She had burned two small blisters on her wrist: they were scarcely visible to the naked eye, but she succeeded in obtaining as much sympathy for them as if they had been mortal wounds.

Her mother murmured 'Poor darling wrist' and 'kissed the place to make it well.' Edgar found a bit of thin cambric and bound up the injured member with cooling flour, Mistress Polly looking demurely on, thinking meanwhile how much safer he was with them than with the objectionable Tony.

After the lamb-chops and peas had been discussed, Edgar insisted on changing the plates and putting on the tomato salad; then Polly officiated at the next course, bringing in coffee, sliced oranges, and delicious cake from the neighboring confectioner's.
"Can't I wash the dishes ?" asked Edgar, when the feast was ended.
"They are not going to be washed, at least by us.

This is a great occasion, and the little girl downstairs is coming up to clear away the dinner things." Then there was the pleasant parlor again, and when the candles were lighted in the old-fashioned mirror over the fireplace, everything wore a festive appearance.

The guitar was brought out, and Edgar sang college songs till Mrs.Oliver grew so bright that she even hummed a faint second from her cosy place on the sofa.
And then Polly must show Edgar how she had made Austin Dobson's "Milkmaid Song" fit "Nelly Ely," and she must teach him the pretty words.
"Across the grass, I saw her pass, She comes with tripping pace; A maid I know, And March winds blow Her hair across her face.
Hey! Dolly! Ho! Dolly! Dolly shall be mine, Before the spray is white with May Or blooms the eglantine." By this time the bandage had come off the burned wrist, and Edgar must bind it on again, and Polly shrieked and started when he pinned the end over, and Edgar turned pale at the thought of his brutal awkwardness, and Polly burst into a ringing peal of laughter and confessed that the pin had n't touched her, and Edgar called her a deceitful little wretch.