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 "I expect not," said the kind lady, shaking her head with a dark look. "And Ruffin is a very appropriate name for him, living on the begging of young children."

Pollyooly could not believe her ears. When she did, the red hair came out. With a scarlet face and blazing eyes, she cried furiously: "It isn't true! He doesn't do any such thing! He wouldn't! He's just the kindest gentleman that ever was! Give me back those violets!"

The kind, but sallow lady turned yellower, and shrank back.

Pollyooly sprang upon her, tore the violets from her nerveless fingers, thrust the penny into them, and said: "There you are! Take it! And just don't you interfere with me again! You mind your own business!"

The kind, but sallow, lady turned, and frankly scuttled off. She was so greatly upset by the fury of Pollyooly's onslaught that she scuttled fully a hundred yards before she remembered that she had a weak heart. Then she took a cab, and went home to have some fits of palpitation and resolve never again to seek the good of ideal flower-sellers.