Another thing—they are always courteous listeners, and generally full of good stories themselves, yet have the most delicate appreciation of other people’s anecdotes. You can nearly always tell a member of a fishing family by this rare and pleasing trait.
Next morning the jokey man called at the hotel and asked for Basil at the door. He wouldn’t come in, and when Basil, greatly excited, appeared, only waited to say hastily: “If you like to bring your sister to-night, I think I can promise you that it will be all right.” Then fled before Basil could thank him, and was soon pounding up the steep hill that ends abruptly at the hotel door, as though he were training for a mountaineering race.
Basil tore back into their sitting-room to lay the case before his grandfather, who, for once, was lunching in the hotel.
“He promised, you know,” he concluded jubilantly, “so she can come, can’t she?”
Grandfather pulled his moustache and laughed. Then Viola came and laid her fresh soft cheek against his, murmuring pleadingly: “Darling, it would be so lovely,” till he pinched Viola’s cheek and made stipulations about heavy cloaks, and the children knew the day was won.
And the end of it all was that, at half-past eight that evening, grandfather, Basil and Viola were seated on three chairs in the very middle of the road that ran past the Alfresco Entertainers’ stage; but as the road ends abruptly in a precipitous rock some thirty yards further along, there is no fear of being run over by traffic.
What an evening of delight that was! How Basil and Viola laughed, and how pleased was grandfather! Another thing is quite certain—that the Alfresco Entertainers in no way lost by the alterations they had made in their programme; the rest of the audience seemed as pleased as Basil and Viola, and no one appeared to miss the “giddy little girl in the big black hat” the least little bit in the world.
“Really, it’s vastly civil of Mr. Thingummy,” said grandfather on their way home.
Grandfather and Harnet had gone fishing for the whole day. Mademoiselle had departed, only Polly was left in charge, and she had so bad a headache—she put it down to the close, cloudy weather—that she was fain to go and lie down directly she had waited upon Basil and Viola at their lunch, having given the children permission to go for a walk along the beach.