Philip and Miss Jennings resumed business faces next morning; and although they subsequently indulged in other jaunts, one of which—a Saturday-afternoon excursion to Earl's Court—included sister May, no cloud of sentimentality ever arose between them to obscure the simple clarity of their relations. Miss Jennings was much too matter-of-fact a young person to cherish any romantic yearnings after her employer. She was not of the breed which battens upon that inexpensive brand of literature which converts kitchenmaids into duchesses. She recognised Philip for what he was—a very kind, rather shy, and entirely trustworthy gentleman—and accepted such attentions as he offered her with freedom and confidence. Nor did Miss Jennings herself, beyond arousing in him a dim realisation of the fact that the elixir of life is not exclusively composed of petrol, make any direct impression upon Philip's peace of mind. At present his heart was too full of applied mechanics to have room for tenderer preoccupations—a very fortunate condition for a heart to be in when it belongs to a young man who has yet to establish a position for himself.
So life in the London offices went on for two years. It contained a great deal of hard work and a great deal of responsibility and a great deal of drudgery; but it had its compensations. Philip still played Rugby football in the winter and suffered upon a sliding-seat for the honour of the Thames Rowing Club in the summer. There were visits to Cheltenham to see Uncle Joseph, and to Red Gables to see the Mablethorpes. There was the ever-enthralling pageant of London itself. And there was the rapturous day upon which a high official of the Company arrived upon a visitation and announced, after compliments, that the merits of the Meldrum Automatic Lubricator (recently patented) had so favourably impressed the directors that they had decided to adopt the same as the standard pattern upon all the Company's cars. Would Mr. Meldrum enter into a further agreement with the directors to give them the first refusal of any further inventions of his? Those were days.
Then, finally, with a hilarious splash, came Timothy.
He arrived one morning to take possession of a six-cylinder Britannia touring-car which had just been completed to his order—or rather, to the order of an indulgent parent. He was a hare-brained but entirely charming youth of twenty-two, and Philip, who encountered far too few of his own caste in those days, hailed him as a godsend. Each happened to be wearing an Old Studleian tie, so common ground was established at once.
Philip enquired after Mr. Brett, and learned that that "septic blighter" (Timothy's description) had retired from the position of Housemaster and had been relegated to a post of comparative harmlessness; but the old House was going strong.
All this time they were examining the new car. It soon became apparent that the technical knowledge of Mr. Rendle (Timothy) was not of a far-reaching nature, but his anxiety to improve it was so genuine that Philip sent to the workshop for a mechanic to come and lay bare various portions of the car's anatomy. Presently that fire-eating revolutionary, Mr. Brand, appeared.
"If you are not in a hurry," said Philip to him, "we will take the top off the cylinders, and then I can give you a demonstration."
No, Mr. Rendle was in no hurry. He was a young man of leisure, it appeared.
"Only too glad to spend such a profitable morning," he said. "Usually in bed at this time of day."
Mr. Brand, whose views upon the subject of the idle rich were of a decided nature, looked up from a contest with a refractory nut, and regarded Timothy severely. Then, returning to his task, and having exposed the internal secrets of the engine, he plunged into an elaborate lecture, in his most oppressive and industrious-apprentice manner, upon big-ends and timing-gears. Philip did not interrupt. Mr. Brand was fond of the sound of his own voice, and was obviously enjoying his present unique opportunity of laying down the law to a wealthy and ignorant member of the despised upper classes. He employed all the long words he could think of. Timothy positively gaped with admiration.