“The smallest’s big enough to put you in his pocket,” he said. “Biddy, let’s hurry. I know an Archbishop that we could have fix it to-night—I know two, if it comes to that. One of ’em was my godfather.”
“Well, you could know six, and ’twould be all the good it would do you,” commented his Biddy serenely. “I know one old priest, and his name’s Father Leary, and ’twill be a bitter grief to him, but he may do it, since he’s one of the Saints themselves and terrible fond of a bad girl. Archbishop, indeed!”
“Let’s find him, then, and tell him. I’ll——”
“We’ll not, then. He’s a poor old man that needs his sleep, and we’re two mad things that should know better. See the stars, darlin’; they’re the cool little things. We must do nothing in haste, except leave this door, maybe. The whole lot of them will be out on us like a lot of ravening wolves any minute. Wherever can we go?”
“We can go and get married,” said the Duke of Bolingham, who was a simple and determined individual. “I’ll get——”
“You might get a hansom——” Biddy danced in rapture on the tips of her toes. “You might get that one there, and we could ride a hundred miles or so, and watch how cool the stars are. I never was long enough in one in my life to get over feeling sad that soon it would stop, an’ I’d have to be off and out. Would you get one—would you?”
The duke raised his hand to the hansom, and it crawled toward them dubiously. The small dancing creature on the pavement looked frankly incredible, both to the horse and the driver, but the large black one looked as though it knew its mind. The two of them got in quickly, and the small one tilted back her shining head against the great one’s shoulder, sighing rapturously, while the black cloak fell open, and her skirts frothed about her in a manner scandalous to behold.
“Where to?” inquired the cabby with severity.
“Oh, what matter at all where to?” cried the incredible small one. “A hundred miles or so any way at all, just so we can see those stars go out; they’re that cool and calm it’s an aggravation.”
“Drive straight ahead—a hundred miles,” said the great one in so terrifying a tone that the cabby gave one sharp pant and started on his pilgrimage. Roaring drunk or plain barmy, the large occupant of the cab was all too plainly one to be humoured.