There was a pause.

Who's Uncle Jim?" Mr. Polly asked in a faded voice.

Don't you know who Uncle Jim is? He'll show you. He's a scorcher, is

Uncle Jim. He only came back just a little time ago, and he's scooted

three men. He don't like strangers about, don't Uncle Jim. He can

swear. He's going to teach me, soon as I can whissle properly."

Teach you to swear!" cried Mr. Polly, horrified.

"And spit," said the little girl proudly. "He says I'm the gamest

little beast he ever came across--ever."

For the first time in his life it seemed to Mr. Polly that he had come

across something sheerly dreadful. He stared at the pretty thing of

flesh and spirit in front of him, lightly balanced on its stout little

legs and looking at him with eyes that had still to learn the

expression of either disgust or fear.

I say," said Mr. Polly, "how old are you?"

Nine," said the little girl.

She turned away and reflected. Truth compelled her to add one other

statement.

274

The History of Mr Polly