Part 9 (2/2)

”It will do him good,” answered Mrs. Phillips; ”getting away from them all for an hour or two. I don't see much of him myself.”

She glanced round and lowered her voice. ”They tell me,” she said, ”that you're a B.A.”

”Yes,” answered Joan. ”One goes in for it more out of vanity, I'm afraid, than for any real purpose that it serves.”

”I took one or two prizes myself,” said Mrs. Phillips. ”But, of course, one forgets things. I was wondering if you would mind if I ran up occasionally to ask you a question. Of course, as you know, my 'usband 'as 'ad so few advantages”--the lady's mind was concerned with more important matters, and the aspirates, on this occasion, got themselves neglected--”It is wonderful what he 'as done without them. But if, now and then, I could 'elp him--”

There was something about the poor, foolish painted face, as it looked up pleadingly, that gave it a momentary touch of beauty.

”Do,” said Joan, speaking earnestly. ”I shall be so very pleased if you will.”

”Thank you,” said the woman. Miss Lavery came up in a hurry to introduce her to Miss Tolley. ”I am telling all my friends to read your articles,”

she added, resuming the gracious patroness, as she bowed her adieus.

Joan was alone again for a while. A handsome girl, with her hair cut short and parted at the side, was discussing diseases of the spine with a curly-headed young man in a velvet suit. The gentleman was describing some of the effects in detail. Joan felt there was danger of her being taken ill if she listened any longer; and seeing Madge's brother near the door, and unoccupied, she made her way across to him.

Niel Singleton, or Keeley, as he called himself upon the stage, was quite unlike his sister. He was short and plump, with a preternaturally solemn face, contradicted by small twinkling eyes. He motioned Joan to a chair and told her to keep quiet and not disturb the meeting.

”Is he brainy?” he whispered after a minute.

”I like him,” said Joan.

”I didn't ask you if you liked him,” he explained to her. ”I asked you if he was brainy. I'm not too sure that you like brainy men.”

”Yes, I do,” said Joan. ”I like you, sometimes.”

”Now, none of that,” he said severely. ”It's no good your thinking of me. I'm wedded to my art. We are talking about Mr. Halliday.”

”What does Madge think of him?” asked Joan.

”Madge has fallen in love with him, and her judgment is not to be relied upon,” he said. ”I suppose you couldn't answer a straight question, if you tried.”

”Don't be so harsh with me,” pleaded Joan meekly. ”I'm trying to think.

Yes,” she continued, ”decidedly he's got brains.”

”Enough for the two of them?” demanded Mr. Singleton. ”Because he will want them. Now think before you speak.”

Joan considered. ”Yes,” she answered. ”I should say he's just the man to manage her.”

”Then it's settled,” he said. ”We must save her.”

”Save her from what?” demanded Joan.

”From his saying to himself: 'This is Flossie's idea of a party. This is the sort of thing that, if I marry her, I am letting myself in for.' If he hasn't broken off the engagement already, we may be in time.”

He led the way to the piano. ”Tell Madge I want her,” he whispered. He struck a few notes; and then in a voice that drowned every other sound in the room, struck up a comic song.

The effect was magical.

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