Happy Pollyooly | Page 7

let slip by accident about his

taking me to the Chelsea Empire. He's so quick at taking you
up--Reginald is; and before you know where you are, there he
is--making a fuss. And what's going to happen I don't know."
Her effort to look properly distressed failed.
Pollyooly was somewhat taken aback by the flood of information
suddenly gushed upon her; but she said calmly:
"But what's he going to do?"
"He's going to knock the stuffing out of Mr. Vance--he said he would.
And he'll do it, too--I know he will. He's done it before. There was a
gentleman friend of mine who lives in the same street as me in
Hammersmith; and he got to know about him--not that there was
anything to know, mind you--but he thought there was. And he blacked
his eyes and made his nose bleed. You see, Reginald's a splendid boxer;
he boxes at the Chiswick Polytechnic. And if he goes for Mr. Vance
he'll half kill him--I know he will. Reginald's simply a terror when his
blood's up."
"But Mr. Vance is very big," said Pollyooly in a doubting tone.
"But that makes no difference; bigness is nothing to a good boxer," said
Flossie with an air of superior knowledge. "Mr. Butterwick says he
doesn't mind taking on the biggest man in England, if he's not a boxer.
And he knows that Mr. Vance isn't a boxer, because I asked him about
boxing--knowing Reginald put it into my head--and he told me he
didn't know a thing about it. And he'd have no chance at all against
Reginald. And I let it out when I was telling Reginald that Mr. Vance
was a friend of mine--only just a friend of mine--and he mustn't hurt
him, and there was nothing to make a fuss about."
"I don't see why you wanted to tell him about Mr. Vance at all for, if
you knew he'd make a fuss," said Pollyooly in a tone of disapproval.
"I told you it slipped out when I wasn't thinking," said Flossie, in a tone
which carried no conviction; and she bent hastily to the note and added

a couple of lines.
Then she broke out again in the same high-pitched, excited tone:
"And I came round here as soon as I could get away, because there
wasn't any time to be lost. Reginald says he doesn't believe in losing
time in anything. And he's going to take an afternoon off and come
round and knock the stuffing out of Mr. Vance this very day. He can
always get an afternoon off, for he's with Messrs. Mercer & Topping,
and the firm has the greatest confidence in him; he says they have."
She finished the note and folded it, saying with the air which Pollyooly
found hypocritical:
"It's really dreadful when gentlemen will quarrel about one so. But
what am I to do? There's no way of stopping them. You'll know what it
is when you get to my age--at least you would if you hadn't got red
hair."
With this almost brilliantly tactful remark, she rose, gave Pollyooly the
note, and adjured her to give it to Mr. Hilary Vance the moment he
came in.
"What time will Mr. Butterwick get here?" said Pollyooly anxiously.
"There's no saying," said Flossie cheerfully. "But he'll get here as soon
as the firm can spare him. He never loses time--Reginald doesn't."
Again she adjured Pollyooly to give Hilary Vance the note as soon as
he returned, and hurried down the street to the florist's shop.
CHAPTER III
THE INFURIATED SWAINS
Flossie's news filled Pollyooly with a considerable anxiety; but she was
at a loss what to do. She knew that Hilary Vance was at the Savage
Club, but she did not know whether she could reach it in time to find

him there, for it was now a quarter of two. It did not seem to her a
matter to be trusted to the electric telegraph; and living as she did in the
old-time Temple, it never occurred to her to telephone.
There was nothing to do but await his return and give him Flossie's
note of warning the moment he entered. She had been going to take the
Lump for a walk on the embankment; she must postpone it. Then,
unused to idleness, she cast about how she might fill up her time till his
return.
She had swept and dusted the room that morning, after the departure of
Mrs. Thomas, who had busied herself in them, for a short time, and
ineffectually, with a dustpan, a brush, and a duster, so that there was no
cleaning to be done. Presently it occurred to her that perhaps there
might be some holes in the linen of her host which would be the better