Part 21 (2/2)
”After you,” said Charlie, holding the door open.
He was struck by the agility with which his old friend descended the stairs, and smiled afresh at the increasing possibilities of the situation.
”I say, this is very pleasant,” beamed Mr. Walkingshaw as they jingled off in a hansom.
Rather bashfully he took from his overcoat pocket a pair of dazzling white kid gloves.
”These are the proper things in the evening, aren't they?” he inquired.
”I notice you've got on a pair.”
His guest chuckled.
”They'll do to dance in afterwards if we go on to Covent Garden,” he laughed, and then added waggishly, ”How would you like to go to a fancy dress ball, Heriot?”
”Is there one on to-night?” asked Heriot.
”Yes.”
”Are you going?”
”Oh, I've given up that sort of thing years ago; but of course, if you're keen to go, I might stretch a point.”
Mr. Walkingshaw looked at him doubtfully out of the corner of his eye and answered nothing.
A little later the two old friends had grown more merrily confidential than they had been since the days of their youth. Charlie Munro was a little puzzled by the subtle alteration in his host, but he was not in the least disposed to criticize it. He felt more and more inclined to tempt him into a further display of frivolity.
”Well, now, what about the Covent Garden ball?” he suggested.
Heriot's eyes grew bright, but his mouth pursed cautiously.
”Aren't they rather--er--fast?” he inquired.
”As fast as you choose to make 'em.”
”But aren't the ladies rather--er--rather--well--”
”Not a bit,” said the Colonel. ”There's a mixture, that's all.”
”But I say, Charlie, what about being seen by any one we know?”
”We'll get a disguise for you,” smiled Charlie.
”Really, can you?”
”Oh, I'll see to that.”
He began to picture a very amusing evening with his old friend Heriot.
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