"Ha, ha!" jeered the Colonel. "So you're coming round to my way of thinking at last, are you?"
Next evening, the Colonel, eager always as a youth to consummate his purpose, bicycled with his wife through Paradise to Old Town.
At the corner opposite the Rectory they met Alf Caspar, who was clearly in high feather. The Colonel dismounted for a word with the convener of the League.
"Well, Caspar," he said. "So you've got your licence from the Watch Committee, I hear."
Alf purred.
"Yes, sir. All O.K.—down to the men that'll blow the horn to give em a bit o music."
"When do you start?"
"Bank Holiday, sir. I was just coming up to tell mother we were through. Last char-a-banc came this afternoon—smart as paint."
The Colonel and Mrs. Lewknor walked on towards Church Street. At Billing's Corner, waiting for the bus, was Edward Caspar. He was peering at a huge placard advertising expeditions by Caspar's Road-touring Syndicate, to start on August 3rd.
The Colonel, mischievous as a child, must cross the road to his old Trinity compeer.