Happy Pollyooly The Rich Little Poor Girl   By: Edgar Jepson (1863-1938)

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.