“Nice lot of incompetents they seem to have about the house!” he commented in a scathing tone. “I wonder they don’t provide a bath-chair and a man to push you to the centre, and be done with it. As if any person of ordinary intelligence couldn’t find his way through a thing about the size of a washing-green.”
“Ever been in a maze before?” Vera inquired.
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Ah, then kindly unhook the horn and give it to me. I’m not proud.”
Howard took the horn from its place and handed it over.
“What’s the good of one horn, since we’re not going in together?”
Vera looked him over coldly.
“When I get lost, I shall blow the horn and get someone to show me the way out. When you get lost, you’ll be able to practise breathing exercise in yelling for help. You see, you’ve got a much louder and harsher voice than I have. You’ll be all right, I’m sure. But if you think you can’t come up to the lung-power needed, you might go round to the next entrance and see if there isn’t a horn there. I should think there’s sure to be one at each entrance.”
Howard was put on his mettle.
“Oh, I shan’t get lost. Don’t fret too much about me. Now then, who’s for the centre?”