money. When they have been soothed, he and she will be square—that is, quits."
"Oh, I see, sir," said Pollyooly, flushing faintly to have made so foolish a mistake. Then she added firmly, "But it would be a pity to pay money to a girl like that."
"It would," said the Honorable John Ruffin sadly. "But it will have to be."
On the Sunday the sun was shining very brightly and the longing for open green spaces came on the country soul of Pollyooly. In Hilary Vance's studio she had heard talk of Battersea Park, and reckless of extravagant tram-fares she resolved to take the Lump to it. As soon therefore as she had finished her work, she packed up some bread and butter, filled a bottle with milk, and set out.
They reached the park in less than an hour and at once ate their dinner on the turf of the first lawn they came to. Then they wandered about, resting when the need took them, enjoying the fresh air, the sunshine, the flowers, and the glimpses of the shining river.
Then, as they came out of a side-path on to a shady lawn, the Lump extended a short and very
