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 "No; it took me to find it out," said Ronald with pardonable self-satisfaction.

"And the windmill," said Pollyooly.

"Oh, I should have found it out without the windmill," said Ronald confidently.

"Perhaps you would," said Pollyooly politely.

"Really, I knew it all the time—only it was so extraordinary," said Ronald.

He lay still gazing at her for a while; then he said reflectively: "Well, I'm glad that kid has got away to her mother. She was rather a rotter, and I never cared much for her, though I believe I'm going to marry her when we grow up. She had a poor time here."

"Fancy having a poor time in a beautiful place like this! She must have been silly!" cried Pollyooly in amazement.

"I said she was rather a rotter. But what am I to call you? I'm not going to call you Marion. She's rather set me against the name."

Pollyooly considered a while. It seemed safe to impart her Christian name, and she told him that it was Mary, adjuring him not to call her by it before any one.