"Mr. Bumble," she said, "we cannot use your car without you. That we do not know one another is my fault. Please get in. I want to tell you how very sorry we are about your case."
Again Mr. Bumble bowed.
"Your ladyship is most kind. If Mrs. Bumble was 'ere, it'd be different…. But we're both of us proud, me lady, fer you to 'ave the car. An'—an' please don' put yerself out, m'm. I'm in no 'urry."
The quiet determination of his tone was unmistakable. The little man was clearly stoutly resolved not to improve an acquaintance which his wife did not share. Wealth had not clouded his memory nor corrupted his simple heart.
Lady Touchstone hauled down her flag.
"You're one of the old school, Mr. Bumble," she said, "so we won't argue. Will you tell Mrs. Bumble that, if Thursday's quite convenient, we shall call at The Shrubbery and ask her to give us some tea?"
And Valerie put out her hand.
"Good-bye for the present," she said. "Thank you so very much."
The next moment they were gone.
Hat still in hand, the ex-grocer looked after the car.