of accounts, and insisted,
much against her will, in teaching her book-keeping, striving to
convince her that the cash could be kept in a single box, and the
accounts separated in a book.

These lessons were merry occasions, for there was a conspicuous cavity
in Polly's brain where the faculty for mathematics should have been.

"Your imbecility is so unusual that it 's a positive inspiration,"
Edgar would say. "It is n't like any ordinary stupidity; there does
n't seem to be any bottom to it, you know; it 's abnormal, it 's
fascinating, Polly!"

Polly glowed under this unstinted praise. "I am glad you like it," she
said. "I always like to have a thing first-class of its kind, though I
can't pride myself that it compares with your Spanish accent, Edgar;
that stands absolutely alone and unapproachable for badness. I don't
worry about my mathematical stupidity a bit since I read Dr. Holmes,
who says that everybody has an idiotic area in his mind."

There had been very little bookkeeping to-night. It was raining in
torrents. Mrs. Oliver was talking with General M---- in the parlor,
while Edgar and Polly were studying in the dining-room.

Polly laid down her book and leaned back in her chair. It had been a
hard day, and it was very discouraging that a new year should come to
one's door laden with vexations and anxieties, when everybody naturally
expected new years to be happy, through January and February at least.

"Edgar," she sighed plaintively, "I find that this is a very difficult
world to live in, sometimes."

Edgar looked up from his book, and glanced at her as she lay back with
closed eyes in the Chinese lounging-chair. She was so pale, so tired,
and so very, very pretty just then, her hair falling in bright
confusion round her face, her whole figure relaxed with weariness, and
her lips quivering a little, as if she would like to cry if she dared.

Polly with dimples playing hide and seek in rosy cheeks, with dazzling
eyes, and laughing lips, and saucy tongue, was sufficiently
captivating; but Polly with bright drops on her lashes, with a pathetic
droop in the corners of her mouth and the suspicion of a tear in her
voice,--this Polly was irresistible.

"What's the matter, pretty Poll?"

"Nothing specially new. The Baer cubs were naughty as little demons
to-day. One of them had a birthday-party yesterday, with four kinds of
frosted cake. Mrs. Baer's system of management is n't like mine, and
unt