t it used to be. But I have laid by,
and when it comes to the solemn hour then Mr. Walker has promised to
make my will. All I want to say is that there may be more than you
think for and if you are respectable I think it most likely all will be
yours. But listen to this, if you disgrace yourself, my girl, not one
halfpenny nor yet one sixpenny piece will you receive from

"Your affectionate father

"EBENEZER SPARKES

"P.S.--This is wrote in a very serious mind."

This epistle at once pleased and angered Polly. Though a greedy she was
not a mercenary young woman; she had little cunning, and her vulgar
ambitions were consistent with a good deal of honest feeling. To do her
justice, she had never considered the possibility that her father might
have money to bequeath; his disclosure surprised her, and caused her to
reflect for the first time that Chaffey's head waiter had long held a
tolerably lucrative position, whilst his expenses must have been
trivial; so much the better for her. On the other hand, she strongly
resented his suspicions and warnings. In the muddled obscurity of
Polly's consciousness there was a something which stood for womanly
pride. She knew very well what dangers perpetually surrounded her, and
she contrasted herself with the girls who weakly, or recklessly, threw
themselves away. Divided thus between injury and gratitude she speedily
answered her father's letter, writing upon a sheet of scented
grass-green note-paper, deeply ribbed, which made her pen blot,
splutter, and sprawl far more than it would have done on a smooth
surface.

"DEAR DAD,

"In reply to yours, what I have to say is, Aunt Louisa and Mrs. Bubb
are nasty cats, and I don't think them for making a bother. It is very
kind of you about your will, though I'm sure, if you believe me, I
don't want not yet to see you in your grave; and what I do think is,
you might have a better opinion of your daughter and not think all the
bad things you can turn your mind to. And if it is me that dies first,
you will be sorry for the wrong you done me. So I will say no more,
dear dad.

"From your loving

"POLLY"

CHAPTER VII

POLLY'S WRATH

Polly posted her letter on the way to the theatre. This evening she had
a private engagement for ten o'clock, and on setting forth to the
appointed place she looked carefully about her to make sure that no one
watched or followed her. Christopher Parish was not the only young man
who had a