“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 presents given her, that’s all.”

" I know it,” said Mrs. Clover.  “She’s been here to-day—­called this afternoon.”

“Polly did?”

“Yes, and behaved very badly too.  I don’t know what’s coming to the girl.  If I had a temper like that I’d—­”

What Mrs. Clover would do remained conjectural.

“It’s a good thing,” remarked the other, laughing.  “Trust Polly to take care of herself.  She cheeked you, did she?”

They discussed Miss Sparkes very thoroughly.  There had been a battle royal in the afternoon, for the girl came only to “show off” and make herself generally offensive.  Mrs. Clover desired to be friendly with her sister’s daughter, but would stand no “cheek,” and had said so.

“Polly’s all right,” remarked Mr. Gammon finally.  “Don’t you fret about her.  She ain’t that kind.  I know ’em.”

“Then why did you say just now—­”

“Because you riled me, sending Minnie away.”

Again Mrs. Clover reflected, and again she looked her friend steadily in the face.

“Why did you want her to stay?”

Mr. Gammon’s heated visage glowed with incredible fervour.  He shrugged his shoulders, shuffled his feet, and at length burst out with: 

“Well, I should think you know.  It isn’t the first time I’ve showed it, I should think.”

“Then I’m very sorry.  I’m real sorry.”

The words fell gently, and one might have thought that Mrs. Clover was softening the rejection of a tender proposal made to herself.