CHAPTER VI.
The Girl Comes Near The Lugger.
I.
At breakfast upon the following day George set forth the result of his labours; with urgent eloquence extolled the virtues of this Miss Humfray.
Before Mr. Marrapit's plate lay an open envelope; upon the back George could read the inscription “Norfolk Street Agency for Distressed Gentlewomen.”
What had Miss Ram said of his Mary? The thought that she had written a reference which at the last moment would dash into dust this mighty scheme, was as a twisting knife in George's vitals. Every time that Mr. Marrapit stretched his hand for the letter the agitated young man upon a fresh impulse would dash into defiant eulogy of his darling; and so impetuous was the rush of his desperate words that at the beat of every new wave Mr. Marrapit would withdraw his startled hand from the letter; frown at George across the coffee-pot.
At last: “Sufficient,” he announced. “Curb zeal. Mount discretion. Satisfy the demands of appetite. You have not touched food. Tasks he before you. Do not starve the brain. I am tired of your eulogies of this person. For twenty-one minutes you have been hurling advertisements at me. I am a hoarding.”
The bill-sticker pushed a piece of bacon into a dry mouth; sat with goggling eyes.
The hoarding continued: “I have here this person's reference. It is good.”
“Down shot the piece of bacon; convulsively bolted like Miss Porter's sweet.
“Good!” cried George.
“I said good. For faulty articulation I apologise.”
“I know, I heard. I meant that I am pleased.”
“Strive to express the meaning. The person arrives for inspection at mid-day. For your assistance I tender thanks. The incident is now closed. Do you labour at hospital to-day?”
George had determined to be at the fount of news. In town, uncertain, he could have applied himself to nothing. He said:
“No, here; I work here to-day.”
“To your tasks,” commanded Mr. Marrapit.