"I cannot," he murmured to himself, "recall why.--I don't know, Polly."

"You must be a simpleton to do things and not know why, mustn't you?"
said Polly.

In spite of which reproof, he looked at the child again intently, as she
bent her head over her card structure, her rich curls shading her face.
"It is impossible," he thought, "that I can ever have seen this pretty
baby before. Can I have dreamed of her? In some sorrowful dream?"

He could make nothing of it. So he went into the building trade as a
journeyman under Polly, and they built three stories high, four stories
high; even five.

"I say! Who do you think is coming?" asked Polly, rubbing her eyes after
tea.

He guessed: "The waiter?"

"No," said Polly, "the dustman. I am getting sleepy."

A new embarrassment for Barbox Brothers!

"I don't think I am going to be fetched to-night," said Polly. "What do
you think?"

He thought not, either. After another quarter of an hour, the dustman
not merely impending, but actually arriving, recourse was had to the
Constantinopolitan chamber-maid: who cheerily undertook that the child