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 wandered to a point above Pollyooly's head; she looked startled, glanced at her sour-faced mother, looked back, and again smiled.

Then a voice above Pollyooly's head said quietly: "Little girl, do you think you could do something for me?"

Pollyooly, startled in her turn, looked up to find a very fine-looking gentleman, as finely dressed as the Honorable John Ruffin himself, looking down at her, and hidden by the trunk of the tree from the sour-faced dowager.

Pollyooly liked his face. It was an honest face, good-natured, and very like that of the Apollo Belvedere. She did not think, indeed, that it could compare with the face of the Honorable John Ruffin, who, to her eyes, was the very type of manly beauty; and since her ideal was the clean-shaven, she did not approve of the close-cropped mustache. But she found it a nice face, the face of one to be trusted.

"If I can, sir," she said amiably.

"Well, do you think that you could give that young lady in blue, sitting just over there, a note without any one seeing you?" said the gentleman.