She and Kitty were leaving the School at four o'clock on the Thursday
afternoon when the son of the fancy stationer joined them, and, taking
it quite for granted that his tidy bit and his tennis-lawn made him as
desirable to Louie as they evidently exalted him in Kitty's eyes,
walked westwards along Holborn with them. He wore a new red waistcoat
with brass buttons, and perhaps it was in order to live up to his
splendour that he made Louie an offer which she curtly declined. They
were passing a confectioner's shop; perhaps he noticed--for he seemed
a sharp enough little bounder--Louie's glance at the window; he turned
to her.
"Like some chocs?" he said.
Had Louie not already detested him, this would have been quite
enough. Priddy would have had less appalling manners. As it happened,
she would have liked some chocolates; lately she had craved for
chocolates as much as she had hated the smell of tobacco; but she
wanted no chocolates of this young man's buying.
"No, thank you," she replied; and presently she contrived to put Kitty
(the straight-backed Kitty whom a man accompanied) between Mr.
Merridew and herself.
She had the outside berth of the pavement, and she was wondering
whether she would not cross the road and hop on a bus, leaving Kitty
and the heir to the tennis-lawn together, when something Kitty said
detained her. It was something about Mr. Jeffries. Hitherto Louie had
hardly been listening.
"--oh, Jeff!" Merridew was saying. "He'll have to go till we come
back. Anyway I shall save half-a-cake of soap."
"There's such a lot _of_ him," Kitty giggled. "How big's your bath?"
"Well, he's an awfully useful coach for the Method exam., I will say
that for him; so we'll call it a fair swap. You know Evie's aunt,
don't you?"
"No."
"Thought you did. Good old Aunt Angela! (She always gets ratty when I
call her that.) I didn't know she was an old friend of the pater's
till we saw 'em at the Zoo that Sunday. So that's why they're coming."
"Oh, perhaps, perhaps not," said Kitty archly. "Perhaps it isn't the
aunt they want to see----"
A passer-by elbowed Louie off the pavement; all she caught of what
followed was Kitty's laugh.
"So that accounts for the new blouse! You never think of asking _me_
down to Guildford, Archie!" she said reproachfully.
"You must get a chaperon," Archie replied gallantly; "can't be did
without, Kitt-oh. The mater don't allow running after yours truly."
Then of another light passage Louie heard only the concluding laugh.
"Well, what of it?" Archie was saying knowingly; and Louie heard
something else about apron-strings. "Pale blue baby ribbon ones, eh
what?" Archie added, with a grin.
"Archie!" Kitty reproved him.
"Oh, come off it!" replied the fancy stationer's son. "As if a fellow
hadn't eyes! If you girls _will_ wear pneumonia blouses----"
"Archie, you're dreadful!" said Kitty, deliciously shocked.
"Well, it's a tannersworth at the Holborn Public Baths for Jeff next
week-end----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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