"Rather! I'm tremendously keen on rags, ancient or modern. I'll be there!"
Eves bade the builder good-bye at the door of the hall, and the latter went up the street to his office. As soon as his back was turned, Eves hastened below to the furnace room.
"Pretty thirsty work, isn't it?" he said to the man. "I don't wonder you're not keen to be kept so long at it."
"'Tisn't that, sir," said the stoker. "The truth o't is I was going to take my girl to the cinema to-night. It begins at seven, and she'll be in a taking, 'cos they're showing some war pictures, and I'm in one of 'em, and she's mad on seeing me, though I tell her I ain't doing nothing, only looking down my nose at a blooming Hun prisoner."
"Naturally she wants to see you, and squeeze your hand, and—you know. I should myself. Well, I'll tell you what. I'll come about 6.45 and release you."
The man stared.
"I mean it, no kid," Eves went on. "I intended coming to the meeting, but there'll be nothing very interesting until half time, and the stoking will be finished by then."
"But you'll mess your clothes, sir, not to speak of your hands."
"Oh, no! I'll see to that. Besides, you know, we didn't fret ourselves about dirt in the trenches. That's all right, then, and look here—get your young woman a box of chocolates, a pound box—all one price, four shillings. She'll like your picture all the more."
He handed the man a couple of half-crowns, cut short his effusive thanks, and made his way back to the cottage.