Ten days passed pleasantly at his studio; and both Pollyooly and the Lump were the better for the change. Three times she went to the King's Bench Walk and cleaned the rooms against the Honourable John Ruffin's return; four times she went to the dancing class in Soho, where she was training for a career on the stage. On the evening of the tenth day came a letter to say that he would be back at noon on the morrow. After breakfast, therefore, Hilary Vance despatched the two children back to the King's Bench Walk in a taxicab, the Lump hugging a large box of chocolate creams, Pollyooly, in no less joy, clasping firmly her shabby little purse which contained, beyond the silver she carried to meet any natural expense, a golden sovereign, the artist's parting gift. Her sky was now serene; but she was still mindful of the days when the jaws of the workhouse had yawned for her and the Lump, and she lost no chance of adding to her hoard in the Post Office Savings Bank. Immediately on her arrival at the Temple she went to the post office and added the sovereign to it. The Honourable John Ruffin arrived from Buda-Pesth, looking the browner for the change, and in very good spirits. He brought the friendliest messages and Hungarian gifts to Pollyooly and the Lump from the Esmeralda, and was able to assure them that she was in excellent health, and enjoying a genuine triumph. When he had delivered the Esmeralda's gifts and assured Pollyooly of her prosperity, there came a short silence; then Pollyooly said: "And the Moldo-Wallachian, sir?" The fine grey eyes of the Honourable John Ruffin twinkled, as he said gravely: "The Moldo-Wallachian has returned to Moldo-Wallachia. When the ideal was once more clearly presented to the Esmeralda, the attractions of the Moldo-Wallachian faded as flowers fade in a drought." "I'm glad she isn't going to marry a foreigner," said Pollyooly with true patriotism. "She would never be happy in Moldo-Wallachia," said the Honourable John Ruffin with conviction. "Oh, no, sir," said Pollyooly. There was a pause; then he said: "And how did you leave Mr. Vance?" "Oh, he was all right, sir," said Pollyooly. "Oh, he was, was he? Did you by any chance come across a young lady of the name of Flossie while you were staying at Chelsea?" "Yes, sir. But he doesn't have anything to do with her now, sir. He goes past the shop with an air of cold dignity--he says he does; and he's going to Scotland to wear a kilt to get quite cured--he says he is," said Pollyooly quickly. "It sounds most efficacious," said the Honourable John Ruffin. "But how did it all happen?" Pollyooly told the story of the intervention of Mr. Butterwick; and the Honourable John Ruffin chuckled freely, for no reason that she could see, as he listened to it. At the end of it he said sententiously: "Well, all's well that ends well. These foreign countries are not suited to English girls: Miss Flossie would never be happy in Bohemia."