The next moment Polly was on his knee, her face hidden in his
shoulder. There she shed a few tears. "Oh, isn't she dreadful? I don't
know WHAT I shall do with her. She's been serving behind the bar,
Richard, for more than a year. And she's come expecting to be taken
everywhere and to have any amount of gaiety."
At coach-time she had dragged a reluctant Purdy to the office. But as
soon as he caught sight of Tilly: "On the box, Richard, beside the
driver, with her hair all towsy-wowsy in the wind--he just said: 'Oh,
lor, Polly!' and disappeared, and that was the last I saw of him. I
don't know how I should have got on if it hadn't been for old Mr. Ocock,
who was down meeting a parcel. He was most kind; he helped us home with
her carpet-bag, and saw after her trunk. And, oh dear, what do you
think? When he was going away he said to me in the passage--so loud I'm
sure Tilly must have heard him--he said: 'Well! that's something like a
figure of a female this time, Mrs. Doc. As fine a young woman as ever I
see!'"
And Polly hid her face again; and husband and wife laughed in concert.
Chapter VIII
That night a great storm rose. Mahony, sitting reading after everyone
else had retired, saw it coming, and lamp in hand went round the house
to secure hasps and catches; then stood at the window to watch the
storm's approach. In one half of the sky the stars were still peacefully
alight; the other was hidden by a dense cloud, which came racing along
like a giant bat with outspread wings, devouring the stars in its
flight.
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