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, whither Mrs. Hutton had repaired in the course of her search. The clerks gloated over Pollyooly with respectful admiration induced in them by her rank, then, they went back to their work. Pollyooly sat down and waited for her maid.

In a few minutes Mrs. Hutton, a buxom, round-faced woman of fifty summers, arrived, purple, flustered and vociferous. She enlarged on her terrors and exertions, on the fact that they had missed their train, on her ignorance of what his grace would say when he heard of his daughter's escapade. Then she inquired what Pollyooly had been doing during the half-hour that she had been missing.

"Looking at London," said Pollyooly with cold curtness.

They had not long to wait for a train, and Pollyooly enjoyed the journey through the country exceedingly. She had not known how much she had been missing it during the two years she had lived in London. Once or twice, indeed, the prettier pieces of scenery were a little blurred by the tears which rose to her eyes. If only the Lump were with her.

Half-way to Ricksborough, Mrs. Hutton, who