to get the music-roll out of her hand.

"Take care how you talk against this," cried Polly, hugging it closer.
"Indeed you shall not touch it, till you are glad that I am a music
teacher. Oh, I must tell you--I was on my way to your house because I
was afraid you wouldn't understand a note. I can't go to-night."

"Can't go to-night?" repeated Pickering, in his astonishment forgetting
all his manners. "Why, Polly Pepper, what do you mean?"

"Why, I must give it up," cried Polly nervously; "don't ask me--or
perhaps I ought to tell you, Pickering, then you'll see I can't help
myself." And Polly rapidly unfolded her plan for the evening, omitting
all details as to Amy's careless waste of her lessons despite all
efforts to make her practice. At the end of the recital, Pickering Dodge
came to a full pause on the sidewalk, regardless of all passers-by, and
turned a glowering face on Polly, who was forced to stand still also,
and look at him.

"What idiocy!" he exclaimed, "to give up D'Albert for that ignoramus!
Polly, are you losing your senses?"

"I don't know," said poor Polly, who had lost the first flush of
enthusiasm over her plan, and to whom nothing now seemed so delightful
as the sight and sound of D'Albert and his wonderful melody. "Well, it's
done, so don't tempt me to feel badly, Pickering."

"Indeed, and it's not done," said Pickering angrily; "you made the
engagement, Polly. I never knew you to break one before," he added
stingingly.