borough, very elegant and fashionable in his Eton jacket, white waistcoat, and light trousers. His very shiny top hat was pushed on to the back of his head, for the morning was hot and the four flights of stairs consequently mountainous.
"Why—why, it's Ronald!" cried Pollyooly; and her clear, pale cheeks flushed scarlet; and her eyes shone on him with more than the radiance of sapphires.
"By Jove! It's Mary!" cried Ronald; and his dark eyes brightened with an equal pleasure.
They shook hands, and Pollyooly led the way into the sitting-room, where, at the sight of a stranger, the Lump rose from the floor and gazed at Ronald with solemn eyes.
"It's my little brother, Roger. But everybody calls him the Lump," said Pollyooly, by way of explanation and introduction.
"Goodness! He is red-headed. His hair is redder than yours," said Ronald, with the frankness of the astonished.
"He is a cherub—a genuine cherub—everybody says so," said Pollyooly quickly and with decision.
"Ah, yes," said Ronald a little vaguely.
