‘It won’t do, Crosse, it really won’t!’ said Hale solemnly.
‘What rot it is! Here am I doing nothing, and I might be of some use or encouragement to her. Let’s get a cab!’
‘Wo, laddie, wo then, boy! Keep him in hand, Hale! Get to his head.’
Frank flung himself down into an armchair, and muttered about absurd conventions.
‘It can’t be helped, my boy. It is correct.’
‘Buck up, Crosse, buck up! We’ll make the thing go with a buzz when we do begin. Two of our Johnnies are coming, regular fizzers, and full of blood both of them. We’ll paint the Langham a fine bright solferino, when the church parade is over.’
Frank sat rather sulkily watching the slow minute-hand, and listening to the light-hearted chatter of the boy-lieutenant, and the more deliberate answers of his best man. At last he jumped up and seized his hat and gloves.
‘Half-past,’ said he. ‘Come on. I can’t wait any longer. I must do something. It is time we went to the church.’
‘Fall in for the church!’ cried Jack. ‘Wait a bit! I know this game, for I was best man myself last month. Inspect his kit, Hale. See that he’s according to regulations. Ring? All right. Parson’s money? Right oh! Small change? Good! By the right, quick march!’
Frank soon recovered his spirits now that he had something to do. Even that drive through the streaming streets, with the rain pattering upon the top of their four-wheeler, could not depress him any longer. He rose to the level of Jack Selby, and they chattered gaily together.