“All drawing and the wind astern!” cried the Admiral. “Fourteen knots if it's one. Why, by George, it is that woman!”
A rolling cloud of yellow dust had streamed round the curve of the road, and from the heart of it had emerged a high tandem tricycle flying along at a breakneck pace. In front sat Mrs. Westmacott clad in a heather tweed pea-jacket, a skirt which just{?} passed her knees and a pair of thick gaiters of the same material. She had a great bundle of red papers under her arm, while Charles, who sat behind her clad in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, bore a similar roll protruding from either pocket. Even as they watched, the pair eased up, the lady sprang off, impaled one of her bills upon the garden railing of an empty house, and then jumping on to her seat again was about to hurry onwards when her nephew drew her attention to the two gentlemen upon the footpath.
“Oh, now, really I didn't notice you,” said she, taking a few turns of the treadle and steering the machine across to them. “Is it not a beautiful morning?”
“Lovely,” answered the Doctor. “You seem to be very busy.”
“I am very busy.” She pointed to the colored paper which still fluttered from the railing. “We have been pushing our propaganda, you see. Charles and I have been at it since seven o'clock. It is about our meeting. I wish it to be a great success. See!” She smoothed out one of the bills, and the Doctor read his own name in great black letters across the bottom.
“We don't forget our chairman, you see. Everybody is coming. Those two dear little old maids opposite, the Williamses, held out for some time; but I have their promise now. Admiral, I am sure that you wish us well.”
“Hum! I wish you no harm, ma'am.”
“You will come on the platform?”
“I'll be—— No, I don't think I can do that.”
“To our meeting, then?”