You should have seen me early in the afternoon."

I can imagine it.... I've seen the others."

What others?" Mr. Polly had landed now and was fastening up the punt.

Whaim has scooted."

Scooted?"

He conies and scoots them. He'll scoot you too, I expect."

A mysterious shadow seemed to fall athwart the sunshine and

pleasantness of the Potwell Inn.

I'm not a scooter," said Mr. Polly.

Uncle Jim is."

She whistled a little flatly for a moment, and threw small stones at a

clump of meadow-sweet that sprang from the bank. Then she remarked:

"When Uncle Jim comes back he'll cut your insides out.... P'raps, very

likely, he'll let me see."

273

The History of Mr Polly