"You do it," said the girl, and she spoke to Edward over her shoulder. "I didn't think it would be like this. Tell them we've got to go, but Mrs. Peacock will give them each a bun."
"How clever of her to have noticed the name," he thought; but he said, "Are you sure you don't want to have the pleasure of seeing their pleasure?"
"No—no," she said. "Let's get away. I can't bear it. Mrs. Peacock will see to it for us—won't you?"
"That I will, lovey, and keep the change for you against you call again. You can trust me."
"We don't want any change," she said. "Spend it all on buns, or cake, or anything you like. It is good of you. Oh, good-by, and thank you—so much. I didn't think it would be like this," she said, and gave Mrs. Peacock both hands, while Edward explained to the crowd outside.
A wail of disappointment went up, but stayed itself as Mrs. Peacock rushed to the door.
"It's all true," she said, in that thick, rich, caky voice; "every good little boy and gell's to have a bun. Now then," she added, in a perfect blaze of tactlessness, "three cheers for the bride and bridegroom, and many happy returns."
The two had to stand side by side and hear those shrill, thin cheers, strengthened by the voices of fathers and mothers at the windows. He had to wave his hat to the crowd and to be waved at in return from every window in the street—even those too far away for their occupants to have any certain idea why they cheered and waved. She had to bow and kiss her hand to the children and to bow and smile to the window-dwellers.
Next moment she was out of the shop and running like a deer along a side-street, he following. They took hands and ran; and by luck their street brought them to a road where trams were, and escape. They rode on the top of the tram, and she held his hand all the way to Charing Cross. I cannot explain this. Neither of them spoke a word. Further, it was almost without a word that they got themselves to Richmond. It was not till they had been for many minutes in the deep quiet of the bracken and green leafage that she spoke, with a little laugh that had more than laughter in it.
"We might almost as well," she said, "have been married in church."