But one night, when he ventured to stay out till after midnight, just as he was stealing in softly, Mrs.Oliver's gentle voice came from the head of the stairs, saying, "Good-night, Edgar, the lamp is lighted in your room!" Edgar closed his door and sat down disconsolately on the bed, cane in hand, hat on the back of his head.

The fire had burned, to a few glowing coals; his slippers lay on the hearth, and his Christmas "easy jacket" hung over the back of his great armchair; his books lay open under the student-lamp, and there were two vases of fresh flowers in the room: that was Polly's doing.
"Mrs.Oliver was awake and listening for me; worrying about me, probably; I dare say she thought I 'd been waylaid by bandits," he muttered discontentedly.

"I might as well live in the Young Women's Christian Association! I can't get mad with an angel, but I did n't intend being one myself! Good gracious! why don't they hire me a nurse and buy me a perambulator!" But all the rest was perfect; and his chief chums envied him after they had spent an evening with the Olivers.

Polly and he had ceased to quarrel, and were on good, frank, friendly terms.

"She is no end of fun," he would have told you; "has no nonsensical young-lady airs about her, is always ready for sport, sings all kinds of songs from grave to gay, knows a good joke when you tell one, and keeps a fellow up to the mark as well as a maiden aunt." All this was delightful to everybody concerned.