Happy Pollyooly | Page 9

this afternoon," said Pollyooly.
"And what the deuce for? What's it got to do with him?" cried Hilary
Vance.
"She said he was her fiongsay," said Pollyooly, faithfully reproducing
Flossie's pronunciation.
"Her fiancé?" roared Hilary Vance in accents of the liveliest surprise,
dismay, and horror. "Oh, woman! Woman! The faithlessness! The
treachery!"
With a vast, magnificent expression of despair he dropped heavily on to
the nearest chair without pausing to select a strong one. Under the
stress of his emotion and his weight the chair crumpled up; and he sat
down on the floor with a violence which shook the house. He sprang up,
smothered, out of regard for the age and sex of Pollyooly, some
language suggested by the occurrence, and with a terrific kick sent the
fragments of the chair flying across the studio. Then he howled, and
holding his right toes in his left hand, hopped on his left leg. He had
forgotten that he was wearing thin, but patent-leather, shoes.
Then he put his feet gingerly upon the floor, ground his teeth, and
roared:
"Knock the stuffing out of me, will he? I'll tear him limb from limb!
The insidious villain! I'll teach him to come between me and the
woman I love!"
Sad to relate Pollyooly's heart, inured to violence by her battles with
the young male inhabitants of the slum behind the Temple, where she
had lodged before becoming the housekeeper of the Honourable John
Ruffin, leapt joyfully at the thought of the fray, in spite of her
friendship with Hilary Vance; and her quick mind grasped the fact that
she might watch it in security from the door of her bedroom. Then her
duty to her host came uppermost.

"But please, Mr. Vance: he's a boxer. He boxes at the Chiswick
Polytechnic," she cried anxiously.
"Let him box! I'll tear him limb from limb!" roared Hilary Vance
ferociously; and he strode up and down the studio, limping that he
might not press heavily on his aching toes.
Pollyooly gazed at him doubtfully. Flossie's account of Mr.
Butterwick's prowess had impressed her too deeply to permit her to
believe that anything but painful ignominious defeat awaited Hilary
Vance at his hands.
"But he blacks people's eyes and makes their noses bleed," protested
Pollyooly.
"I'll tear him limb from limb!" roared Hilary Vance, still ferociously,
but with less conviction in his tone.
"And he doesn't care how big anybody is, if they don't know how to
box," Pollyooly insisted.
"No more do I!" roared Hilary Vance.
He stamped up and down the studio yet more vigorously since his
aching toes were growing easier. Then he sank into a chair--a stronger
chair--gingerly; and in a more moderate tone said:
"I'll have the scoundrel's blood. I'll teach him to cross my path."
He paused, considering the matter more coldly, and Pollyooly
anxiously watched his working face. Little by little it grew calmer.
"After all it may not be the scoundrel's fault," he said in a tone of some
magnanimity. "I know what women are--treachery for treachery's sake.
Why should I destroy the poor wretch whose heart has probably been
as scored as mine by the discovery of her treachery? He is a fellow
victim."
"And perhaps you mightn't destroy him--if he's such a good boxer,"

said Pollyooly anxiously.
"I should certainly destroy him," said Hilary Vance with a dignified
certainty. "But to what purpose? Would it give me back my unstained
ideal? No. The ideal once tarnished never shines as bright again."
His face was now calm--calm and growing sorrowful. Then a sudden
apprehension appeared on it:
"Besides--suppose I broke a finger--a finger of my right hand. Why
should I give this blackguard a chance of maiming me?" he cried, and
looked at Pollyooly earnestly.
"I don't know, Mr. Vance," said Pollyooly, answering the question in
his urgent eyes.
"If I did break a finger, it might be weeks--months before I could work
again. Why, I might never be able to work again!" he cried.
"That's just what Mr. James was afraid of," said Pollyooly.
"Mr. James! Has he been here?" cried Hilary Vance; and there was far
more uneasiness than pleasure in his tone on thus hearing of his friend's
return.
"Yes. He came to know if you were engaged yet," said Pollyooly.
"Oh, did he?" said Hilary Vance very glumly.
"Yes. And I told him you weren't."
"That's right," he said in a tone of relief.
"And he said we must stop the affray."
"He was right. It would be criminal," said Hilary Vance solemnly.
"After all it isn't myself: I have to consider posterit--"
A sudden, very loud knocking on the front door cut short the word.

"That's him!" said Pollyooly in a hushed voice.
Hilary Vance rose, folded his two big arms, and faced the door