III.
That step was George's. Abashed in this home of women he shuffled uneasily in the passage, then put a hesitating knuckle upon “Enquiries.”
From within a violent movement was followed by a strange guttural sound. George entered.
With scarlet face and watery eyes, Miss Porter—the stout young woman who presided over this department, and whose habit it was to suck sweets the better to beguile the tedium of her duties—gazed at him; made guttural sounds. The start of George's knock had caused this girl to swallow a particularly large sweet, and its downward passage was inflicting upon her considerable pain.
Her face was an alarming sight. “I'm afraid—” George began.
“Pardon!” gasped Miss Porter, driving the sweet with a tremendous swallow. “Pardon!”
“Not at all,” George pleasantly said. “Not at all. I called with reference to a lady-help.”
The grinding sweet forbade the pleasant dalliance
Miss Porter could have wished with this handsome young man. In a brave spasm (this girl was in great suffering), “I will tell the Principal,” she said; trod heavily to Miss Ram's door.
Fate is an abominable trickster; loves to tease us. With one hand it gave Miss Porter a delectable male; with the other prevented her enjoying him. Furthermore, it prematurely deprived her of a fine sweet.
Reappearing and holding the door ajar: “Miss Ram will see you,” she murmured. Tears were in this girl's eyes; the bolted sweet was still paining her very much indeed.