"Because that pastime shows off the feminine figure to greatest
advantage," I observed. "Girls who punt generally wear pretty brown
shoes, and their dresses just a trifle short, so that as they skip from
end to end of the punt they are enabled to display a discreet _soupcon
of lingerie_ and open-work stocking--eh?"
"Ah, no," she protested, laughing. "You're too sarcastic. Punting is
really very good fun."
"For ladies, no doubt," I said. "But men prefer sculling. They've no
waists to show, nor pretty flannel frocks to exhibit to the river
crowd."
"Ah, Frank, you always were a little harsh in your conclusions," she
sighed. "I suppose it is because you sometimes write criticisms.
Critics, I have always imagined, should be old and quarrelsome persons--
you are not."
"No," I responded. "But old critics too often view things through their
own philosophical spectacles. The younger school take a much broader
view of life. I'm not, however, a critic," I added, "I'm only a
journalist."
I could hear old Mrs. Joad growling to herself because the steak was
ready and she could not lay the cloth because of my visitor. Meanwhile,
the room had become filled to suffocation with the fumes of frizzling
meat, until a blue haze seemed to hang over everything. So used was I
to this choking state of things that until that moment I never noticed
it. Then I quickly rose and opened the window with a word of apology
that the place "smelt stuffy."
She glanced around the shabby, smoke-mellowed room, and declared that it
pleased her. Of course bachelors had to shift for themselves a good
deal, she said, yet this place was not at all uncomfortable. I told her
of my companion who shared the chambers with me, of his genius as a
journalist, and how merrily we kept house together, at which she was
much interested. All girls are more or less interested in bachelors'
arrangements.
Our gossip drifted mostly into the bygones--of events at Harwell, and
the movements of various mutual friends, when suddenly Dick Cleugh burst
into the room crying--
"I say, old chap, there's another first-class horror! Oh! I beg your
pardon," he said in apology, drawing back on noticing Mary. "I didn't
know you had a visitor; forgive me."
"Let me introduce you," I said, laughing at his sudden confusion. "Mr.
Cleugh--Miss Blain."
The pair exchanged greetings, when Cleugh, with that merry good humour
that never deserted him, said--
"Ladies never come to our den, you know, Miss Blain; therefore please
forgive me for blaring like a bull. Our old woman who cleans out the
kennels is as deaf as a post, therefore we have contracted a habit of
shouting."
"What is the horror of which you spoke?" she asked, with a forced laugh,
I was looking at her at that instant and noticed how unusually pale and
agitated her face had suddenly become.
"Oh, only a startling discovery in to-night's special," he answered.
"A discovery!" she gasped, "Where?"
He glanced at the paper still in his hand, while she bent forward in her
chair with an eagerness impossible of concealment. Her cheeks were
pallid, her eyes dark, wild-looking and brilliant.
"The affair," he said, "seems to have taken place in Loampit Vale,
Lewisham."
"Ah!" she ejaculated, quite involuntarily giving vent to a sigh of
relief which Cleugh, quick and observant, did not fail to notice.
My friend threw the paper aside, sniffed at the odour of burnt meat, and
suggested that the Hag was endeavouring to asphyxiate us.
"The Hag!" exclaimed Mary, surprised. "Who's the Hag!"
"Old Mrs. Joad," responded Dick. "We call her that, first, because
she's so ugly; and secondly, because when she's cooking for us she
croons to herself like the Witch of Endor."
"She certainly is decidedly ugly with that cross-eye of hers. It struck
me, too, that she had an ancient and witch-like aspect when she admitted
me," she laughed.
Thus we chatted on until the bell on the Hall struck seven and she rose
to go, first, however, inviting Dick to accompany me to Riverdene, an
invitation which he gladly accepted. Then she bade him adieu and I
accompanied her out into Holborn, where I placed her in a taxi for
Waterloo.