The Three Graces were finishing also. Good old Nunkie wiped the perspiration from their foreheads with his big checked handkerchief, invited Clifton to come with Lily and choose the sleeve-links and suggested that they could have a chat at the restaurant.
“Would you like to, Lily?” asked Pa.
“Yes, Pa.”
“Very well, then.”
The girls would go back alone. Tom, having carried up the bikes, was told to run home and fetch Miss Lily’s new dress and boots, Mrs. Clifton’s brooch and big hat. And, half an hour later, Lily, who had crawled up to her dressing-room stiff-legged, exhausted, feeling sixty, came tripping down the stairs all freshly dressed, wearing the great hat of her mother, and a pair of creaking boots. She soon recovered when she was dressed out. She drew up her dainty figure, so as to be level with the imposing group of Pa, Nunkie and the Three Graces.
Lily, very proud of herself, spun out the pleasure of drawing on her gloves to go shopping with those big girls, who had had love stories. Then they discussed what restaurant.... Nunkie, long ago—“Zæo’s year at the Aquarium:—that doesn’t make me any younger, eh?”—had discovered a little German place....
Lily would have liked to propose the Horse Shoe, to walk in there with her big hat and creaking boots as though the place belonged to her. But they decided upon a “Lyons” in Wardour Street. At the table, it was touching to watch the attentions which the Three Graces lavished upon their Nunkie, the respect they showed him. Pa was not sorry that Lily should see that, but Lily took no notice at all: she just removed her gloves, held her knife and fork with the tips of her fingers, let Pa help her, thanked him with a pretty “’K you.” From the corner of her eye, she watched other groups, to pick up good manners. She seemed to have frequented smart restaurants all her life: beside her, Nunkie and the Three Graces, who cut their bread with their knives and made a noise when eating, looked like a family of small farmers on a visit to London town. Pa was greatly amused, enjoyed his daughter’s aristocratic ways, admired her refined air. When they went out, in obedience to a look from Lily, he bought her a bunch of violets, which he pinned to her bodice himself:
“Well, Lily, are you happy? Do you love your Pa? Tell me you love your Pa,” and he looked at her gently as if in regret at having been so harsh at practice.
“It’s for your good, my Lily, you’ll thank me one of these days. I’ll give you lovely dresses, I’ll cover you with diamonds!”
“Why not to-day?” asked Lily, with a comic pout.