"Yes, ma'am," said Pollyooly dropping a curtsey, like the well-mannered child she was.
"Well, I'm the Esmeralda, the dancer," said the vision, her face all alight with eagerness. "I want a little girl to dance with me in a fairy dance at the Varolium. I've tried at the dancing schools in London without finding the exact right one; then I saw the picture of you in the Blue Magazine, and I was sure that you were just what I wanted, if you could dance a little. I went to Mr. Vance; and he gave me your address, and told me that you could dance, because the first time he saw you, you were dancing to a barrel organ."
"Yes, ma'am," said Pollyooly.
"Well, it isn't really dancing I want from you, only just to move about lightly, and be a fairy in the picture; and I'll pay you a pound a week," said the Esmeralda, with the same eager quickness.
"A pound a week?" said Pollyooly; and her blue eyes opened very wide, shining.
"Yes; and I'll find your dresses—and send you home every night after the show. But perhaps I'd better arrange it with your father and mother," said the Esmeralda quickly.
