It is an unexpected sort of place.

One evening you go there and find it in full blast; the piano tinkling, many cramped couples dancing in the two tiny rooms, and every table covered with tea cups or lemonade glasses.

Another night you may arrive at exactly the same time and there will be only candlelight and a few groups, talking in low tones.
Here, as in all parts of the Village, the man in the rolling collar, and the girl in the smock, will be markedly in evidence.

Yes; they really do look like that.

Lots of the girls have their hair cut short too.
And "Polly's"! In many minds, "Polly's" and the Village mean one and the same thing.
Certainly no one could intelligently write about the one without due and logical tribute to the other.