"For the tiny crippled children; see the lovely dears," said Mrs Harris to Mrs Smith of Clapham. "What's your name, little love, now?" "Pollie Laverdean," a small mite of eight raised dark liquid eyes. "Buy somefin', p'ease." "Lady Marrianne," whispered a better-informed friend. "The Countess of Gardenia's eldest--ain't she sweet?" "An' to call her plain Pollie. My! my!" murmured the friend. Mrs Smith and Mrs Harris bought two small china dogs at five shillings each, and a box of shilling chocolates at the same price. The Duchess's baskets went as snow before the sun. Lady Lila Blyth and her lovely daughters sold flowers freely. The names of the assistants were written plainly over each stall--another idea of Dollie's. Lady Lila Blyth, Miss Eva Blyth, Miss Lulu Blyth; Lady Eliza O'Neill; Mrs Holmes; the Marquess of Tweesdale; Lord Rupert Scot; the Earl of Domomere. Brilliantly handsome in her blue gown, Esmé sold chocolate and dragées and crystallized fruits. Canon Bright had worked hard to help; got flowers and fruit sent in great quantities. He and the little secretary came now through the stalls. "It's splendid," he said to Dollie; "the stores near us sent a box of stuff to your stall." "Oh, yes, thanks awfully! Is it there, Esmé? We haven't opened it yet. When these shop things are sold we will." "But," the Canon picked up a huge guinea box of fruits, stickily alluring, "you've had to buy all these, haven't you?" "Yes, and you see it wouldn't be fair if we didn't sell quite a lot of these things as we get them at a reduction. But we'll open the box; the children can sell the things." Going on to Lady Lila's stall, a mass of carnations and roses and sweet peas, the secretary asked for the gifts of flowers. The Canon had begged from half his county. The same vague look. "Oh, all these hampers and boxes. You see, these were in and the florist's people arrange and settle them for us. We'd have to bunch all these others, wouldn't we? Oh, of course, they'd be clear profit, but one cannot wait for chance gifts, can one? One must be ready." Baskets of dewy rosebuds, of white pinks, sweet peas, of carnations lay withering behind the stalls. The florists had decked the tables, would do the same to-morrow. One could not bother with piles of things loose in baskets. Canon Bright, used to humble county bazaars, where every gift was welcomed, could not understand it. He bought lavishly. He looked with a smile which was almost wistful at the mites who fluttered about the thronged hall, their notices held up by wires above the crowns of roses. "For the tiny crippled children." They rattled their little bags of money as they sold their goods. "Fink there are any crippled children?" said Lady Pollie to her friend the Honourable Anne Buller. "No fear! They's all kept in big places in beds. It's just fun for us an' Mumsie. She loves her yellow dress; she's a rose too, Mumsie is. Who gave you the gold piece, Pollie?"