Usually the fond imaginations of the night wear a different aspect in the dawn; but the visions of the Misses Semaphore had lost none of their attractiveness by morning. Though, as before said, they tried now and then to check their super-abounding joy by the cold reflection that perhaps the explorer’s widow was a humbug, and the Water of Youth liquid drawn from the nearest well, they had much ado to keep their excitement within bounds. Indeed their manner, despite all efforts, betrayed such suppressed exultation that Mr. Lorimer twice enquired of Major Jones if he thought “the old girls” were daft.
In the afternoon, punctually as the clock chimed a quarter to four, Miss Augusta, neatly dressed in black, and carrying Toutou in her arms, took her way to Gloucester Road Station and booked to King’s Cross, whence she took a cab to 194, Handel Street, W.C.
At about half-past six she returned. Prudence, who had been anxiously awaiting her, jumped up eagerly as she put her head in at the door and said, “Come into my room,” in a voice full of mysteries.
Arrived in the centre of her own apartment Miss Semaphore turned round and faced her sister with much solemnity. She spoke no word and began slowly unfastening her bonnet string. The air seemed big with fate.
“Well?” gasped Miss Prudence, “did you see her? Is it all right? What was she like?”
Miss Semaphore was in no haste to answer.
“The Water—tell me quick, was it any good. Did you buy it?”
“Look,” said Miss Semaphore with a wave of her hand.
The eyes of Miss Prudence followed the gesture and fell on Toutou. But was it Toutou, this transformed dog? Old, shaky, querulous, rheumatic Toutou? She went nearer. There was a jolly, bright-eyed little beast, a mere puppy, slim, young, and frisky, without a grey hair in his coat, who suddenly leaped on Prudence, barking and jumping round with lively manifestations of delight.
“She tested it on him,” said Miss Augusta in a hollow voice, “and see the result. Can we doubt its miraculous power any longer?”