sorry for them"--she herself would have
given the dress off her back. "And I think, dear, if you didn't mind
VERY much, we might ask one of the girls up to stay with us ... till
the worst is over."

"Yes, I suppose that wouldn't be impossible," said Mahony. "If you've
set your heart on it, my Polly. If, too, you can persuade Master Purdy
to forgo the comfort of your good feather-bed. And I'll see if I can
wring out a fiver for you to enclose in your letter."

Polly jumped up and kissed him. "Purdy is going anyhow. He said only
last night he must look for lodgings near the Police Station." Here a
thought struck her; she coloured and smiled. "I'll ask Tilly first,"
said she.

Mahony laughed and shook his finger at her. "The best laid plans o'
mice and men! And what's one to say to a match-maker who is still
growing out of her clothes?"

At this Polly clapped a hand over his mouth, for fear Ellen should hear
him. It was a sore point with her that she had more than once of late
had to lengthen her dresses.

As soon as she was alone she sat down to compose a reply to Mrs.
Beamish. It was no easy job: she was obliged to say that Richard felt
unable to come to their aid; and, at the same time, to avoid touching
on his private affairs; had to disappoint as kindly as she could; to be
truthful, yet tactful. Polly wrote, and re-wrote: the business cost her
the forenoon.

She could not even press Tilly to pack her box and come at once; for
her second letter that morning had been from Sara, who wrote that,
having decided to shake the dust of the colony off her feet, she wished
to pay them a flying visit before sailing, "POUR FAIRE MES ADIEUX." She
signed herself "Your affectionate sister Zara," and on her arrival
explained that, tired of continually instructing people in the
pronunciation of her name, she had decided to alter the spelling and be
done with it. Moreover, a little bird had whispered in her ear that,
under its new form, it fitted her rather "FRENCH" air and looks a
thousand times better than before.

Descending from the coach, Zara eyed Polly up and down and vowed she
would never have known her; and, on the way home, Polly more than once
felt her sister's gaze fixed critically on her. For her part, she was
able to assure Zara that she saw no change whatever in her, since her
last visit--even since the date of the wedding. And this pleased Zara
mightily; for as she admitted, in removing hat and mantle, and passi