who came there during her stay, were charmed,
and regarded her with a significant interest which
none of the family discouraged. Mrs. Livingstone
would walk her about the great walled
garden for an hour at a time, talking to her no
one but themselves knew what about, but the
two were excellent company to each other, and
often Bob made a third. Laura was rather
quizzical on the subject of Maggie's friend and
her brother, but that was her disagreeable way,
and Fanny and Maggie made up to them for it
by all sorts of little consideratenesses, which
they profited by without observing. And every
day some excursion was planned which threw
them together. Now it was to Cranstown
Rocks, now to Haviland Priory, and one day,
the most memorable of all, to Beech Grove, the
Livingstones' ancestral manor, Bob's inheritance,
where Maggie informed Polly that he
would most likely go to live when he married
and settled. It was an old place, though not
so old as the Grange, and it had fallen into
some neglect from having been let to a careless
tenant, whose lease was, however, nearly run
out; but as Polly said: "With a little trouble
and taste, it might be made beautiful." Bob
asked how she would go about to improve it,
and as he trotted her through the rooms and
the garden, he treasured up all her little views
and opinions, which she was perfectly free with,
not at all as if they were a matter of personal
concern. And, perhaps, they were not. Polly
had a faculty for planning and suggesting, but
she was not conscious of any peculiar sentiment
for the place as Bob's future home, though
everybody, himself included, gave her credit
for it.

And very happy Bob was in his illusion.
Polly was quite kind enough to please him, and
her shy trick of blushing, and her sudden
vivacities and caprices soon charmed his heart
away entirely. And hers? She was a mystery
to herself; she liked Bob; she liked to be near
him; once, when he took her by surprise and
kissed her, she was not so furious but that he
thought he might some day venture again; in
fact, if she had given way to nature, she would
have loved him very sweetly and tenderly. But
all her principles were against giving way, and
whenever she felt inclined to lapse into weakness,
she would recite to herself all her mother's
litany of impediments, and pains and
penalties in marriage. This sufficiently proved
her in danger, and set her on her guard against
it, poor little Polly!

The Easter visit was extended to a fortnight,
and before half of it was over, the servants in
the house, the men on the farm, the very dogs
even had learnt to demean themselves to Polly
as to a little lady in whom their master had a
special interest. Mrs. Livingstone, Laura, Fanny,
and Bob's two chief bachelor friends were ready
with their consent whenever it might be
required; and in the absence of the principals
would discuss their private affairs without the
smallest delicacy or reserve. Only Maggie held
herself in an attitude of doubt, and this Laura
treated as the supremest affectation. "You
know your precious Polly will say 'Yes' the
very first minute Bob asks her, and be only too
glad!" the quizzical sister would tauntingly
aver; to which Maggie would make answer
that she only wished she was as sure of it as
Laura appeared to be.

But Maggie could be sure of nothing. Polly
was a puzzle and trial to her at this moment,
and she was constantly trying to solve her by
all manner of cunning experiments and
questions. On their last evening together she went
so far as to say in the privacy of their bedroom:
"I fancied once you were going to be
fond of Bob for my sake, Polly, and I'm
disappointed in you. You are not half good to
him, you little cross thing, and you look him in
the face as frankly as any of us—that's a sign
you don't care for him: tiresome toad that you
are!"

"Bob's eyes are blue," said Polly, with
abstraction, but as coolly as if she were repeating
"two and two are four."

"You have no particular prejudice against
blue eyes, have you?" inquired Maggie, in a
tone of affront.

"No! you dear old Maggie, why should I?
Yours are blue."

After a brief silence Maggie returned to the
charge: "You are coming to see us again at
Midsummer—now you need not seek any
excuse, for I won't take it! You are coming to
see us again at Midsummer. Say yes, or don't
open your mouth." Polly kept her mouth
shut. "Have you been struck dumb? You
are coming, I know you are! I'll never be
friends with you again if you don't." Polly's
lips still never stirred. "O, Polly, don't be a
silly little donkey! Look here—is there
anybody loves you as much as I do, unless it be
dear old Bob? and you are going to throw it all
to the winds!"

"Yes, there's Jane loves me, and I must
spend my Midsummer at home with her and
my mother," said Polly, thus solemnly
adjured.

"That's all right; but you'll come here first
—promise—I'll shake you if you don't."

Polly did not exactly promise, but she
begged off her shaking with something Maggie
accepted as an equivalent; and in the morning,
when she was driven off to her duties at the
Warden House by Bob himself, it was
considered an understood thing that at Midsummer,
before going home to Norminster, she should
pay another visit to Blackthorn Grange. It
was a lovely April day, with the sun in full
glow, and the orchards all pink and white with
apple-blossom. The country was very fine and
luxuriant between the Grange and Lanswood,
and Polly's eyes and soul took delight in its
spring beauty. She was feeling happy,
unconsciously happy, and the radiance of her heart
shone in her countenance. Maggie, at whom
she often looked round, thought she had never
seen her so sweetly pretty before; and Bob,
though his plan of courtship was all laid out,