ng one, for at eight o'clock she slipped out of the room,
meaning to run home alone, and not compel any one to serve as escort.
But she did not succeed, for as she stood warming her rubbers at the
dining-room fire, wondering pensively as she did so if Maria Bailey
had small feet, and if Tom ever put her rubbers on for her, the
little overshoes were taken out of her hands, and Tom's voice said,
reproachfully, "Did you really mean to run away, and not let me go home
with you?"

"I 'm not afraid; I did n't want to take you away," began Polly,
secretly hoping that she did n't look too pleased.

"But I like to be taken away. Why, it 's a whole year since I went home
with you; do you remember that?" said Tom, flapping the rubbers about
without any signs of haste.

"Does it seem long?"

"Everlasting!"

Polly meant to say that quite easily, and smile incredulously at his
answer; but in spite of the coquettish little rose-colored hood she
wore, and which she knew was very becoming, she did not look or speak
gayly, and Tom saw something in the altered face that made him say
hastily, "I 'm afraid you 've been doing too much this winter; you look
tired out, Polly."

"Oh, no! it suits me to be very busy," and she began to drag on her
gloves as if to prove it.

"But it does n't suit me to have you get thin and pale, you know."

Polly looked up to thank him, but never did, for there was something
deeper than gratitude in the honest blue eyes, that could not hide
the truth entirely. Tom saw it, flushed all over his brown face, and
dropping the rubbers with a crash, took her hands, saying, in his old
impetuous way, "Polly, I want to tell you something!"

"Yes, I know, we 've been expecting it. I hope you 'll be very happy,
Tom;" and Polly shook his hands with a smile that was more pathetic than
a flood of tears.

"What!" cried Tom, looking as if he thought she had lost her mind.

"Ned told us all about her; he thought it would be so, and when you
spoke of another engagement, we knew you meant your own."

"But I did n't! Ned's the man; he told me to tell you. It 's just
settled."

"Is it Maria?" cried Polly, holding on to a chair as if to be prepared
for anything.

"Of course. Who else should it be?"

"He did n't say you talked about her most and so we thought" stammered
Polly, falling into a sudden flutter.

"That I was in love? Well, I am, but not with her."

"Oh!" and Polly caught her breath as if a dash of cold