“Something could be done,” said Mr. Tridge. “I’m sure it could. Only, of course, it’s ’ard thinking when you’re thirsty.”
“You think away! I’ll see you ain’t thirsty!” eagerly promised Mr. Dobb; and forthwith gave orders which appreciably increased sympathy for him in his tribulation.
“To begin with, you’re sure she recognized you, ’Orace?” pressed Mr. Tridge.
“I see ’er regular jump at sight of me,” asserted Mr. Dobb.
“P’r’aps,” suggested Mr. Clark, “it was your clothes she saw.”
“Next thing,” continued Mr. Tridge, “what makes you think she’s tracked you down special? It may be the biggest haccident ’er being ’ere and coming across you.”
“Why, she may ’ave forgotten you,” put forward Mr. Clark. “After all, it’s eight months and more since you saw her last.”
“Perhaps she’s got married, too,” said Mr. Lock, hopefully.
“Well, there, I never thought of that!” exclaimed Mr. Dobb, brightening. “Bit fickle it would be, though, wouldn’t it?” he went on in accents slightly flavoured with disapproval.
“Seems to me,” said Mr. Lock, “the best thing would be to find out just how the land lies. You’re a pretty good hand at that sort of thing, Sam. Suppose you was to go over and look about, and see if you could see her and have a little chat with her?”