That engagement was such a farce, that she never had much faith in it, so she put her love away in a corner of her heart, and tried to forget it, hoping it would either die, or have a right to live.

It did n't make her very miserable, because patience, work, and common-sense lent her a hand, and hope would keep popping up its bright face from the bottom of her Pandora-box of troubles.

Now and then, when any one said Trix would n't jilt Tom, or that Tom did care for Trix more than he should, Polly had a pang, and thought she could n't possibly bear it.
But she always found she could, and so came to the conclusion that it was a merciful provision of nature that girls' hearts could stand so much, and their appetites continue good, when unrequited love was starving.
Now, she could not help yearning over this faulty, well-beloved scapegrace Tom, or help thinking, with a little thrill of hope, "If Trix only cared for his money, she may cast him off now he 's lost it; but I 'll love him all the better because he 's poor." With this feeling warm at her heart, I don't wonder that Polly's hand had a soothing effect, and that after a heave or two, Tom's shoulders were quiet, and certain smothered sniffs suggested that he would be all right again, if he could only wipe his eyes without any one's seeing him do it.
Polly seemed to divine his wish, and tucking a little, clean handkerchief into one of his half-open hands, she said, "I 'm going to your father, now," and with a farewell smooth, so comforting that Tom wished she 'd do it again, she went away.
As she paused a minute in the hall to steady herself, Maud called her from above, and thinking that the women might need her more than the men, she ran up to find Fanny waiting for her in her own room.
"Mamma's asleep, quite worn out, poor dear, so we can talk in here without troubling her," said Fanny, receiving her friend so quietly, that Polly was amazed.
"Let me come, too, I won't make any fuss; it 's so dreadful to be shut out everywhere, and have people crying and talking, and locked up, and I not know what it means," said Maud, beseechingly.
"You do know, now; I 've told her, Polly," said Fan, as they sat down together, and Maud perched herself on the bed, so that she might retire among the pillows if her feelings were too much for her.
"I 'm glad you take it so well, dear; I was afraid it might upset you," said Polly, seeing now that in spite of her quiet manner, Fan's eyes had an excited look, and her cheeks a feverish color.
"I shall groan and moan by and by, I dare say, but at first it sort of dazed me, and now it begins to excite me.

I ought to be full of sorrow for poor papa, and I am truly sorry, but, wicked as it may seem, it 's a fact, Polly, that I 'm half glad it 's happened, for it takes me out of myself, and gives me something to do." Fanny's eyes fell and her color rose as she spoke, but Polly understood why she wanted to forget herself, and put her arm round her with a more tender sympathy than Fanny guessed.
"Perhaps things are not as bad as they seem; I don't know much about such matters, but I 've seen people who have failed, and they seemed just as comfortable as before," said Polly.
"It won't be so with us, for papa means to give up everything, and not have a word said against him.

Mamma's little property is settled upon her, and has n't been risked.