"Then you had a good teacher. There's a crown for you."

"Oh sir ... it's too much."

"Nay, Polly--if your name isn't Polly it ought to be. What does your
mother call you?"

"Mostly an idle slut, sir."

Her face remained unmoved save her eyes, which danced with sly
merriment.


The men at the window burst into a roar of laughter. He who had entered
last laughed the loudest and deepest, and loud and deep as was that
laugh it was full of music. At its sound Gay turned sharply.

"What? Dick Leveridge? You've come at the right moment. We need someone
who knows good music when he hears it. What of this pretty child's
voice. Is it good?"

"Is it good? I'll answer your question, Mr. Gay, by asking you another.
Are you good at verses?"

"'Tis said my 'Fables' will be pretty well. The young Prince William
will have the dedication of it and if his mother, the Princess of Wales
approves, methinks my fortune's made," cried Gay buoyantly.

"Glad to hear it," replied Leveridge, dryly. "If I know anything about
His Royal Highness you'll gain a fortune sooner by writing a ballad or