Men disliked Parkin for his affectation and conceit. On board his ship he had a very poor time; but ashore he was absolutely it, so far as the ladies were concerned. He was a shining light at the local skating-rink, where, in company with one or other of his girl friends, he waltzed and two-stepped to his heart's content. When he could obtain the necessary leave he always attended dances—'Entrance fee, one shilling; evening dress optional'—and was never averse to singing 'They all love Jack,' or some other very nautical song, at a tea-party at which ladies were present.
It came to pass that one wet afternoon, when there was no football, Pincher, feeling the want of exercise, was forced to take refuge in the skating-rink, and almost the first person he saw was Emmeline Figgins gliding round with the immaculate Wilfrid. They both skated well; but whereas the girl did it with a really natural grace, her companion, desperately anxious to create an impression, put in sundry little kicks and twirls of his own invention which made his performance border on the ridiculous. He was showing off, in fact.
Now Pincher could barely skate at all, much less dance, pirouette on one leg, or hurtle round backwards; and, seeing Emmeline, he became rather nervous, and wished to seek safety in flight. But he had paid sixpence to come in, and could not very well demand his money back; so, with a pair of skates in his hand, he stood sheepishly by the edge of the rink watching the others. Emmeline spotted him the next time she came round, smiled cheerily over her shoulder, and said something to her companion, who shook his head. She was evidently in a good temper, and Martin smiled back at her.
The next time she drew near, it was more slowly. Checking her speed, she came gracefully to rest by the padded balustrade immediately opposite where Pincher stood. She was flushed with the exercise, and looked quite adorable. Parkin hovered in the background.
'Well,' she asked gaily, extending her hand, 'aren't you going to say, "How d' you do?" Mister Martin?'
'How d'ye do, miss?' said Pincher, shaking it, but half-suspecting she was about to make a fool of him.
'This is Mister Parkin,' Emmeline went on, presenting the spotty-faced one. 'Mister Parkin—Mister Martin of the Belligerent.'
''Ow do, Parkin?' remarked Pincher with a nod.
'Pleased to meet yer,' murmured the other, with a low bow and a lofty expression. 'What terrible weather we are 'avin' for the time of year, are we not?'
The ordinary seaman stared at him in astonishment; while Emmeline, unable to restrain herself, burst out into a little chuckle of amusement.