'Hallo, Hen!'
'Hallo, Al!'
'Doing anything after?'
'Why--yeah. Got a date.'
And as the other youth rode off, Henry glanced around once more,
nervously.
He was carrying the bamboo stick he affected. He twirled this for a
moment, and then wandered out of view.
But soon he reappeared, entered the restaurant and marched straight back
to Humphrey's table. His sensitive lips were compressed.
He said, 'Hallo, Hump!' and with only a moment's hesitation took the
chair opposite.
Humphrey buried his nose in his coffee cup.
Henry cleared his throat, twice; then, in a husky, weak voice,
remarked:--
'Get my note?'
There was a painfully long silence.
'Yes,' Humphrey replied then, 'I did.' And went at the pie.
Henry picked up a corner of the threadbare table-cloth and twisted it.
He had been pale, but colour was coming now, richly.
'Well,' he mumbled, 'I s'pose we've gotta say something about it.'
'Not necessary,' Humphrey observed briskly.
'Well, but--we'll have to plan----'
'Not at all.'
'You mean--you----' Henry's voice broke and faltered.
'I mean----' Humphrey's voice was clear, sharp.
'Ssh! Not so loud, Hump.'
'I mean that since you've done this extraordinary thing without so much
as consulting me, I will see it through. I don't want you for one minute
to think that I like it. God knows what it's going to mean--having women
running in there! My privacy was the only thing I had. You've chosen to
wreck it without a by-your-leave. I'll be ready at eight. And I'll see
that the door of your room is shut.'
With which he rose, handed his ticket to Mrs Stanley to be punched, and
left the restaurant.
Henry walked the streets, through gathering clouds of sand-flies, until
it was time to call at Mrs Henderson's.
7
They stood on the threshold.
'This is the shop,' Henry explained, 'where Hump works.'
'How perfectly fascinating!' exclaimed Mrs Henderson. Her quick eyes
took in lathes, kites, models of gliders, tools. 'Bring him 'straight
down here. I won't stir from this room till he's explained everything.'
'Hump!' called Henry, with austere politeness, up the stairway: 'Would
you mind coming down?'
He came--tall, stooping under the low lintel, in spotless white, distant
in manner, but courteous, firmly courteous.
Mrs Henderson, prowling about, lifted a wheel in a frame.
'What on earth is this thing?' she asked.
'A gyroscope.'
'What do you do with it?'
Humphrey wound a long twine about the handle and set the wheel spinning
like a top.
'Hold it by the handle,' said he. 'Now try to wave it around.'
The apparently simple machine swung itself back to the horizontal with
a jerk so violent that Mrs Henderson nearly lost her footing. Humphrey,
with evident hesitation, caught her elbow and steadied her. She turned
her eyes up to his, laughing, all interest.
'Sit right down in that chair and explain it to me,' she cried. 'How
on earth did it do that? It's uncanny.' And she seated herself on a
work-bench, with a light little spring.
When Henry showed Corinne up the stairs, Humphrey was talking with
an eager interest that had not before been evident in him. And Mrs
Henderson was listening, interrupting him where his easy flow of
scientific terms and mechanical axioms ran too fast for her.
Henry's pulse beat faster. Suddenly the pleasantly arranged old
barn looked, felt different. Charm had entered it. And the exciting
possibility of fellowship--a daring fellowship. He was up in the
living-room now. Corinne was moving lazily, comfortably about, humming
a song by the sensational new Richard Strauss who was upsetting all
settled musical tradition just then, and prying into corners and
shelves. She wore a light, shimmery, silky dress that gave out a faint
odour of violets. It drugged Henry, that odour. He felt for the first
time as if he belonged in these rooms himself.
Corinne found the kitchen cupboard', and exclaimed.
'Mildred!' she called down the stairs, in her rich drawling voice, 'come
right up here--the cutest thing!'