it--just hear me, you know, and tell me things you did, over again,
about it, if I practice all the afternoon? Could you?"

"This evening, do you mean?" asked Polly, a trifle sharply.

"Yes," said Amy faintly, and twisting her handkerchief. "Oh dear me, I
know you're so tired. What shall I do?"

"But you don't understand," cried Polly, vexed with herself that she
couldn't help her annoyance from being seen. "I shall put some one else
out if I give up my evening. I have an engagement, Amy. No, I don't see
how I can do it, child; I'm sorry." And then before she knew how, she
put both arms around the little figure. "Don't cry, dear, I suppose I
must. I'll get out of the other thing. Yes, fly at Chopin, and keep your
courage up, and I'll be over at seven. Then to-morrow Brother Jack will
say 'How fine!' and off you'll go over the seas!"

Outside, Polly, after enlisting Miss Salisbury's favor for the evening's
plan, was hurrying along the pavement, calling herself an hundred
foolish names for helping an idle girl out of a scrape. "And to think of
losing the only chance to hear D'Albert," she mourned. "Well, it's done
now, and can't be helped. Even Jasper when he hears of it, will think me
a silly, I suppose. Now to make my peace with Pickering."

She turned down the avenue running out from the street that had the
honor to contain "Miss Salisbury's Boarding and Day School for Young
Ladies," and met face to face, suddenly, a young man, about whose joy at
meeting her, there could be no doubt.

"Oh, Polly!" he cried, "here, let me take that detestable thing!" trying