Her last sight of the prince was somewhat depressing: in a final access of despair he was kicking the baron's shins.
Pollyooly said, with far more indulgence than she had generally shown him: "I don't suppose he'll break out like that very often." "Still, after all your training, it is sad to see him massacring his faithful mentor," said the Honourable John Ruffin.
"Yes: it isn't nice of him," said Pollyooly without any great annoyance in her tone.

"But really it's the baron's fault; he'd only have to smack him about twice." "I expect he has conscientious scruples against smacking princes of the blood royal.

Many people undoubtedly have," said the Honourable John Ruffin.
"Perhaps he has.

But I think he'll miss me," said Pollyooly in a tone of sufficient satisfaction.
The baron would indeed miss her; and he was one of the saddest men in Pyechurch that day.

With the departure of Pollyooly his hours of ease came to an end.