her beautiful lips. Now and again, however, a faint frown knitted her brow as she considered the importance of her mission and the grave responsibility which rested on her.
The Lump was no less content. With the air of an immature shepherd he drew his woolly lamb by a string along the smooth pavement.
They walked slowly down to the entrance of the park, and, just as they came to it, a kind but sallow lady of some fifty-five winters stopped them, and bought a bunch of violets. Then she began to make inquiries about their home and parents.
Pollyooly was taken aback. It was an event for which she had not bargained. She answered the questions about her parents easily enough, for they had been dead several years. But over the question of domicile she hesitated. The Honorable John Ruffin's statement that it was beneath the dignity of his housekeeper to sell flowers in the street had stuck in her mind; and of that position she was growing prouder and prouder the longer she held it.
For a full minute she was at a loss for words, then she stammered: "Please, we live with Mr. Ruffin, and he wouldn't like us to say where."
