Presently the silence was broken by a distant howl. "Oooooo-_ver_!" "Eh?" she said. He nodded. "That's the ferry. And there isn't a ferryman." "Could I?" "Can you punt?" "Never tried." "Well--pull the pole out before you reach the end of the punt, that's all. Try." Mr. Polly went out again into the sunshine. At times one can tell so much so briefly. Here are the facts then--bare. He found a punt and a pole, got across to the steps on the opposite side, picked up an elderly gentleman in an alpaca jacket and a pith helmet, cruised with him vaguely for twenty minutes, conveyed him tortuously into the midst of a thicket of forget-me-not spangled sedges, splashed some water-weed over him, hit him twice with the punt pole, and finally landed him, alarmed but abusive, in treacherous soil at the edge of a hay meadow about forty yards down stream, where he immediately got into difficulties with a noisy, aggressive little white dog, which was guardian of a jacket. Mr. Polly returned in a complicated manner to his moorings. He found the plump woman rather flushed and tearful, and seated at one of the green tables outside. "I been laughing at you," she said. "What for?" asked Mr. Polly. "I ain't 'ad such a laugh since Jim come 'ome. When you 'it 'is 'ed, it 'urt my side." "It didn't hurt his head--not particularly." She waved her head. "Did you charge him anything?" "Gratis," said Mr. Polly. "I never thought of it." The plump woman pressed her hands to her sides and laughed silently for a space. "You ought to have charged him sumpthing," she said. "You better come and have your cold meat, before you do any more puntin'. You and me'll get on together." Presently she came and stood watching him eat. "You eat better than you punt," she said, and then, "I dessay you could learn to punt." "Wax to receive and marble to retain," said Mr. Polly. "This beef is a Bit of All Right, Ma'm. I could have done differently if I hadn't been punting on an empty stomach. There's a lear feeling as the pole goes in--" "I've never held with fasting," said the plump woman. "You want a ferryman?" "I want an odd man about the place." "I'm odd, all right. What's your wages?" "Not much, but you get tips and pickings. I've a sort of feeling it would suit you." "I've a sort of feeling it would. What's the duties? Fetch and carry? Ferry? Garden? Wash bottles? _Ceteris paribus?_" "That's about it," said the fat woman. "Give me a trial." "I've more than half a mind. Or I wouldn't have said anything about it. I suppose you're all right. You've got a sort of half-respectable look about you. I suppose you 'aven't _done_ anything." "Bit of Arson," said Mr. Polly, as if he jested. "So long as you haven't the habit," said the plump woman. "My first time, M'am," said Mr. Polly, munching his way through an excellent big leaf of lettuce. "And my last."