the rest of London, I'm looking forward with the wildest impatience to seeing you dance."
Murmuring a polite hope that he would not be disappointed, the Esmeralda sat down and said, "I've come about this little—"
He checked the words on her tongue with a wave of his hand, turned to Pollyooly, and said in grave tones:
"Did my horrified ears deceive me? Or did I hear you ask leave to go on the stage, Mrs Bride?"
"Yes, please, sir," said Pollyooly firmly.
He shook his head sadly, and said in a reproachful tone:
"Oh, Mrs. Bride, Mrs. Bride! This must be the result of your country up-bringing. No London child of twelve would dream of going on the stage. This is the pernicious effect of life at Muttle-Deeping."
"But it's a pound a week, sir," said Pollyooly, plucking at her frock. "And you told me to make all the money I could, and save all I could, because your creditors might win the victory and consign you to the deepest dungeon in Holloway Castle,
