"WHAT do you think Polly is going to do this winter?" exclaimed Fanny, looking up from the letter she had been eagerly reading.
"Going to deliver lectures on Woman's Rights," said the young gentleman who was carefully examining his luxuriant crop of decidedly auburn hair, as he lounged with both elbows on the chimney-piece.
"Going to set her cap for some young minister and marry him in the spring," added Mrs. Shaw, whose mind ran a good deal upon match-making just now.
"I think she is going to stay at home, and do all the work,'cause servants cost so much; it would be just like her," observed Maud, who could pronounce the letter R now.
"It's my opinion she is going to open a school, or something of that sort, to help those brothers of hers along," said Mr. Shaw, who had put down his paper at the sound of Polly's name.
"Every one of you wrong, though papa comes nearest the truth," cried Fanny; "she is going to give music lessons, and support herself, so that Will may go to college. He is the studious one, and Polly is very proud of him. Ned, the other brother, has a business talent, and don't care for books, so he has gone out West, and will make his own way anywhere. Polly says she isn't needed at home now, the family is so small, and Kitty can take her place nicely; so she is actually going to earn her own living, and hand over her share of the family income to Will. What a martyr that girl does make of herself," and Fanny looked as solemn as if Polly had proposed some awful self-sacrifice.
"She is a sensible, brave-hearted girl, and I respect her for doing it," said Mr. Shaw, emphatically. "One never knows what may happen, and it does no harm for young people to learn to be independent."
"If she is as pretty as she was last time I saw her, she'll get pupils fast enough. I wouldn't mind taking lessons myself," was the gracious observation of Shaw, Jr., as he turned from the mirror, with the soothing certainty that his objectionable hair actually was growing darker.
"She wouldn't take you at any price," said Fanny, remembering Polly's look of disappointment and disapproval when she came on her last visit and found him an unmistakable dandy.
"You just wait and see," was the placid reply.
"If Polly does carry out her plan, I wish Maud to take lessons of her; Fanny can do as she likes, but it would please me very much to have one of my girls sing as Polly sings. It suits old people better than your opera things, and mother used to enjoy it so much."
As he spoke, Mr. Shaw's eye turned toward the comer of the fire where grandma used to sit. The easy-chair was empty now, the kind old face was gone, and nothing but a very tender memory remained.
"I'd like to learn, papa, and Polly is a splendid teacher, I know; she's always so patient, and makes everything so pleasant. I do hope she will get scholars enough to begin right away," said Maud.
"When is she coming?" asked Mrs. Shaw, quite willing to help Polly, but privately resolving that Maud should be finished off by the most fashionable master in the city.
"She doesn't say. She thanks me for asking her here, as usual, but says she shall go right to work and had better begin with her own little room at once. Won't it seem strange to have Polly in town, and yet not with us?"
"We'll get her somehow. The little room will cost something, and she can stay with us just as well as not, even if she does teach. Tell her I say so," said Mr. Shaw.
"She won't come, I know; for if she undertakes to be independent, she'll do it in the most thorough manner," answered Fanny, and Mrs. Shaw sincerely hoped she would. It was all very well to patronize the little music-teacher, but it was not so pleasant to have her settled in the family.
"I shall do what I can for her among my friends, and I dare say she will get on very well with young pupils to begin with. If she starts right, puts her terms high enough, and gets a few good names to give her the entr,e into our first families, I don't doubt she will do nicely, for I must say Polly has the manners of a lady," observed Mrs. Shaw.
"She's a mighty taking little body, and I'm glad she's to be in town, though I'd like it better if she didn't bother about teaching, but just stayed here and enjoyed herself," said Tom, lazily.
"I've no doubt she would feel highly honored to be allowed to devote her time to your amusement; but she can't afford expensive luxuries, and she don't approve of flirting, so you will have to let her go her own way, and refresh herself with such glimpses of you as her engagements permit," answered Fanny, in the sarcastic tone which was be coming habitual to her.
"You are getting to be a regular old maid, Fan; as sharp as a lemon, and twice as sour," returned Tom, looking down at her with an air of calm superiority.
"Do be quiet, children; you know I can't bear anything like contention. Maud, give me my Shetland shawl, and put a cushion at my back."
As Maud obeyed her mother, with a reproving look at her erring brother and sister, a pause followed, for which every one seemed grateful. They were sitting about the fire after dinner, and all looked as if a little sunshine would do them good. It had been a dull November day, but all of a sudden the clouds lifted, and a bright ray shot into the room. Every one turned involuntarily to welcome it, and every one cried out, "Why, Polly!" for there on the threshold stood a bright-faced girl, smiling as if there was no such thing as November weather in the world.
"You dear thing, when did you come?" cried Fanny, kissing both the blooming checks with real affection, while the rest hovered near, waiting for a chance.
"I came yesterday, and have been getting my nest in order; but I couldn't keep away any longer, so I ran up to say'How do you do?'" answered Polly, in the cheery voice that did one's heart good to hear.
"My Polly always brings the sunshine with her," and Mr. Shaw held out his hands to his little friend, for she was his favorite still.
It was good to see her put both arms about his neck, and give him a tender kiss, that said a great deal, for grandma had died since Polly met him last and she longed to comfort him, seeing how gray and old he had grown.
If Tom had had any thoughts of following his father's example, something in Polly's manner made him change his mind, and shake hands with a hearty "I'm very glad to see you, Polly," adding to himself, as he looked at the face in the modest little bonnet: "Prettier than ever, by Jove!"
There was something more than mere prettiness in Polly's face, though Tom had not learned to see it yet. The blue eyes were clear and steady, the fresh mouth frank and sweet, the white chin was a very firm one in spite of the dimple, and the smooth forehead under the little curls had a broad, benevolent arch; while all about the face were those unmistakable lines and curves which can make even a plain countenance comely, by breathing into it the beauty of a lovely character. Polly had grown up, but she had no more style now than in the days of the round hat and rough coat, for she was all in gray, like a young Quakeress, with no ornament but a blue bow at the throat and another in the hair. Yet the plain suit became her excellently, and one never thought of the dress, looking at the active figure that wore it, for the freedom of her childhood gave to Polly that good gift, health, and every movement was full of the vigor, grace, and ease, which nothing else can so surely bestow. A happy soul in a healthy body is a rare sight in these days, when doctors flourish and every one is ill, and this pleasant union was the charm which Polly possessed without knowing it.
"It does seem so good to have you here again," said Maud, cuddling Polly's cold hand, as she sat at her feet, when she was fairly established between Fanny and Mr. Shaw, while Tom leaned on the back of his mother's chair, and enjoyed the prospect.
"How do you get on? When do you begin? Where is your nest? Now tell all about it," began Fanny, who was full of curiosity about the new plan.
"I shall get on very well, I think, for I've got twelve scholars to begin with, all able to pay a good price, and I shall give my first lesson on Monday."
"Don't you dread it?" asked Fanny.
"Not much; why should I?" answered Polly, stoutly.
"Well, I don't know; it's a new thing, and must be a little bit hard at first," stammered Fanny, not liking to say that working for one's living seemed a dreadful hardship to her.
"It will be tiresome, of course, but I shall get used to it; I shall like the exercise, and the new people and places I must see will amuse me. Then the independence will be delightful, and if I can save a little to help Kitty along with, that will be best of all."
Polly's