"Why, he's clean!" said Mr. James with the liveliest surprise.
"The Lump's always clean, sir," said Pollyooly.
"There! He's always clean," cried the big man. "Will you be my model, little girl?"
Pollyooly considered for a moment: here was wealth indeed. Then she said loyally, "I could do it in the afternoon without interfering with my work, if Mr. Ruffin would let me; but I should have to ask him."
"Bother Mr. Ruffin!" cried the big man with tremendous impatience.
"Mr. Ruffin won't say 'no,' when he learns that it's eighteen shillings a week. He'll drown—in floods of unexpected beer," said Mr. James.
"No: he wouldn't! He's a gentleman. He lives in the Temple. I'm his housekeeper; and he doesn't drink beer. It isn't good enough for him," said Pollyooly with indignant heat.
"Oh, come: beer is good enough for any man," said the big man in a pained tone.
"It must be our friend the Honorable John," said Mr. James.
