ter accent. Her features suggested a more delicate physical
inheritance than Mrs. Clover's comeliness could account for. As a
matter of fact she had her father's best traits, though Mrs. Glover
frequently thanked goodness that in character she by no means resembled
him.

Mr. Gammon was in the midst of a vivid description of a rat hunt, in
which a young terrier had displayed astonishing mettle, when his
hostess abruptly interposed.

"Minnie, I wish you'd put your hat on and run round to Mrs. Walker's
for me. I'll give you a message when you're ready."

Very willingly the girl rose and left the room. Mr. Gammon, whose
countenance had fallen, turned to the mother with jocose remonstrance.

"Now I call that too bad. What did you want to go sending her away for?"

"What does it matter?" was Mrs. Clover's reply, uttered
good-humouredly, but with some impatience. "The child doesn't want to
hear about rats and terriers."

"Child? I don't call her a child. Besides, you'd only to give me a hint
to talk of something else." He leaned forward, and softened his voice
to a note of earnest entreaty. "She won't be long, will she?"

"Oh, I dare say not!"

A light tap at the door called Mrs. Clover away. She whispered outside
with Minnie and returned smiling.

"Have you told her to be quick?"

Mrs. Clover did not answer the question. Sitting with her arms on the
round table she looked Mr. Gammon steadily in the face, and said with
decision:

"Never you come here again after you've been to Dulwich!"

"Why not?"

"Never mind. I don't want to have to speak plainer. If ever I have to--"

Mrs. Clover made her great effect of the pregnant pause. The listener,
who had sobered wonderfully, sat gazing at her, his blue eyes comically
rueful.

"She isn't coming back at all?" fell from his lips.

"Of course she isn't."

"Well, I'm blest if I thought you could be so unkind, Mrs. Clover."

She was silent for three ticks of the clock, an odd hardness having
come over her face, then, flushing just a little, as if after an
effort, she smiled again, and spoke in her ordinary tone.

"What had you to say about Polly?"

"Polly?--Polly be hanged! I half believe Polly's no better than she
should be."

The flush on Mrs. Clover's face deepened and she spoke severely.

"What do you mean by saying such things?"

"I didn't meant to," exclaimed Gammon, with hasty penitence. "Look
here, I really didn't; but you put me out. She had some pr