“I’d have bet on it,” said the squire.
The silence fell again. Mechanically Captain Baster rubbed the blue bump on his marble brow.
Erebus broke the silence; she said: “Has any one heard Wiggins’ new song?”
The squire, hastily and thoughtlessly, cried: “No! Let’s hear it!”
“Come on, Wiggins!” cried the vicar heartily.
They felt that the situation was saved.
Sir Maurice did not share their relief; he knew what was coming, knew it in the depths of his horror-stricken heart. He ground his teeth softly and glared at the piquant and glowing face of his niece as if he could have borne the earth’s suddenly opening and swallowing her up.
The blushing Wiggins held back a little, and kicked his left foot with his right. Then pushed forward by the eager Terror, to whom Erebus had chanted the song before lunch, he stepped forward and in his dear shrill treble, sang, slightly out of tune:
“Where did his colonel dig him up,
So young, so fair, so sweet,
With his shining nose, and his square, square toes?
Was it Wapping or Basinghall Street?”
As he sang Wiggins looked artlessly at Captain Baster; as he finished everybody was looking at Captain Baster’s boots; his feet required them square-toed.