Happy Pollyooly, by Edgar
Jepson, Illustrated
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Illustrated by Reginald Birch
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Title: Happy Pollyooly The Rich Little Poor Girl
Author: Edgar Jepson
Release Date: September 17, 2006 [eBook #19310]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY
POLLYOOLY***
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HAPPY POLLYOOLY
The Rich Little Poor Girl
by
EDGAR JEPSON
Author of Pollyooly, Whitaker's Dukedom, Etc.
With Illustrations by Reginald Birch
[Frontispiece: She bit the end of her pencil]
Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers Copyright 1915
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I
THE HONOURABLE JOHN RUFFIN MAKES AN
ARRANGEMENT II HILARY VANCE FINDS A CONFIDANTE III
THE INFURIATED SWAINS IV THE DUCHESS HAS AN IDEA V
POLLYOOLY IS CALLED IN VI POLLYOOLY PLAYS HER
FAVOURITE
PART VII POLLYOOLY PLAYS THE
GOOD SAMARITAN
VIII THE QUESTION OF A HOME IX THE RELUCTANT DUKE X
POLLYOOLY AND THE LUMP GO TO THE SEASIDE XI
POLLYOOLY MEETS THE UNPLEASANT PRINCE XII WHAT
THE PRINCE ASKED FOR XIII THE RAPPROCHEMENT XIV
THE TRAINING OF ROYALTY XV THE ATTITUDE OF THE
GRAND DUKE XVI POLLYOOLY ENTERTAINS ROYALTY XVII
THE DUKE HAS AN IDEA XVIII THE DUKE'S IDEA TAKES
FORM XIX POLLYOOLY IS INTRODUCED TO THE COUNTY
XX POLLYOOLY AND THE DUKE XXI LORD RONALD
RICKSBOROUGH COMES TO THE COURT XXII THE DUKE
WINS
ILLUSTRATIONS
She bit the end of the pencil . . . Frontispiece
She tiptoed about with hunched shoulders
They slept on the bench
The Duke gazed at her in dismal discomfort
"You keep away"
They turned to see the Duchess
HAPPY POLLYOOLY
CHAPTER I
THE HONOURABLE JOHN RUFFIN MAKES AN
ARRANGEMENT
The angel child looked at the letter from Buda-Pesth with lively interest,
for she knew that it came from her friend and patroness Esmeralda, the
dancer, who was engaged in a triumphant tour of the continent of
Europe. She put it on the top of the pile of letters, mostly bills, which
had come for her employer, the Honourable John Ruffin, set the pile
beside his plate, and returned to the preparation of his breakfast.
She looked full young to hold the post of house-keeper to a barrister of
the Inner Temple, for she was not yet thirteen; but there was an
uncommonly capable intentness in her deep blue eyes as she watched
the bacon, sizzling on the grill, for the right moment to turn the rashers.
She never missed it. Now and again those deep blue eyes sparkled at
the thought that the Honourable John Ruffin would presently give her
news of her brilliant friend.
She heard him come out of his bedroom, and at once dished up his
bacon, and carried it into his sitting-room. She found him already
reading the letter, and saw that it was giving him no pleasure. His lips
were set in a thin line; there was a frown on his brow and an angry
gleam in his grey eyes. She knew that of all the emotions which moved
him, anger was the rarest; indeed she could only remember having once
seen him angry: on the occasion on which he had smitten Mr.
Montague Fitzgerald on the head when that shining moneylender was
trying to force from her the key of his chambers; and she wondered
what had been happening to the Esmeralda to annoy him. She was too
loyal to suppose that anything that the Esmeralda had herself done
could be annoying him.
He ate his breakfast more slowly than usual, and with a brooding air.
His eyes never once, as was their custom, rested with warm
appreciation on Pollyooly's beautiful face, set in its aureole of red hair;
he did not enliven his meal by talking to her about the affairs of the
moment. She respected his musing, and waited on him in silence. She
had cleared away the breakfast tray and was folding the table-cloth
when, at last, he broke his thoughtful silence.
"There's nothing for it: I must go to Buda-Pesth," he said with a
resolute air.
"There's nothing the matter with the Esmeralda, sir?" said Pollyooly
with quick anxiety.
"There's something very much the matter with the Esmeralda--a
Moldo-Wallachian," said the Honourable John Ruffin with stern
coldness.
"Is it an illness, sir?" said Pollyooly yet more anxiously.
"No; it's a nobleman," said the Honourable John Ruffin with even
colder sternness.
Pollyooly
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