She read it once--twice--without comment, and then her features began to work. 'Dear Aunt Milly, how unhappy he is--he--Roy; he cannot have done anything wrong?' 'No, no, my precious; of course not!' 'Then why must we not help him to bear it?' 'We can pray for him, Polly.' 'Yes, yes, but I cannot understand it,' piteously. 'I have always been Roy's friend--always, and now he has made Richard and you his confidants.' 'We are older and wiser, you see,' began Richard, with glib hypocrisy, which did not become him. Polly stamped her little foot with impatience. 'Don't, Richard. I will not have you talk to me as though I were a child. I have a right to know this; you are all treating me badly. Roy would have told me, I know he would, if Aunt Milly had not come between us!' and she darted a quick reproachful look at Mildred. 'It is Polly who is hard on us, I think,' returned Mildred, putting her arm gently round the excited girl; and at the fond tone Polly's brief wrath evaporated. 'I cannot help it,' she returned, hiding her face on Mildred's shoulder; 'it is all so wretched, everything is spoiled. Roy is not pleased that I am going to be married, he seems angry--put out about it; it is not that--it cannot be that that is the matter with him? Why do you not answer?' she continued, impatiently, looking at them both with wide-open innocent eyes. 'Roy cannot be jealous?' Mildred would have given worlds to have been able to answer No, but, unused to evasion of any kind, the prudent falsehood died a natural death upon her lips. 'My dear Polly, what makes you so fanciful?' she began with difficulty; but it was enough,--Mildred's face could not deceive, and that moment's hesitating silence revealed the truth to the startled girl; her faithful friend was hurt, jealous. 'You see yourself that Rex wants you to be happy,' continued Mildred, somewhat inconsequently. 'I shall be happy if he be so--not unless,' replied the girl, a little sadly. Her pretty pink colour had faded, her hands dropped from Mildred's shoulder; she stood for a long time quiet with her lips apart, her young head drooping almost to her breast. 'Shall you answer his letter, Polly?' asked Richard at last, trying to rouse her. 'Yes--no,' she faltered, turning very pale. 'Give my love to him, Richard--my dear love. I--I will write presently,' and so saying, she slowly and dejectedly left the room. 'Aunt Milly, do you think she guesses?' whispered Richard, when she had gone. 'Heaven only knows, Richard! This is a wretched business; there seems nothing but trouble everywhere,' and Mildred almost wrung her hands. Richard thought he had never seen her so agitated--so unlike herself.