'Blunt! No—cheeky little devil,' remarked one of the young men, offering a new light upon the royal virtue of punctuality; but from the enthusiasm with which they availed themselves of the rest of Lord Borrodaile's side of the bench, it was obvious they had hurried to the spot with the intention of securing front seats at the show.
'Of course it ain't goin' to be as much fun as the 'Yde Park Sunday aufternoons. Jim Wrightson goes to them. Keeps things lively—'e does.'
'Kicks up a reg'lar shindy, don't 'e?'
'Yes. We can't do nothin' 'ere—ain't enough'—whether of space or of spirited young men he did not specify.
As they lit their cigarettes the company received further additions—one obviously otherwise employed than with politics. Her progress—was it symbolic?—was necessarily slow, for a small child clung to her skirt, and she trundled a sickly boy in a go-cart. The still sniffling person in possession of the middle seat on the other side (her anxious and watery eye fixed on the penny) was told by Miss Levering to make room for the new-comers. The child's way of doing so was to crowd closer to the neighbourhood of the fascinating coin. But that mandate to 'make room' had proved a conversational opening through which poured—or trickled rather—the mother's sorry little history. Her husband was employed in the clothing department of the Army and Navy Stores—yes, nine years now. He was considered very lucky to keep his place when the staff was reduced. But the costliness of raising the children! It was well that three were dead. If she had it all to do over again—no! no!
The seeming heartlessness with which she envisaged the non-existence of her babies contrasted strangely with her patient tenderness to the querulous boy in the go-cart.
Meanwhile Miss Levering had not forgotten her earlier acquaintance. As the wan mother watched the end of the transaction which left the sniffler now quite consoled, in possession of the modest coin, she said naïvely—
'When anybody gives one of my children a penny, I always save half of it for them the next day.'
Vida Levering turned her head away, and in so doing met Lord Borrodaile's eyes over the back of the bench. She gave a faint start of surprise, and then—
'She saves half of it!' was all she said.