Part 3 (1/2)
”What time will Mr. b.u.t.terwick get here?” said Pollyooly anxiously.
”There's no saying,” said Flossie cheerfully. ”But he'll get here as soon as the firm can spare him. He never loses time--Reginald doesn't.”
Again she adjured Pollyooly to give Hilary Vance the note as soon as he returned, and hurried down the street to the florist's shop.
CHAPTER III
THE INFURIATED SWAINS
Flossie's news filled Pollyooly with a considerable anxiety; but she was at a loss what to do. She knew that Hilary Vance was at the Savage Club, but she did not know whether she could reach it in time to find him there, for it was now a quarter of two. It did not seem to her a matter to be trusted to the electric telegraph; and living as she did in the old-time Temple, it never occurred to her to telephone.
There was nothing to do but await his return and give him Flossie's note of warning the moment he entered. She had been going to take the Lump for a walk on the embankment; she must postpone it. Then, unused to idleness, she cast about how she might fill up her time till his return.
She had swept and dusted the room that morning, after the departure of Mrs. Thomas, who had busied herself in them, for a short time, and ineffectually, with a dustpan, a brush, and a duster, so that there was no cleaning to be done. Presently it occurred to her that perhaps there might be some holes in the linen of her host which would be the better for her mending. A brief examination of his wardrobe showed her that her surmise was accurate: there was at least a month's hard mending to be done before that wardrobe would contain garments really worthy of the name of underclothing. She decided to begin by darning his socks, for she chanced to have some black darning wool in her workbox. She brought three pairs of them into the studio, and began to darn. Nature had been generous, even lavish, to Hilary Vance in the matter of feet; and his socks were enormous. So were the holes in them. But their magnitude did not shake Pollyooly's resolve to darn them.
She had been at work for about three-quarters of an hour when there came a knock at the door. She went to it in some trepidation, expecting to find a raging b.u.t.terwick on the threshold. She opened it gingerly, and to her relief looked into the friendly face of Mr. James, the novelist.
On that friendly face sat the expression of weary resignation with which he was wont to intervene in the affairs of his great-hearted, but impulsive, friend.
He greeted Pollyooly warmly, and asked if Hilary Vance were in.
Pollyooly told him the artist was lunching at the Savage Club.
Mr. James hesitated; then walking down the pa.s.sage into the studio, he said:
”Well, I expect that you'll be able to tell me the latest news of the affair. I've just got back from Scotland to find a letter from Mr.
Ruffin to say that Mr. Vance has at last found the lady of his dreams and is engaged to be married to a florist's a.s.sistant of the name of Flossie. I expect Mr. Ruffin's rotting; he knows what a bother Mr.
Vance is. But I thought I'd better come round and make sure. Do you know anything about it?”
”I don't think he's engaged to her quite. But he's expecting to be every day,” said Pollyooly.
”Oh, he is, is he?” said Mr. James in a tone of some exasperation.
”What's she like?”
”She's fair, with a lot of fair hair and a very large hat with lots of flowers in it,” said Pollyooly.
”She would be!” broke in Mr. James with a groan.
”And she gives herself airs because of that hat.”
”Just what I supposed,” said Mr. James, fuming.
”But she's engaged to Mr. Reginald b.u.t.terwick,” said Pollyooly.
”The deuce she is!” cried Mr. James; and a faint gleam of hope brightened his face. ”And who is Mr. Reginald b.u.t.terwick?”
”He's with Messrs. Mercer & Topping; but he can always get an afternoon off to knock the stuffing out of any one, because he boxes at the Chiswick Polytechnic. And he's going to get his afternoon off to-day to knock the stuffing out of Mr. Vance.”