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Like the well-mannered child she was, Pollyooly dropped a curtsey. The grand duke seized her hand, and shook it warmly, and cried: "Mein Gott! if you were zeven five years elder, I would keess you! Bud id is far to sdoop. You haf done great good to my zon, ze Prince Adalbert. You haf made him peenk guite peenk; and you haf taught him ze creeket. Id iz sblendid; and you moost rewarded be.
It is hard to say whether the shriek of Pollyooly or the terrific bellow of his august sire was the sharper spur to the prince's legs; but he saved the rounder. "Sblendid! 'e did not roon like an ox," said the grand duke almost proudly. "Vhat did you write vas ze name of zat leedle anchel?"
The amazed Pollyooly flushed; and her eyes shone like bright stars; the family of Lippe-Schweidnitz rose a thousand feet in her estimation. "Oh! Thank you, your Highness!" she gasped. "Zere is no zanks nod none! You haf made Adalbert peenk. You are von sblendid anchel child. And id iz me to zank you," said the grand duke; and very gently, for the size of his fingers, he patted her head.
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