ing, such opportunities had indeed come
in his way, and, with his generous optimism, he was content to ignore
the fact that only the money was wanting.

"What's wrong with Polly Sparkes?" inquired the young lady presently,
again sending a waft of cloves into Gammon's face.

"That's what I want to know," he answered facetiously.

"She's awful cut up about something. I thought you was sure to know
what it was, Mr. Gammon. She says a lot of you has been using her
shimeful."

"Oh, she does, does she?"

"You should hear her talk! Now it's her landlydy--now it's her
awnt--now it's I don't know who. To hear her--she's been used shimeful.
She says she's been drove out of the 'ouse. I didn't think it of _you_,
Mr. Gammon."

At the moment the bus was drawing slowly near to a popular wine-shop.
Mr. Nibby whispered to Miss Waghorn, who dropped her eyes and looked
demure; whereupon he addressed Gammon.

"What do you say to a glass of dry sherry, sir?"

"Right you are, sir!"

So the omnibus was stopped to allow Miss Waghorn to alight, and all
three turned into the wine-shop. Dry sherry not being to Miss Waghorn's
taste she chose sweet port, drinking it as one to the manner born, and
talking the while in hoarse whispers, with now and then an outburst of
shrill laughter. The dark, narrow space before the counter or bar was
divided off with wooden partitions as at a pawnbroker's; each
compartment had a high stool for the luxuriously inclined, and along
the wall ran a bare wooden bench. Not easily could a less inviting
place of refreshment have been constructed; but no such thought
occurred to its frequenters, who at this hour were numerous. Squeezed
together in a stifling atmosphere of gas and alcohol, with nothing to
look at but the row of great barrels whence the wine was drawn, these
merry folk quenched their midsummer thirst and gave their wits a jog,
and drank good fellowship with merciless ill-usage of the Queen's
English. Miss Waghorn talked freely of Polly Sparkes, repeating all the
angry things that Polly had said, and persistingly wanting to know what
the "bother" was all about.

"It's for her own good," said Gammon with significant brevity.

He did not choose to say more or to ask any questions which might turn
to Polly's disadvantage. For his own part he seldom gave a thought to
the girl, and was far from imagining that she cared whether he kept on
friendly terms with her or not. At his landlady's suggestion he