Part 27 (1/2)

Tim brightened up at the mention of his apparatus.

”Oh, no,” he said. ”That's all right. In fact I've been able to improve it greatly. You remember the trouble I had with the refraction from the second prism. The adjustment of the angles---- The way the light fell----”

I could not, especially before breakfast, argue about prisms.

”If your machinery's all right,” I said, ”what's the matter with you?”

”It's this party of Michael's,” he said. ”I forgot all about it till yesterday afternoon.”

”Well, you remembered it then. If you'd forgotten it till this afternoon it would have been a much more serious matter.”

”But,” said Tim, ”Michael told me to get some new clothes. He said he'd pay for them, which was very kind of him. But when I got up to London the shops were shut. I hurried as much as I could, but there were one or two things I had to do before I started. And now I'm afraid Michael will be angry. He said most particularly that I must be well dressed because there are ladies coming.”

”Stand up,” I said, ”and let me have a look at you.”

Poor Tim stood up, looking as if he expected me to box his ears. There was no disguising the fact that his costume fell some way short of the standard maintained by Cowes yachtsmen.

Tim surveyed himself with a rueful air. He was certainly aware of the condition of his clothes.

”If I could even have got a ready made suit,” he said, ”it might have fitted. But I couldn't do that. I didn't get to London till nearly ten o'clock. There was a train at four. I wish now that I'd caught it. It was only a few minutes after three when I remembered about the party and I might have caught that train. But I didn't want to leave just then.

There were some things that I had to do. Perhaps now I'd better not go to the party. Michael will be angry if I don't; but I expect he'll be angrier if I go in these clothes. I think I'd better not go at all.”

He looked at me wistfully. He was hoping, I am sure, that I might decide that he was too disreputable to appear.

”No,” I said, ”you can't get out of it that way. You'll have to come.”

”But can I? You know better than I do. I did brush my trousers a lot this morning--really. I brushed them for quite half an hour; but there are some mark----”

He held out his right leg and looked at it hopelessly.

”Stains, I suppose,” he said.

”You'd be better,” I said, ”if you had a tie.”

Tim put his hand up to his neck and felt about helplessly.

”I must have forgotten to put it on,” he said. ”I have one, I know. But it's very hard to remember ties. They are such small things.”

”Take one of mine,” I said, ”and put it on before you forget again.”

”Anything else?” said Tim.

”I don't think,” I said, ”that there's anything else we can do. My clothes wouldn't fit you. I might lend you a pair of boots but I doubt if you'd get them on. I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll get yours cleaned. Take them off.”

I do not think that my servant liked cleaning Tim's boots. But he did it and I daresay it was good for him.

I was a little anxious about the meeting between Mrs. Ascher and Tim.

When they parted in New York she was deeply vexed with him and I could not think it likely that a woman as devout as she is would readily forgive a man who had been guilty of blasphemy. On the other hand she had very graciously accepted my invitation to be present when the new invention was shown off. She might, of course, only wish to hear the other Gorman making a speech; but she might have forgotten Tim's offence, or changed her mind about its heinousness. In any case Tim's clothes would make no difference to her. Miss Gibson might think less of him for being shabby. But Mrs. Ascher was quite likely to prefer him in rags. Many people regard unkemptness as a sign of genius; which is, I daresay, the reason why poets seldom wash their necks.

I need not have troubled myself about the matter. Mrs. Ascher took no notice of Tim. She was sitting in the saloon carriage when we reached the station and was surrounded with newspapers. She greeted me with effusion.