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Updated: June 26, 2025
Moreover he felt a sad prescience that his young charge, careless of the magnificent blood that flowed in his veins, would play with these children, who were neither high nor well-born. But he was quite unprepared for the actual group of children his young charge chose for playmates. He passed no less than four animated and excited groups before he arrived at that adorned and ruled by Pollyooly.
"You?" said the Honourable John Ruffin very doubtfully. "I don't think that would do at all. You see there was that business of his kidnapping you in Piccadilly and carrying you off to Ricksborough House. He's not at all the kind of man to forget that he played the fool and had to pay you six pounds for doing it." "But, please, sir, that wasn't my fault," said Pollyooly. "No: it was his.
"Rubbish!" and "Piffle!" Once he said in a bitterly scoffing tone: "I suppose your precious guv'ner thinks he's got the artistic temperament." "I don't know," said Pollyooly. He squared briskly up to an easel, danced lightly on his toes before it, and said: "I'll give him the artistic temperament all right."
She helped Pollyooly with the work of the two sets of chambers, displaying a considerable lack of knowledge and efficiency, and played untiringly with the Lump. Between their dinner and the Honourable John Ruffin's tea she and Pollyooly hunted for work for her. Mr. Hilary Vance would have been an ideal, unexacting employer for her; but he was on the point of going to Paris for six months.
But it'll take a lot of working, and I'm wondering whether that little housekeeper of yours what's her name Mary Bride will be up to it." "What on earth has Pollyooly got to do with it?" cried the Honourable John Ruffin. "A lot," said the duke firmly. "You know how like Marion she is. Why, even Mrs. Hutton, who'd been with Marion for years, couldn't tell them apart.
But Flossie herself looked to be in a state of considerable perturbation. "Is Mr. Vance in?" she said somewhat breathlessly. She seemed to have been hurrying, and the hat was a little on one side. Pollyooly eyed her with some disfavour, and said coldly: "No, he isn't." "Will he be in soon?" said Flossie anxiously. "I don't know," said Pollyooly yet more coldly.
Pollyooly frowned deeply at the thought that had not Miss Belthorp lingered with them, they would by now have been safely hidden in some recess of the wood. For the moment she almost wished that the Lump were not so attractive. But very soon she was serene again.
"Yes: her name is Millicent Saunders; and they wanted to send her to the workhouse because her mother died who used to dance at the Varolium in the second row, but of course I couldn't let them do that, could I?" said Pollyooly in an explanatory tone. "I don't know. What's it got to do with me?" said the duke quickly.
You've seen how that girl led me on to squander the treasure of a splendid passion on her unresponsive spirit while, all the time, she was abasing herself before a miserable, preposterous scoundrel like that ruffian Butterwick." "He was rather small," said Pollyooly thoughtfully. "But I daresay he'd make her a good husband. He looked quite respectable."
The wagonette drove off amid a loud chorus of farewells; and little given to the softer emotions as Pollyooly was, there were tears in her eyes as she looked back on the friends she was leaving. Her last sight of the prince was somewhat depressing: in a final access of despair he was kicking the baron's shins.
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