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HAPPY POLLYOOLY
The Rich Little Poor Girl
by
EDGAR JEPSON
Author of
Pollyooly, Whitaker's Dukedom, Etc.
With Illustrations by Reginald Birch
[Frontispiece: She bit the end of her pencil]
Indianapolis
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
Publishers
Copyright 1915
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE HONOURABLE JOHN RUFFIN MAKES AN ARRANGEMENT
II HILARY VANCE FINDS A CONFIDANTE
III THE INFURIATED SWAINS
IV THE DUCHESS HAS AN IDEA
V POLLYOOLY IS CALLED IN
VI POLLYOOLY PLAYS HER FAVOURITE PART
VII POLLYOOLY PLAYS THE GOOD SAMARITAN
VIII THE QUESTION OF A HOME
IX THE RELUCTANT DUKE
X POLLYOOLY AND THE LUMP GO TO THE SEASIDE
XI POLLYOOLY MEETS THE UNPLEASANT PRINCE
XII WHAT THE PRINCE ASKED FOR
XIII THE RAPPROCHEMENT
XIV THE TRAINING OF ROYALTY
XV THE ATTITUDE OF THE GRAND DUKE
XVI POLLYOOLY ENTERTAINS ROYALTY
XVII THE DUKE HAS AN IDEA
XVIII THE DUKE'S IDEA TAKES FORM
XIX POLLYOOLY IS INTRODUCED TO THE COUNTY
XX POLLYOOLY AND THE DUKE
XXI LORD RONALD RICKSBOROUGH COMES TO THE COURT
XXII THE DUKE WINS
ILLUSTRATIONS
She bit the end of the pencil . . . _Frontispiece_
She tiptoed about with hunched shoulders
They slept on the bench
The Duke gazed at her in dismal discomfort
"You keep away"
They turned to see the Duchess
HAPPY POLLYOOLY
CHAPTER I
THE HONOURABLE JOHN RUFFIN MAKES AN ARRANGEMENT
The angel child looked at the letter from Buda-Pesth with lively
interest, for she knew that it came from her friend and patroness
Esmeralda, the dancer, who was engaged in a triumphant tour of the
continent of Europe. She put it on the top of the pile of letters,
mostly bills, which had come for her employer, the Honourable John
Ruffin, set the pile beside his plate, and returned to the preparation of
his breakfast.
She looked full young to hold the post of house-keeper to a barrister of
the Inner Temple, for she was not yet thirteen; but there was an
uncommonly capable intentness in her deep blue eyes as she watched the
bacon, sizzling on the grill, for the right moment to turn the rashers.
She never missed it. Now and again those deep blue eyes sparkled at the
thought that the Honourable John Ruffin would presently give her news of
her brilliant friend.
She heard him come out of his bedroom, and at once dished up his bacon,
and carried it into his sitting-room. She found him already reading the
letter, and saw that it was giving him no pleasure. His lips were set in
a thin line; there was a frown on his brow and an angry gleam in his grey
eyes. She knew that of all the emotions which moved him, anger was the
rarest; indeed she could only remember having once seen him angry: on the
occasion on which he had smitten Mr. Montague Fitzgerald on the head when
that shining moneylender was trying to force from her the key of his
chambers; and she wondered what had been happening to the Esmeralda to
annoy him. She was too loyal to suppose that anything that the Esmeralda
had herself done could be annoying him.
He ate his breakfast more slowly than usual, and with a brooding air.
His eyes never once, as was their custom, rested with warm appreciation
on Pollyooly's beautiful face, set in its aureole of red hair; he did not
enliven his meal by talking to her about the affairs of the moment. She
respected his musing, and waited on him in silence. She had cleared away
the breakfast tray and was folding the table-cloth when, at last, he
broke his thoughtful silence.
"There's nothing for it: I must go to Buda-Pesth," he said with a
resolute air.
"There's nothing the matter with the Esmeralda, sir?" said Pollyooly with
quick anxiety.
"There's something very much the matter with the Esmeralda--a
Moldo-Wallachian," said the Honourable John Ruffin with stern coldness.
"Is it an illness, sir?" said Pollyooly yet more anxiously.
"No; it's a nobleman," said the Honourable John Ruffin with even colder
sternness.
Pollyooly pondered the matter for a few seconds; then she said: "Is
he--is he persecuting her, sir, like Senor Perez did when I was dancing
with her in 'Titania's Awakening'?"
"It ought to be a persecution; but I fear it isn't," said the Honourable
John Ruffin grimly. "I gather from this letter that she is regarding his
attentions, which, I am sure, consist chiefly of fulsome flattery and
uncouth gifts, with positive approbation."
Pollyooly pondered this information also; then she said:
"Is she going to marry him, sir?"
"She is not!" said the Honourable John Ruffin in a tone of the deepest
conviction but rather loudly.
