"I has gone and done it, Miss Polly," she exclaimed. "I was distraught-like, and my poor little bit of a brain seemed to give way all of a sudden. Mother's in a heap of trouble, Miss Polly. I went round to see her, for it was quite a short cut to Watson's, round by mother's, and mother she were in an awful fixing. She hadn't nothing for the rent, Miss Polly, 'cause the fruit was blighted this year; and the landlord wouldn't give her no more grace, 'cause his head is big and his heart is small, same as 'tis other way with me, Miss Polly, and the bailiffs was going to seize mother's little bits of furniture, and mother she was most wild. So my head it seemed to go, Miss Polly, and I clutched hold of the half-sovereign in the butcher's pocket, and the half-sovereign in the grocer's pocket, and I said to mother, 'Miss Polly'll give 'em to you, 'cause it's a big heart as Miss Polly has got. They was meant for the family dinner, but what's dinner compared to your feelings.' So mother she borrowed of the money, Miss Polly, and I hasn't brought home nothink; I hasn't, truly, miss." Maggie's narrative was interspersed with very loud sobs, and fierce catches of her breath, and her small eyes were almost sunken out of sight. "Oh, I know you're mad with me," she said, in conclusion. "But what's dinner compared with mother's feelings. Oh, Miss Polly, don't look at me like that!" "Get up," said Polly, severely. "You are just like the people before the Flood; I understand about them at last. I cannot speak to you now, for we have not a moment to lose. Can you make the oven hot? There are only potatoes for dinner, unless the apple tart can be got ready in time." "Oh, lor'! Miss Polly, I'll soon set that going--why, you has the wrong flue out, Miss. See now, the heat's going round it lovely. Oh, what an elegant pie you has turned out, Miss Polly! Why, it's quite wonderful! You has a gift in the cookery line, Miss. Oh, darling Miss Polly, don't you be a-naming of me after them Flooders; it's awful to think I'm like one of they. It's all on account of mother, Miss Polly. It would have gone to your heart, Miss Polly, if you seen mother a-looking at the eight-day clock and thinking of parting from it. Her tears made channels on her cheeks, Miss Polly, and it was 'eart-piercing to view her. Oh, do take back them words, Miss Polly. Don't say as I'm a Flooder." Polly certainly had a soft heart, and although nothing could have mortified her more than the present state of affairs, she made up her mind to screen Maggie, and to be as little severe to her as she could. CHAPTER XII. POTATOES--MINUS POINT. Dr. Maybright had reason again to congratulate himself when he sat down to a humble dinner of boiled potatoes. "If this regimen continues for a week," he said, under his breath, "we must really resort to tonics. I perceive I did Polly a gross injustice. She does not mean to make us ill with rich living."