Felix saw the wish in the look, and taking the flowers from his coat, gave them to Pollypod.
"If you put these in the bunch," he said, "there will be more than one colour."
Pollypod held up her face to be kissed again, and nestled closer to him.
"I knew you were good," she said.
When she had arranged the flowers, Felix found a piece of string in his pocket, and tied them together for her. The party near the coffin were in the same position as they had been when he came into the churchyard; the old man and Gribble junior had not returned. Having nothing better to do, and burning with a desire to know more of the fair girl whose acquaintance he had made in so strange a manner, Felix resumed his conversation with little Pollypod. He had no difficulty in doing so; Pollypod was brimful of talk.
"So you dream of everything," he said.
Pollypod nodded, repeated "E-ve-ry-thing" under her breath, and held up her bunch of flowers admiringly, turning them this way and that, and thinking how pleased father would be with them.
"What did you dream of last night?"
"I don't remember," replied Pollypod, after a little consideration. "I know what I dreamt of the night before."
"Of what?"