Part 18 (2/2)

At once her mood had changed. She was Polly, and here was Uncle Dan, to be cajoled and entreated and vanquished.

”Oh, Uncle Dan!” she cried, ”I thought you never were coming! I want to talk to you.”

”Why, Polly!” he exclaimed, ”what are you up to? You look like a fright in that thing!”

”Which means, you never would have known me,” Polly declared mischievously. ”That's just what I wanted. Now come in like a dear and let me talk to you. No, sit in this chair,--it's much more comfortable.

Have you had your cigar?”

”Of course I have. It's nearly an hour since luncheon.”

”Don't you want another?”

”Polly! What are you driving at?”

”I only wanted to make you perfectly comfortable, so that you would enjoy having a little chat with me.”

She had seated herself in a low chair opposite him, where she could look straight into his eyes. She pulled off the black lace and proceeded to fold it with great care and precision. There was a look in her face, calculated to make the old soldier call out all his reserves.

”Well, out with it, Polly!” he cried.

”It's about that poor singer, Uncle Dan; the woman we took home last night. You remember?”

”Remember? I'm not losing my faculties, Polly!”

”Yes; of course you remember! What was I thinking of? Well, you know we went to see her this morning, and took her those roses of Mr. Kenwick's.

Uncle Dan,--they didn't seem to meet the case!” and May looked at her victim with the gravity of a secretary of the metropolitan board of charities.

”That was rather hard on those particular roses,” Uncle Dan observed, with a certain grim satisfaction.

”Yes, I think it was. But,--Uncle Dan, I've thought of something much better than roses. I'm going to sing for her!”

”Will that meet the case?” asked the Colonel, doubtfully. He too had been wondering what could be done for the niece by marriage of Vittorio's grandmother's--what did he say she was?

”Yes; for you see I shall be a novelty, and I sing better than she does, and we shall take a lot of money.”

”A lot of money, for singing to that woman? Polly, what are you talking about?”

And then it was that Polly took the field, and marshalled all her arguments, and did such valiant battle to the Colonel's dearest prejudices and most cherished theories, that he was fairly bewildered and demoralised.

She knew she could do it, she knew she could sing, and singing always sounded lovely on the water. She was in splendid voice,--she had been practising _pianissimo_, and it went like a charm. Not a soul would know her. She was going to wear a plain black skirt and a sulphur shawl,--she had always meant to buy a sulphur shawl,--and a lot of beads round her neck. She was going to twist some black stuff about her hair, and then pin the Spanish lace on in the most artistic and Italian manner.

”And you know, Uncle Dan, my hair is the most noticeable thing about me.

When that's covered up I am quite another person. And then the light will be very dim, and so many queer colours from the swinging lanterns that I shan't have the vestige of a complexion left!”

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