water had fallen
on her, for the more in earnest Tom grew, the blunter he became.

"Do you want to know the name of the girl I 've loved for more than a
year? Well, it 's Polly!" As he spoke, Tom stretched out his arms to
her, with the sort of mute eloquence that cannot be resisted, and Polly
went straight into them, without a word.

Never mind what happened for a little bit. Love scenes, if genuine, are
indescribable; for to those who have enacted them, the most elaborate
description seems tame, and to those who have not, the simplest picture
seems overdone. So romancers had better let imagination paint for them
that which is above all art, and leave their lovers to themselves during
the happiest minutes of their lives.

Before long, Tom and Polly were sitting side by side, enjoying the
blissful state of mind which usually follows the first step out of our
work-a-day world, into the glorified region wherein lovers rapturously
exist for a month or two. Tom just sat and looked at Polly as if he
found it difficult to believe that the winter of his discontent had
ended in this glorious spring. But Polly, being a true woman, asked
questions, even while she laughed and cried for joy.

"Now, Tom, how could I know you loved me when you went away and never
said a word?" she began, in a tenderly reproachful tone, thinking of the
hard year she had spent.

"And how could I have the courage to say a word, when I had nothing on
the face of the earth to offer you but my worthless self?" answered Tom,
warmly.

"That was all I wanted!" whispered Polly, in a tone which caused him to
feel that the race of angels was not entirely extinct.

"I 've always been fond of you, my Polly, but I never realized how fond
till just before I went away. I was n't free, you know, and besides I
had a strong impression that you liked Sydney in spite of the damper
which Fan hinted you gave him last winter. He 's such a capital fellow,
I really don't see how you could help it."

"It is strange; I don't understand it myself; but women are queer
creatures, and there 's no accounting for their tastes," said Polly,
with a sly look, which Tom fully appreciated.

"You were so good to me those last days, that I came very near speaking
out, but could n't bear to seem to be offering you a poor, disgraced
sort of fellow, whom Trix would n't have, and no one seemed to think
worth much. 'No,' I said to myself, 'Polly ought to have the best; if
Syd can get h