The two young blackguards followed slowly after the two women, close behind them. Mary carried a book, and was evidently making for the little bookshop that had a lending library of newish books.
"Well, Mary, while you go in there I'll go and see if the chemist can't give me something for my breathing, for its awful!" said Mrs. Watson, standing and puffing before the bookshop.
"Shall I come for you or you for me?" asked Mary.
"I'll sit and wait for you in Mr. Pusey's," panted Aunt Matilda, and she sailed forward again, after having glanced suspiciously backward at the two ne'er-do-wells who were hesitating a few yards away.
Mary, with her black hair in a huge bun, her hat with a wing held on by steel pins, was gazing contemplatively into the window of the bookshop, at the newest book. The Book-lovers Latest! said a cardboard announcement.
"Can you help a poor chap, Miss?" said Tom, dropping his head and edging near.
Mary started, looked frightened, glanced at the first tramp and then at the second, in agitation, began to fumble for her purse, and dropped her book, spilling the loose leaves.
Jack at once began to gather up the scattered pages of the book: an Anthony Trollope novel. Mary, with black kid-gloved fingers, was fumbling in her purse for a penny. Tom peeped into the purse.
"Lend us the half-a-quid, Mary," he said.
She looked at his face, and a slow smile of amusement dawned in her eyes.