Pollyooly looked at him and waited for further information to throw light
on his manifest disturbance of spirit.
He drummed a tattoo on the bare table with his fingers, frowning the
while; then he said:
"Constancy to the ideal, though perhaps out of place in a man, is alike
woman's privilege and her duty. I should be sorry--indeed I should be
deeply shocked if the Esmeralda were to fail in that duty."
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly in polite sympathy, though she had not the
slightest notion what he meant.
"Especially since I took such pains to present to her the true ideal--the
English ideal," he went on. "Whereas this Moldo-Wallachian--at least
that's what I gather from this letter--is merely handsome in that cheap
and obvious South-European way--that is to say he has big, black eyes,
probably liquid, and a large, probably flowing, moustache. Therefore I
go to Buda-Pesth."
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with the same politeness and in the same
ignorance of his reason for going.
"I shall wire to her to-day--to give her pause--and to-morrow I shall
start." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment, then went
on: "I should like to take you with me, for I know how helpful you can be
in the matter of these insolent and infatuated foreigners. But
Buda-Pesth is too far away. And the question is what I am going to do
with you while I'm away."
"We can stay here all right, sir--the Lump and me," said Pollyooly
quickly, with a note of surprise in her voice.
Her little brother, Roger, who lived with her in the airy attic above the
Honourable John Ruffin's chambers, had acquired the name of "The Lump"
from his admirable placidity.
"I don't like the idea of your doing that," he said, shaking his head and
frowning. "I don't know how long I may be away--the affirmation of the
ideal is sometimes a lengthy process. Of course the Temple is a quiet
place; but I don't like to leave two small children alone in it for a
fortnight, or three weeks. It isn't as if Mr. Gedge-Tomkins were at
home. If he were at hand--just across the landing, it would be a very
different matter."
"But I'm _sure_ we should be all right, sir," said Pollyooly with entire
confidence.
"Oh, I'm bound to say that if any child in the world could take care of
herself and a little brother, it's you," he said handsomely. "But I want
to devote all my energies to the affirmation of the ideal; and I must not
be troubled by anxiety about you. I shall have to dispose of you safely
somehow."
With that he rose, lighted a cigar, and presently sallied forth into the
world. The matter of learning the quickest way to Buda-Pesth and
procuring a ticket for the morrow took him little more than half an hour.
Then the matter of disposing safely of Pollyooly and the Lump during his
absence rose again to his mind and he walked along pondering it.
Presently there came to him a happy thought: there was their common
friend, Hilary Vance, an artist who had employed Pollyooly as his model
for a set of stories for _The Blue Magazine_. Hilary Vance was devoted
to Pollyooly, and he had a spare bedroom. But for a while the Honourable
John Ruffin hesitated; the artist was a man of an uncommonly mercurial,
irresponsible temperament. Was it safe to entrust two small children to
his care? Then he reflected that Pollyooly was a strong corrective of
irresponsibility, and took a taxicab to Chelsea.
Hilary Vance, very broad, very thick, very round, with a fine, rebellious
mop of tow-coloured hair, which had fallen forward so as nearly to hide
his big, simple eyes, opened the door to him. At the sight of his
visitor a spacious round smile spread over his spacious face; and he
welcomed him with an effusive enthusiasm.
At his christening the good fairy had given to the Honourable John Ruffin
a very lively interest in his fellow-creatures and a considerable power
of observation with which to gratify it. He was used to the splendid
expansiveness of Hilary Vance; but it seemed to him that to-day he was
boiling with an added exuberance; and that curiosity was aroused. He
took up a chair and hammered its back on the floor so that the dust fell
off the seat, sat down astride it, and, bending forward a little,
proceeded to observe the artist with very keen eyes. Hilary Vance, who
was very busy, fell to work again, and after his manner, grew
grandiloquent about the pleasures of the day before, which he had spent
in the country.
Soon it grew clear to the Honourable John Ruffin that his friend had
swollen with the insolent happiness so hateful to the Fates, and he said:
"You seem to be uncommonly cheerful, Vance. What's the matter?"
Hilary Vance looked at him gravely, drew himself upright in his chair,
laid down his pencil, and said in a tone of solemnity calculated to
awaken the deepest respect and awe:
"Ruffin, I have found a woman--a WOMAN!"
The quality of the Honourable John Ruffin's gaze changed; his eyes rested
on the face of his friend with a caressing, almost cherishing, delight.
"Isn't it becoming rather a habit?" he said blandly.
"I don't know what you mean," said Hilary Vance with splendid dignity.
"But this is different. This is a WOMAN!"
His face filled with an expression of the finest beatitude.
"They so often are," said the Honourable John Ruffin. "Does James know
about her?"
At the sound of the name of the mentor and friend who had rescued him
from so many difficulties, something of guilt mingled with the beatitude
on Hilary Vance's face, and he said in a less assured tone:
"James is in Scotland."
