Edgar Jepson

“ What a game! Oh, woman—woman!" said the Honorable John Ruffin softly; and he laughed.
"Do you think that she'll be able to do it without giving the show away?" said the duchess, looking at him anxiously.
"It's a difficult game, of course. But if there's a child in England who can play it, it's Pollyooly," he said with decision. "After all, Marion has always seemed to me a very quiet child; and all a little girl is expected to do is to lie low and say nothing."
"She looks intelligent enough," answered the duchess.
"A fertile mind—full of resource," said the Honorable John Ruffin. ”

“ It soon grew plain that Diego Perez had come to England in pursuit of the Esmeralda, and he became her yellow shadow. He took up his abode at the Savoy; and she hardly ever came out of her rooms without finding him, bowing and smiling with a conquering air, somewhere on her path to the street.
He was always at the stage-door to greet her as she came out after her performance. Did she lunch or dine at a restaurant, he sat gazing at her in his passionate way. Every day he sent her flowers—to her rooms and to the theater; sometimes there was a bracelet or a ring with the flowers ”

“ James unsympathetically.
"But here—here in Alsatia we have seen a fairy dance," cried the big man with a loudness little short of roaring.
"You idealists!" said Mr. James in a scoffing tone.
"You moderns! You disgusting moderns!" cried the big man indignantly. "What's your name, little girl?"
"Pollyooly, sir," said Pollyooly, dropping a curtsey, like the well-mannered child she was; and she took the Lump's hand.
"Pollyooly, the Queen of the slum fairies," said the big man. "Well, I want a model for a set of fairy stories I'm illustrating; and you're the very model I want. ”

“ She isn't Marion at all. She's Mary Bride—John Ruffin's housekeeper. She has been for months," said Ronald.
"Yes; that's who I am; and I've got a little brother called Roger—so there!" said Pollyooly, with a truculence that more than matched the duke's.
"Yes; she has. I've seen him," said Ronald. "I went to the Temple to see John Ruffin, and I found her there; and she's so like Marion I asked her to come out with me. And she's been on the stage, which Marion couldn't have done, because she's too much of a duffer—dancing with the Esmeralda at the Varolium. Hundreds of people can tell you so." ”

“ Hilary Vance looked at her sadly and shook his head gloomily, "I'm afraid that association with that young aristocrat is corrupting you, Pollyooly."
"I'm sure it isn't!" said Pollyooly, in her indignant heat forgetting to be polite and say "sir."
"I'm a Socialist myself; and I'm thankful to say that I grow more and more class-conscious every day," said Hilary Vance still gloomily. "But if you feel it due to your personal human dignity to smack Henry Wiggins, you oughtn't to let your official dignity stand in your way." ”

“ The sour-faced dowager sniffed in a manner we are little used to associate with our aristocracy, and eyed the gift with cold scorn. The pretty girl bent hastily forward and took them.
"Thank you, you dear little boy," she said.
"Grizel! What a thing to do!" cried her mother. "Taking flowers from a red-headed little beggar! They're infectious! I'm sure of it! Throw them away at once!"
"He's quite a clean little boy, and the violets are quite fresh," said the pretty girl very firmly; and she put the shilling she had ready into the Lump's fat little hand.
"A shilling!" cried her mother. ”

“ Gedge-Tomkins rested on her thoughtfully. His work must not be interrupted again by watered whisky; he shrank from the trouble of seeking a new laundress.
"You can come back at once. Get my breakfast," he said in the surly tone of one who reluctantly yields under the pressure of circumstances.
Pollyooly's heart leaped with joy at this sudden, unexpected doubling of her income. It was on the tip of her tongue to accept the offer. But she checked herself, and gazed at Mr. Gedge-Tomkins with a cold eye:
"I couldn't come back for less than six shillings a week, sir," she said firmly. ”

