The Wimbledon tournament now being over, in which Tommy Clinton had
survived but two rounds, that young gentleman was only too free to
devote his time to Ben, and it was therefore the more galling to him
to find her so busy. He called so frequently that Mr. Harford was
constrained to mention the fact.
"You will excuse me, Miss Staveley," he said one afternoon after Tommy
had left, "but would you mind if we put a ladder against the wall for
your friend to come and leave by?"
"Which friend?" Ben asked.
"The affable gent in the Panama hat," said Mr. Harford, "who is here
most days and walks through our modest but well-conducted premises as
if they were a pig-sty. We don't mind a man despising the treasures of
literature; reading is, after all, a matter of taste; but we do bar
the way he scowls at us. Even Pat, mild and tolerant as he is, almost
squared up to him to-day. My own idea is to exchange this poor little
creature here--who shares the besetting sin of all spaniels in being
too ready to make indiscriminate friends--for a man-eating mastiff.
What's his quarrel with us, anyway? Does he dislike us personally or
did a book seller once try to do him in?"
Ben laughed. "Poor Tommy!" she said. "Be a little patient, he's going
back to Madeira next week."
"An excellent place for him," said Mr. Harford.
Ben herself found Tommy rather a trial, for he not only looked at her
with such hungry hopelessness, but he took up a great deal of valuable
time.
His next visit was a veritable ordeal.
"Look here, Ben," he said, "I've been working for you since I was here
last and I think you'll agree that I've been rather useful. Of course
I hate your being in this business--the very phrase 'Beck and Call'
makes me sick, for a girl like you too!--and being mixed up with those
two fellows downstairs. By the way, the lame one sings too: something
about his 'Bonnie,' confound him! Well, since you're set on sticking
to business, and since you won't do what I ask, I want to help you to
be more comfortable and more successful. So I've been nosing about
and I've found you some really good premises in a central part, far
removed from this back-alley and those musical shopkeepers downstairs."
"What ever do you mean?" Ben demanded, her colour rising dangerously.
"Just what I have said," Tommy replied. "I have found you some really
good premises. In Dover Street. Close to the big hotels, close to
Piccadilly, and approached from the street direct by a staircase. Very
important, that."
"My dear boy, no doubt you meant it very well," said Ben, with some
temper, "but I can't have my affairs interfered with like this. I have
a lease here, for one thing; for another, it has become well known.
For another, I don't want to move. Dover Street, no doubt, is a good
position; but I can't afford Dover Street. This is cheap and central
enough. I hope you haven't committed yourself at all."
"I've got an option," said Tommy.
"Then please oblige me by instantly getting rid of it," said Ben.
"As to the higher rent," said Tommy, "you'd make that up in a jiffy
when people found you had a separate entrance and didn't have to go
through a shop."
"Please get rid of it instantly," said Ben. "I shan't have a moment's
peace of mind till you do. I'll come down with you," she said, with a
sudden foreboding of an explosion below.
"Oh, Ben," said Tommy, miserably, "and I did want to help you! All
right," he added angrily, "I'll go. And I may as well say good-bye now
instead of next week. Good-bye."
"But I'm coming down with you all the same," said Ben.