But these were the mere background to the really pleasant thing in the spectacle, which was quite the plumpest woman Mr. Polly had ever seen, seated in an armchair in the midst of all these bottles and glasses and glittering things, peacefully and tranquilly, and without the slightest loss of dignity, asleep. Many people would have called her a fat woman, but Mr. Polly's innate sense of epithet told him from the outset that plump was the word. She had shapely brows and a straight, well-shaped nose, kind lines and contentment about her mouth, and beneath it the jolly chins clustered like chubby little cherubim about the feet of an Assumptioning-Madonna. Her plumpness was firm and pink and wholesome, and her hands, dimpled at every joint, were clasped in front of her; she seemed as it were to embrace herself with infinite confidence and kindliness as one who knew herself good in substance, good in essence, and would show her gratitude to God by that ready acceptance of all that he had given her. Her head was a little on one side, not much, but just enough to speak of trustfulness, and rob her of the stiff effect of self-reliance. And she slept. "_My_ sort," said Mr. Polly, and opened the door very softly, divided between the desire to enter and come nearer and an instinctive indisposition to break slumbers so manifestly sweet and satisfying. She awoke with a start, and it amazed Mr. Polly to see swift terror flash into her eyes. Instantly it had gone again. "Law!" she said, her face softening with relief, "I thought you were Jim." "I'm never Jim," said Mr. Polly. "You've got his sort of hat." "Ah!" said Mr. Polly, and leant over the bar. "It just came into my head you was Jim," said the plump lady, dismissed the topic and stood up. "I believe I was having forty winks," she said, "if all the truth was told. What can I do for you?" "Cold meat?" said Mr. Polly. "There _is_ cold meat," the plump woman admitted. "And room for it." The plump woman came and leant over the bar and regarded him judicially, but kindly. "There's some cold boiled beef," she said, and added: "A bit of crisp lettuce?" "New mustard," said Mr. Polly. "And a tankard!" "A tankard." They understood each other perfectly. "Looking for work?" asked the plump woman. "In a way," said Mr. Polly. They smiled like old friends. Whatever the truth may be about love, there is certainly such a thing as friendship at first sight. They liked each other's voices, they liked each other's way of smiling and speaking. "It's such beautiful weather this spring," said Mr. Polly, explaining everything. "What sort of work do you want?" she asked. "I've never properly thought that out," said Mr. Polly. "I've been looking round--for Ideas." "Will you have your beef in the tap or outside? That's the tap." Mr. Polly had a glimpse of an oaken settle. "In the tap will be handier for you," he said. "Hear that?" said the plump lady. "Hear what?" "Listen."