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 "And I suppose this dear little boy with you is your brother?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Pollyooly.

Grizel picked him up and kissed him. She had to kiss some one, with those violets in her belt.

"I do wonder at you, Lady Grizel!" cried her scandalized maid in a tone of disgust. "Picking up a beggar's brat in the streets and kissing him!"

"He won't bite, Symons," said Grizel coldly. "And he's as clean as a new pin."

She set down the Lump, kissed Pollyooly, glancing defiantly at her maid as she did it, bade them good-by, and walked on. Her hand kept straying to the violets in her belt to assure her that they were still there. As she went into the park she turned and blew a kiss of gratitude to Pollyooly.

Pollyooly walked quickly on toward the barracks, so full of pleasure at the successful accomplishment of her task that she had quite forgotten the kind, but sallow, lady. Half-way to the barracks a very savage-looking old gentleman stopped short in front of them, bringing them up dead, and, scowling fiercely at Pollyooly, dragged a handful of money from his pocket and gave her sixpence.