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 rogue of the name of Montague Fitzgerald who came to see me one morning?"

"Yes, sir. His hair shone like his hat, and he was very angry when he went away," said Pollyooly with a gentle smile of pleased remembrance.

"He does shine, the greasy usurer," said the Honorable John Ruffin with vindictive conviction. "But I made him rather too angry by refusing to pay his confounded loan twice over. He has bought up all my Oxford debts, and is going to writ me for the whole amount. You do not know what Oxford debts are, being, fortunately for yourself, of the sheltered, but overwhelming, female sex; and you don't know what writting is, since you are a happy English child. But both are very unpleasant things. I was paying those debts comfortably, or rather uncomfortably, by instalments. You know what instalments are, Pollyooly?"

"Burial-money," said Pollyooly, after a little thoughtful consideration.

"Instalments are the curse of the British Empire; and whole amounts are worse," said the Honorable John Ruffin in a tone of genuine feeling. "Well, I