“I will take it. Please bring a bandbox for it.”
“I will, madam,” said the man, and would have taken the muff. But she held it fast, sought her purse, and laid the price on the counter. The shopman saw that she knew what both of them were about, took up the money, went and fetched a bandbox, put the muff in it before her eyes, and tied it up. The lady held out her hand for it.
“Shall I not send it for you, madam?” he said.
“I do not live here,” she answered. “I am on my way to the station.”
“Here, Jack,” cried the shopman to Clare, whom he caught sight of that moment going down to the basement, “take this bandbox, and go with the lady to the station.”
If his transaction with the lady had pleased the man, he would not have sent such a scarecrow to attend her, although she did not belong to the town, and they might never see her again! The lady, on her part, was about to insist on carrying the bandbox herself; but when Clare came forward, and looked up smiling in her face, she was at once aware that she might trust him. The man stood watching for the moment when she should turn her back, that he might substitute another bandbox for the one Clare carried; but Clare never looked at him, and when the lady walked out of the shop, walked straight out after her. Along the street he followed her steadily, she looking round occasionally to see that he was behind her.
They had gone about half-way to the station, when from a side street came a lad whom Clare knew as one employed in the packing-room. He carried a box exactly like that Clare had in his hand, and came softly up behind him. Clare did not turn his head, for he did not want to talk to him while he was attending on the lady.
“Look spry!” he said in a whisper. “She don’t twig! It’s all right! Maidstone sent me.”
Clare looked round. The lad held out his bandbox for him to take, and his empty hand to take Clare’s instead. But Clare had by this time begun to learn a little caution. Besides, the lady’s interests were in his care, and he could be party to nothing done behind her back! He had not time to think, but knew it his duty to stick by the bandbox. If we have come up through the animals to be what we are, Clare must have been a dog of a good, faithful breed, for he did right now as by some ancient instinct. He held fast to the box, neither slackening his pace nor uttering a word. The lad gave him a great punch. Clare clung the harder to the box. The lady heard something, and turned her head. The boy already had his back to her, and was walking away, but she saw that Clare’s face was flushed.
“What is the matter?” she asked.