Hats were doffed and hands were shaken.
"Why, is that you, Mr. Gammon?" cried Carrie Waghorn when the
ceremony was over, as if only just aware of his presence. "Well,
this is a surprise, isn't it, Polly?"
Miss Sparkes seemed barely to recognize Mr. Gammon, but of necessity
she took a place by his side, and walked on with a rhythmic tossing
of the head, which had a new adornment--a cluster of great blue
flowers, unknown to the botanist, in the place of her everyday
poppies.
"If you don't want me," remarked Gammon, glancing at her, "you've
only to say so, and I'm off."
Polly looked up at the sky, and answered with a question.
"Do you think it's going to rine?"
"Shouldn't wonder."
"Well, you are polite."
"What's the rine got to do with politeness? I say, why didn't you
answer my letter?"
"I pay no attention to impertinence," replied Miss Sparkes
haughtily.
"Oh, that's it? Never mind; we shall get on better presently. I say,
Polly, do you see you've left marks on my face?"
Polly set her lips and kept a severe silence.
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