"It's a pity I couldn't stay on and on with you here," she said very plaintively. "I'm sure I shall never be so happy anywhere else." "Oh, yes: you will," said Pollyooly firmly. "You'll find the home ever so nice." Millicent shook her head doubtfully and said: "And I shan't see anything of you and the Lump any more." "Oh, yes: you will. You let us know when visiting day is--there's sure to be a visiting day to a home; and we'll come and see you." Millicent's face grew a little brighter. The Honourable John Ruffin congratulated Pollyooly warmly on her success; then he said: "I trust you were not driven to use the weapon I suggested. Osterley's cantankerousness didn't go so far as that?" "Oh, well, sir," said Pollyooly, hesitating a little--"I--I did have to pretend to cry." The Honourable John Ruffin laughed gently. "Poor Osterley!" he said. The duke's letter plainly stirred the Bellingham Home to instant activity, for a letter came for Pollyooly by the first post to say that an official of the home would come for Millicent that very afternoon. During the morning Millicent wept several times at the thought of leaving the Lump; and her final farewell was tearful indeed. But Pollyooly believed that her sadness would not last long: they had decided that the empire-builder would have fair hair and a large and flowing moustache. After Millicent's departure their life settled down into its usual even tenour. Pollyooly missed her; and doubtless the Lump also missed his devoted and obedient slave, though he was of too placid a nature to raise an outcry about his loss. She wrote to Pollyooly on the day after her arrival at the home; and the letter made it clear that her first impressions of it were pleasing. It was on the fifth morning after her going that the Honourable John Ruffin made the great announcement. It was his habit to chant in his bath what Pollyooly believed to be poetry; and it is improbable that an observant child of twelve, who had passed the seven standards at Muttle Deeping school, could have been mistaken in a matter of that kind. At any rate his chanting was rhythmical. The habit may have borne witness to the goodness of his conscience, or it may not (it may merely have been a by-product of an excellent digestion), but that morning it seemed to her that he chanted more loudly and with a finer gusto than usual. She was not greatly surprised therefore, when she brought in his carefully grilled bacon, at his saying in a very cheerful tone: "I have had a windfall, Mrs. Bride--a windfall of thirty-five pounds. It fell out of an auction-bridge tree--a game you do not understand--and it has made the heat-wave, which ought to be called the heat-flood, more unbearable than ever. Therefore I have resolved to go away for a while to the sea." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly in a tone of amiable congratulation.