet, “Prettier than ever, by Jove!”

There was something more than mere prettiness in Polly’s face, though Tom had not learned to see it yet. The blue eyes were clear and steady, the fresh mouth frank and sweet, the white chin was a very firm one in spite of the dimple, and the smooth forehead under the little curls had a broad, benevolent arch; while all about the face were those unmistakable lines and curves which can make even a plain countenance comely, by breathing into it the beauty of a lovely character. Polly had grown up, but she had no more style now than in the days of the round hat and rough coat, for she was all in grey, like a young Quakeress, with no ornament but a blue bow at the throat and another in the hair. Yet the plain suit became her excellently, and one never thought of the dress, looking at the active figure that wore