came a tray for Mr. Gammon, on which, together with his breakfast,
lay the three newspapers he had bespoken. Polly Sparkes throughout
her leisurely toilet was moved to irritation and curiosity by the
sound of frequent laughter on the other side of the party wall--
uproarious peals, long chucklings in a falsetto key, staccato bursts
of mirth.

"That is the comic stuff in 'Clippings,'" she said to herself with
an involuntary grin. "What a fool he is! And why's he staying in bed
this morning? Got his holiday, I suppose. I'd make better use of it
than that."

She came forth presently in such light and easy costume as befitted
a young lady of much leisure on a hot morning of June. Meaning to
pass an hour or two in quarrelling with Mrs. Bubb she had arrayed
herself thus early with more care than usual, that her colours and
perfumes might throw contempt upon the draggle-tailed landlady,
whom, by the by, she had known since her childhood. On the landing,
where she paused for a moment, she hummed an air, with the foreseen
result that Mr. Gammon called out to her.

"Polly!"

She vouchsafed no answer.

"Miss Sparkes!"

"Well?"

"Will you come with me to see my bow-wows this fine day?"