the sub-heroine of the most
interesting local scandal.

The duke had not looked for anything of the kind; and he was on
tenterhooks; he had expected that as a child she would be left
peacefully in the background. He found her the central figure of the
gathering; and he was in the liveliest dread lest she should fail to
come through the ordeal with her secret safe.

It never for a moment occurred to Pollyooly that her secret was in any
danger. Naturally therefore she wore an air of perfect ease; and
answered the innumerable questions about her fondness for different
things, the country, dolls, flowers and so forth with serene
simplicity. He was somewhat surprised by her air (it was not
accentuated, or even obvious) of faintly haughty aloofness. He had a
feeling that it was exactly the right air for a daughter of a duke. He
wondered how it had come to her, whether the Honourable John Ruffin was
right in his red Deeping theory. He did not know his experienced
cousin had often laid before Pollyooly the advantage of giving herself
airs, and she had not been slow to see it. He grew easier in mind.

Lady Ilkeston was the person really pleased. She had not expected to
have any really interesting central figure at her afternoon; and she
was all the more grateful at getting one. Her gratitude took the
practical form of instructing Sir Miles Walpole, an amiable young man
of twenty-four, very fond of children, to take Pollyooly to the long
table under the cedars, and give her a very nice tea indeed. The ices
and the cakes, which surpassed her hopes and expectation, to no small
degree compensated Pollyooly for the loss of that untrammelled ramble
through the home wood. Also she enjoyed the society of Sir Miles
Walpole; she was at once thoroughly at home with him.

Soon after tea the duke took her away. When the car had started, he
said triumphantly:

"Well, we came through that all right. Not a soul spotted that you
weren't Marion."

"But how could they?" said Pollyooly in a tone of lively surprise.

"Oh, I was a bit afraid at first," said the duke.

"I wasn't," said Pollyooly simply.

He took off his hat, let the rushing air cool his brow, and smiled
broadly at the horizon. It seemed to him that if Pollyooly were the
central figure in yet another gathering, or two, the duchess would not
be long in hearing that he had with uncommon success replaced his lost
daughter.

CHAPTER XX

POLLYOOLY AND THE