"None of your taxis for me!" Mrs. Bundercombe declared warmly. "I am not disposed to trust myself to a piece of machinery that can be made to tell any sort of lies. I like to pay my fare and no more. If thirty-five minutes will get me to St. Pancras, then I guess I'll make my train."
"You are leaving us for a few days?" I remarked, suddenly catching a glimpse of a face like a round moon beaming at me from the window.
"I have received a dispatch," Mrs. Bundercombe announced, drawing a letter with pride from an article that I believe she called her reticule, "signed by the secretary of the Women's League of Freedom, asking me to address their members at a meeting to be held at Leeds to-night."
"Very gratifying!" I murmured.
"How the woman knew that I was in England," Mrs. Bundercombe continued, carefully replacing the missive, "I cannot imagine; but I suppose these things get about. In any case I felt it my duty to go. Some of us, Mr. Walmsley," she added, regarding me with a severe air, "think of little else save the various pleasures we are able to cram into our lives day by day. Others are always ready to listen to the call of duty."
"I wish you a pleasant journey, Mrs. Bundercombe," I said, raising my hat.
"I suppose I shall find Eve in?"
"No doubt you will!" she snapped.
I glanced at the depressed young woman.
"I am taking a temporary secretary with me," Mrs. Bundercombe explained. "Recent reports of my speeches in this country have been so unsatisfactory that I have lost confidence in the Press. I am taking an experienced shorthand-writer with me, who will furnish the various journals with a verbatim report of what I say."
"Much more satisfactory, I am sure," I agreed, edging toward the house. "I wish you a successful meeting, Mrs. Bundercombe. You mustn't miss your train!"