epeat his orders. Mr. Gammon did so with perfect good humour. As
soon as his voice had ceased that of Miss Sparkes sounded from the
neighbouring bedroom.

"Is that the water?"

For the pleasure of the thing Moggie stood to listen, an angry grin on
her flushed face.

"Moggie!--I'll give that little beast what for! Are you there?"

The girl made a quick motion with both her hands as if clawing an
enemy's face, then coughed loudly, and went away with a sound of
stamping on the thinly-carpeted stairs. One minute later Miss Sparkes'
door opened and Miss Sparkes herself rushed forth--a startling vision
of wild auburn hair about a warm complexion, and a small, brisk figure
girded in a flowery dressing-gown. She called at the full pitch of her
voice for Mrs. Bubb.

"Do you hear me? Mrs. Bubb, have the kindness to send me up my hot
water immejately! This moment, if you please!"

There came an answer, but not from the landlady. It sounded so near to
Miss Sparkes that she sprang back into her room.

"Patience, Polly! All in good time, my dear. Wrong foot out of bed this
morning?"

Her door slammed, and there followed a lazy laugh from Mr. Gammon's
chamber.

In due time the can of hot water was brought up, and soon after it came
a tray for Mr. Gammon, on which, together with his breakfast, lay the
three newspapers he had bespoken. Polly Sparkes throughout her
leisurely toilet was moved to irritation and curiosity by the sound of
frequent laughter on the other side of the party wall--uproarious
peals, long chucklings in a falsetto key, staccato bursts of mirth.

"That is the comic stuff in 'Clippings,'" she said to herself with an
involuntary grin. "What a fool he is! And why's he staying in bed this
morning? Got his holiday, I suppose. I'd make better use of it than
that."

She came forth presently in such light and easy costume as befitted a
young lady of much leisure on a hot morning of June. Meaning to pass an
hour or two in quarrelling with Mrs. Bubb she had arrayed herself thus
early with more care than usual, that her colours and perfumes might
throw contempt upon the draggle-tailed landlady, whom, by the by, she
had known since her childhood. On the landing, where she paused for a
moment, she hummed an air, with the foreseen result that Mr. Gammon
called out to her.

"Polly!"

She vouchsafed no answer.

"Miss Sparkes!"

"Well?"

"Will you come with me to see my bow-wows this fine day?"

"No, Mr. Gamm