"How happy they seem; oh, dear!" said Polly, and trudged on, wondering
if her turn would ever come and fearing that it was impossible.

A glimpse of a motherly-looking lady entering a door, received by a
flock of pretty children, who cast themselves upon mamma and her parcels
with cries of rapture, did Polly good; and when, a minute after she
passed a gray old couple walking placidly together in the sunshine,
she felt better still, and was glad to see such a happy ending to the
romance she had read all down the street.

As if the mischievous little god wished to take Polly at a disadvantage,
or perhaps to give her another chance, just at that instant Mr. Sydney
appeared at her side. How he got there was never very clear to Polly,
but there he was, flushed, and a little out of breath, but looking so
glad to see her that she had n't the heart to be stiff and cool, as she
had fully intended to be when they met.

"Very warm, is n't it?" he said when he had shaken hands and fallen into
step, just in the old way.

"You seem to find it so." And Polly laughed, with a sudden sparkle in
her eyes. She really could n't help it, it was so pleasant to see him
again, just when she was feeling so lonely.

"Have you given up teaching the Roths?" asked Sydney, changing the
subject.

"No."

"Do you go as usual?"

"Yes."

"Well, it 's a mystery to me how you get there."

"As much as it is to me how you got here so suddenly."

"I saw you from the Shaws' window and took the liberty of running after
you by the back street," he said, laughing.

"That is the way I get to the Roths," answered Polly. She did not mean
to tell, but his frankness was so agreeable she forgot herself.

"It 's not nearly so pleasant or so short for you as the park."

"I know it, but people sometimes get tired of old ways and like to try
new ones."

Polly did n't say that quite naturally, and Sydney gave her a quick
look, as he asked; "Do you get tired of old friends, too, Miss Polly?"

"Not often; but" And there she stuck, for the fear of being ungrateful
or unkind made her almost hope that he would n't take the hint which she
had been carefully preparing for him.

There was a dreadful little pause, which Polly broke by saying abruptly;
"How is Fan?"

"Dashing, as ever. Do you know I 'm rather disappointed in Fanny,
for she don't seem to improve with her years," said Sydney, as if he
accepted the diversion and was glad of it.

"Ah, you never se