He shut the piano and swung the revolving stool. “Well, the instrument’s jolly good and I hope it will soon be yours.”
“The company stipulates for punctual payments,” Blake remarked.
“If you can stand for my bringing my fiddle and Mabel will play, I’ll meet the next installment. I’ve got some fresh music, but my landlady’s restive and I imagine she means to be firm.”
“Practise when you like,” said Mabel. “You have talent, Kit, and I think you know our house is yours.”
“I know you are very kind, and Tom’s a first-class sort. When I joined up at the yard I was raw and trustful, but he saw me through the boiler shop and steered me past some awkward pitfalls. At the yard, he’s old Tom and famous for his staunchness and soberness. Then when he married I got another friend and now your house is home. Well, I hope your birthdays will be happy and numerous. Your faithful servant, ma’am!”
Blake’s look was rather embarrassed, but Mabel’s smile was frank and kind. She trusted her husband and Tom was altogether her lover. Kit admitted he had not used much reserve, but Mabel knew his sincerity, and when he declared he was her servant he did not boast. He owed his friends much and his habit was to pay his debts. Then Mabel turned her head, as if she listened, and got up.
“I haven’t yet given you coffee, and I believe the stove is out. Have you a penny, Tom?”
“Perhaps it’s strange, but I have two shillings, and I don’t know a stove that cooks like yours,” said Kit. “To-night’s a festival. Let’s be generous!”
“You don’t keep house,” Mabel rejoined. “So long as the stove is just, I’m content, but sometimes I doubt.”
She took the penny, and when she went off Blake pulled out his wallet.