“Thought so. Never say that Bo-peep isn’t thoughtful.—Ah, here you be, Tildy. You clear away—smart, my girl, and then whistle for a ’ansom. Do you hear me? A ’ansom, not a four-wheeler. Look as sharp as you can, my girl, and I’ll give you sixpence.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Tildy. She looked with admiring eyes at the pair who were so close to the matrimonial venture, and quickly removed all traces of the meal.
“Now then, Little-sing, go into your room and get dressed for your drive.”
Mrs. Howland did so. She put on an elegant sort of bonnet-hat which had been presented to her by Martin, a lace fichu over her shoulders, and a pair of long white gloves. She had also been presented with a white parasol by Martin. He thought that no one could look more beautiful than his ladylove when she reappeared in the drawing-room. 102
“The ’ansom’s at the door,” he said. “We’ll go now and start on our drive.”
Mrs. Howland rose, and Tildy agreed with Martin as to Mrs. Howland’s appearance when she stepped into that hansom. Tildy said she looked bride-like. Mrs. Ross remarked that as elegant women before now had become widows in no time. Tildy shuddered, and said that Mrs. Ross should not say things of that sort. Mrs. Ross replied that she invariably spoke the truth, and then returned to her dismal kitchen.
Meanwhile Martin and Mrs. Howland were driven swiftly in the direction of Hyde Park. London society people were fast going out of town, for it was very nearly the end of July; but still there were a few carriages about, and some fine horses, and some gaily dressed ladies and several smart-looking men. Martin provided a couple of chairs for himself and his future wife, and they sat for some little time enjoying the fresh air and looking on at the gay scene.
“It is wonderful,” said Martin, “what a sight of money is wasted in this sort of thing.”
“But they enjoy it, don’t they?” said Mrs. Howland.
“Yes, my pet,” he replied, “but not as you and me will enjoy Laburnum Villa. And now, Little-sing, can you attend to business?”