"Faith, we'll try our best," said Mr. Giveen, while Bobby Dashwood went in search of a taxicab. "There's nothing like fun, is there? And, faith, it's fun we've been having to-day, Mr. Smith and I."
"Mr. Smith?" said Miss Hitchen, and then recognising in a flash that the pseudonym was part of some artless plan of Bobby's, "Oh, yes, Mr. Smith. You mean my friend who has just introduced us. And what have you been doing? I mean, what did your fun consist of?"
"Faith, it mostly consisted of a girl."
"Yes?"
Mr. Giveen tilted his hat and scratched his head. He did not shine as a conversationalist, and as Miss Hitchen watched him, something of disfavour for this humourist with the shifty manner of a self-conscious child stole into her mind.
"Yes?" said Miss Hitchen.
"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Giveen.
"You were saying something about a girl," said Miss Hitchen.
"Oh, ay, it was a girl down at a place in the country, and, faith, by the same token, she was old enough to be my aunt," said Mr. Giveen. "It was a bazaar."