'My dear Polly, is that a "crime"?' 'It is when people are in earnest I have said nothing that deserves laughing at--have I, Miss Lambert?' with a sweet, candid glance that won Mildred's heart. 'No, indeed; I was wishing that my nieces were like you.' 'I did not mean that--I was not asking for praise,' stammered Polly, turning a vivid scarlet. 'I only wanted my guardian to know that I should not be useless to him. I can do much more than that I can mend and darn better than Annette, who was three years older. You are smiling still.' 'If I smile, it is only with pleasure to know my poor friend had such a good daughter. Listen to me, Polly--how old are you?' 'Fourteen last February.' 'What a youthful Polly!--too young, I fear, to comprehend the position. And then with such Bohemian surroundings--that half-crazed painter, Fabian,' he muttered, 'and a purblind fiddler and his wife. My poor child,' he continued, laying his hand on her head lightly, and speaking as though moved in spite of himself, 'as long as you want a friend, you will never find a truer one than John Heriot. I will be your guardian, adopted father, what you will; but,' with a firmness of voice that struck the girl in spite of herself, 'I cannot have you to live with me, Polly.' 'Why not?' she asked, pleadingly. 'Because it would be placing us both in a false position; because I could not incur such a responsibility; because no one is so fit to take charge of a young girl as a good motherly woman, such as you will find, in Miss Lambert.' And as the girl looked at him bewildered and disappointed, he continued kindly, 'You must forget this pleasant dream, Polly; perhaps some day, when your guardian is gray-haired, it may come to pass; but I shall often think how good my adopted daughter meant to be to me.' 'Shall I never see you then?' asked Polly mournfully. If these were English ways, the girl thought, what a cold, heartless place it must be! Had not Mr. Fabian promised to adopt her if the English guardian should not be forthcoming? Even Herr Schreiber had offered to keep her out of his poor salary, when her father's death had left her dependent on the little community of struggling artists and musicians. Polly was having her first lesson in the troublesome _convenances_ of life, and to the affectionate, ardent girl it was singularly unpalatable. 'I am afraid you will see me every day,' replied her guardian, with much gravity. 'I shall not be many yards off--just round the corner, and across the market-place. No, no, Miss Polly; you will not get rid of me so easily. I mean to direct your studies, haunt your play-time, and be the cross old Mentor, as Olive calls me.' 'Oh, I am so glad!' returned the girl earnestly, and with a sparkle of pleasure in her eyes. 'I like you so much already that I could not bear you to do wrong.' It was Heriot's turn to look puzzled.