The Honourable John Ruffin sprang from his chair with a briskness which
made Hilary Vance himself jump, and cried in a tone of the liveliest
commiseration and dismay:
"Good Heavens! Then you're lost--lost!"
"What do you mean?" said Hilary Vance quite sharply.
"I mean that your case is hopeless," said the Honourable John Ruffin in a
less excited tone. "_James_ is in Scotland; _I'm_ off to Buda-Pesth; and
_you_ have found a WOMAN--probably THE WOMAN."
"I don't know what you mean," said Hilary Vance, frowning.
"That's the worst of it! That's why it's so hopeless!" said the
Honourable John Ruffin in a tone of deep depression.
"What do you mean?" cried Hilary Vance in sudden bellow.
"Good-bye, old chap; good-bye," said the Honourable John Ruffin in the
most mournful tone and with the most mournful air. "I _can not_ save
you. I've got to go to Buda-Pesth." He walked half-way to the door,
turned sharply on his heel, clapped his hand to his head with the most
dramatic gesture, and cried: "Stay! I'll wire to James!"
"I'm damned if you do!" bellowed Hilary Vance.
"I must! I must!" cried the Honourable John Ruffin, still dramatic.
"You don't know his address, thank goodness!" growled Hilary Vance
triumphantly. "And you won't get it from me."
"I shan't? Then it's hopeless indeed," said the Honourable John Ruffin
with a gesture of despair. He stood and seemed to plunge into deep
reflection, while Hilary Vance scowled an immense scowl at him.
The Honourable John Ruffin allowed a faint air of hope to lighten his
gloom; then he said:
"There's a chance--there's yet a chance!"
"I don't want any chance!" cried Hilary Vance stormily. "You can jolly
well mind your own business and leave me alone. I can look after myself
without any help from you--or James either."
"Whom the gods wish to destroy they first madden young," said the
Honourable John Ruffin sadly. "But there's always Pollyooly; she may
save you yet. I came to suggest that while I'm away in Buda-Pesth you
should let Pollyooly and the Lump occupy that spare bedroom of yours. I
don't like leaving them alone in the Temple; and I thought that you might
like to have them here for a while, though I fear Pollyooly will clean
the place." He looked round the studio gloomily. "But you can stand
that for once, I expect," he went on more cheerfully. "At any rate it
would be worth your while, because you'd learn what grilled bacon really
is."
At the mention of the name of Pollyooly the scowl on Hilary Vance's face
began to smooth out; as the Honourable John Ruffin developed his
suggestion it slowly disappeared.
"Oh, yes; I'll put them up. I shall be delighted to," he said eagerly.
"Pollyooly gives more delight to my eye than any one I know. And there
are so few people in town, and I'm lonely at times. I wish I liked
bacon, since she is so good at grilling it; but I don't."
The Honourable John Ruffin came several steps down the room wearing an
air of the wildest amazement:
"You don't like bacon?" he cried in astounded tones. "That explains
everything. I've always wondered about you. Now I know. You are one of
those whom the gods love; and I can't conceive why you didn't die
younger."
"I don't know what you mean," said Hilary Vance, bristling and scowling
again.
"You don't? Well, it doesn't matter. But I'm really very much obliged
to you for relieving me of all anxiety about those children."
They discussed the hour at which Pollyooly and the Lump should come, and
then the Honourable John Ruffin held out his hand.
But Hilary Vance rose and came to the front door with him. On the
threshold he coughed gently and said:
"I should like you to see Flossie."
"Flossie?" said the Honourable John Ruffin. "Ah--the WOMAN." He looked
at Hilary Vance very earnestly. "Yes, I see--I see--of course her name
would be Flossie." Then he added sternly:
"No; if I saw her James might accuse me of having encouraged you. He
would, in fact. He always does."
"She's only at the florist's just at the end of the street," said Hilary
Vance in a persuasive tone.
"She would be," said the Honourable John Ruffin in a tone of
extraordinary patience. "I don't know why it is that the WOMAN is so
often at a florist's at the end of the street. It seems to be one of
nature's strange whims." His face grew very gloomy again and in a very
sad tone he added:
"Good-bye, poor old chap; good-bye!"
He shook hands firmly with his puzzled friend and started briskly up the
street. Ten yards up it he paused, turned and called back:
"She's everything that's womanly, isn't she?"
"Yes--everything," cried Hilary Vance with fervour.
The Honourable John Ruffin shook his head sadly and without another word
walked briskly on.
Hilary Vance, still looking puzzled, shut the door and went back to his
studio. He failed, therefore, to perceive the Honourable John Ruffin
enter the florist's shop at the end of the street. He did not come out
of it for a quarter of an hour, and then he came out smiling. Seeing
that he only brought with him a single rose, he had taken some time over
its selection.