“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.
“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 see her at her best. She puts on that dashing air before people to hide her real self. But I know her better; and I assure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults, though she won't own it, and will surprise you some day, by the amount of heart and sense and goodness she has got.”
Polly spoke heartily now, and Sydney looked at her as if Fanny's defender pleased him more than Fanny's defence.
“I'm very glad to hear it, and willingly take your word for it. Everybody shows you their good side, I think, and that is why you find the world such a pleasant place.”
“Oh, but I don't! It often seems like a very hard and dismal place, and I croak over my trials like an ungrateful raven.”
“Can't we make the trials lighter for you?”
The voice that put the question was so very kind, that Polly dared not look up, because she knew what the eyes were silently saying.