"How many would you like?"
"One," I said.
We selected a nice one between us, and he wrapped a piece of _Daily
Mail_ round it, leaving only the whiskers visible, and gave it to me.
The ice being now broken--I mean the ice being now--well, you see what
I mean--I was now in a position to ask for some of his ice.
"I wonder if you could let me have a little piece of your ice," I
ventured.
"How much ice do you want?" he said promptly.
"Sixpennyworth," I said, not knowing a bit how much it would be, but
feeling that Celia's threepennyworth sounded rather mean.
"Six of ice, Bill," he shouted to an inferior at the back, and
Bill tottered up with a block about the size of one of the lions in
Trafalgar Square. He wrapped a piece of _Daily News_ round it and gave
it to me.
"Is that all?" asked the fishmonger.
"That is all," I said faintly; and, with Algernon, the overwhiskered
crustacean, firmly clutched in the right hand and Stonehenge supported
on the palm of the left hand, I retired.
The flat seemed a very long way away, but having bought twice as much
ice as I wanted, and an entirely unnecessary lobster, I was not going
to waste still more money in taxis. Hot though it was, I would walk.
For some miles all went well. Then the ice began to drip through the
paper, and in a little while the underneath part of _The Daily News_
had disappeared altogether. Tucking the lobster under my arm I turned
the block over, so that it rested on another part of the paper. Soon
that had dissolved too. By the time I had got half-way our Radical
contemporary had been entirely eaten.
Fortunately _The Daily Mail_ remained. But to get it I had to
disentangle Algernon first, and I had no hand available. There was
only one thing to do. I put the block of ice down on the pavement,
unwrapped the lobster, put the lobster temporarily in my pocket,
spread its _Daily Mail_ out next to the ice, lifted the ice on to the
paper, and--looked up and saw Mrs. Thompson approaching.
She was the last person I wanted at that moment. In an hour and a half
she would be dining with us. Algernon would not be dining with us.
If Algernon and Mrs. Thompson were to meet now, would she not be
expecting him to turn up at every course? Think of the long-drawn-out
disappointment for her; not even lobster sauce!
There was no time to lose. I decided to abandon the ice. Leaving it
on the pavement I turned round and walked hastily back the way I had
come.
By the time I had shaken off Mrs. Thompson I was almost at the
fishmonger's. That decided me. I would begin all over again, and would
do it properly this time.
"I want," I said boldly, "threepennyworth of ice."
"Three of ice, Bill," said the fishmonger, and Bill gave me quite a
respectable segment in _The Morning Post_.
"And I want a taxi," I said, and I summoned one.
We drove quickly home.
As we neared the flat I suddenly remembered Algernon. I drew him out
of my pocket, red and undraped.
This would never do. If the porter saw me entering my residence with a
nice lobster, the news would soon get about, and before I knew where I
was I should have a super-tax form sprung on me. I placed the block of
ice on the seat, took off its _Morning Post_, and wrapped up Algernon.
Then I sprang out, gave the man a shilling, and got into the lift.
* * * * *
"Bless you," said Celia, "have you got it? How sweet of you!" And she
took my parcel from me. "Now we shall be able----Why, what's this?"