In another moment Robinette and the boy would be upon him, and he must be found deep in fictitious business. He cast one agonized glance at the mysteries of the toilet that surrounded him on every side, then clearing his throat, he said modestly but firmly, that he wanted to buy a pair of curling tongs for a lady.
“These are the thing if you wish a Marcel wave,” was the reply, “but just for an ordinary crimp we sell a good many of the plain ones.”
“Yes, thank you. They will do; the lady––my sister, also wished––”
“A little ‘addition,’ was it, sir?” she moved smilingly to a drawer. “A few pin curls are very easily adjusted, or would our guinea switch––”
At this moment the boy and Robinette entered the shop. Lavendar was paying for the curling tongs, and not a muscle of his face relaxed. “Oh, here you are. I have just finished my business,” he said, turning round, “I thought we might encounter one another somewhere!”
Robinette and Carnaby exchanged knowing glances of which Lavendar was perfectly conscious, but he stood by while Mrs. Loring bought her hairpins, and Carnaby endeavoured to persuade her to invest in a few “pin curls.” “Not an hour before it is absolutely necessary, Middy dear,” she said; “then I shall bear it as bravely as I can. Come now, carry the hairpins for me, and let me take Mr. Lavendar out of this shop, or he will be tempted to buy more than he needs.”
“Oh, no!” Lavendar remarked pointedly. “I have what I came for!”
“Don’t forget your parcel,” Carnaby exclaimed, darting after Lavendar as they went into the street. “You’ve left it on the counter.”