“ A Royal Academician, not observing that she was far too clean for the real, would have burned to paint her on the spot: her angel face and limpid blue eyes were in such admirable accord with the innocent violets she bore.
That sedate but red-headed cherub, the Lump, added just the pretty final touch that completed the picture of the ideal.
Pollyooly's heart beat high, and by no means only with the mercenary anticipation of half-a-crown. She was full of the joyful sense of adventure; and angel smile after angel smile wreathed her beautiful lips. ”

“ If Pollyooly hadn't tried to keep her little brother out of the workhouse by concealing the fact that a blackguardly road-hog had run over her unfortunate aunt, I should have thought very poorly of her indeed."
"Ah, you're one of our unmoral aristocracy," said Mr. Gedge-Tomkins in a tone of sad indulgence. "I'm a plain Englishman."
"And you've got a plain Englishwoman—a devilish plain Englishwoman—for housekeeper. So if you're not happy, you ought to be," said the Honorable John Ruffin in the tone of one closing a discussion. ”

“ But to the eye of persons of taste she was the genuine angel child.
Even so was her little brother Roger, whose magnificent placidity had earned for him the name of "The Lump," the genuine cherub, with the round, chubby face, little curls, and Cupid's bow mouth of all the cherubs that the painters have limned, the sculptors carved. But in him also there was no slavish adherence to tradition: his curls, like Pollyooly's silken hair, were red. ”

“ Pollyooly looked at the extra five shillings with her brow knitted in a perplexed frown and said, "Please, sir, you've given me too much."
"No: three shillings for sitting and five for cleaning," said Hilary Vance.
"Oh, but five shillings is ever so much too much for a little bit of work like that!" said Pollyooly.
"Not at all!" cried Hilary Vance. "Five shillings is really too little. There's not only the actual work; there's the invaluable moral effect on my character. I have learned that I can be firm with a woman. I am another, stronger man." ”

“ Hutton dressed Pollyooly in a somewhat too elaborate frock of amber silk to have tea with him and Lady Salkeld.
When Pollyooly came into the drawing-room, she found not only the duke, but also his nephew and heir, Lord Ronald Ricksborough, a dark, good-looking boy of fourteen, of an almost girlish delicacy of complexion. The duke, a dapper little thin-lipped man of thirty-five with a small, unhappy drab mustache with which he for ever fidgeted, gave her an indifferent glance and protruded two limp fingers. Pollyooly shook them gingerly. ”

“ You're not Marion, and it's no good pretending you are—to me. Who are you?" said Ronald firmly.
Pollyooly said nothing; she scowled horribly at the innocent windmill.
"Now, out with it. If you tell me straight away I won't split. I give you my word," said Ronald earnestly.
Pollyooly shook her head; but her puckered brow smoothed a little.
"Now, come on. What's the good of keeping a secret which isn't a secret?" said Ronald, in a tone half pleading, half commanding.
"It all comes of not letting you do all the talking. But it was so sudden—that thing going round," said Pollyooly ruefully. ”

“ He's her young man," said Pollyooly.
"Her young man? What does this mean? Has she been playing with me false?" cried Hilary Vance in a rising tone of terrible wrath.
"This is news. Tell us all about it, Pollyooly," said Mr. James quietly.
"I can't. I mustn't tell tales," said Pollyooly in some distress.
"You may really tell us. It isn't really telling tales. It's—it's exposing a fraud—a very different matter," said Mr. James earnestly. "Tell us about Ermyntrude's young man—he really is her young man?"
"Oh, yes; he's going to marry her on Wednesday fortnight," said Pollyooly firmly. ”

“ But for all Pollyooly's wariness, when they were together, Ronald's face was never for long free from its puzzled air. She could not help the occasional display of an astounding ignorance. Above everything the changed behavior of the dogs puzzled him.
One day he said, "It's no good. I can't understand these dogs. You used to say that you didn't like dogs; but the thing was that the dogs didn't like you. They didn't find you sporting enough."
"Well, now they do. We all change: Miss Marlow said so," said Pollyooly quickly. ”