"May I come and help you?" he asked.
"Oh, you can come if you like," she said; and added as a pure concession to formality, "It's awf'ly kind of you."
So they all proceeded through the fog.
"It's such a nuisance everything being shut to-day," the first girl went on. "That's why we want Gandy's—they say Gandy's live there, and might oblige us. We can ring 'em up."
"Fruit?" he inquired.
"No," she said; "flowers—violets. We want some for the concert to-night. Are you going?"
"Certainly I am," said Conrad. "What concert? I haven't heard about it?"
"Oh well, it was only settled this morning. We're giving a concert at the Victoria Hall—The Little Miss Kiss-and-Tell Company. It's to help us all. Mr. Quisby—our manager—only let me know just now. I'm going to sing a 'flower-song,' and I want some 'button-holes' to throw among the Audience; I can't do the song without."
"Throw one to me," said Conrad.
"I will," she promised. "We ought to get some people in, as it's bank holiday, don't you think so? And if the show 'goes,' we can have the hall again to-morrow. The tickets are only sixpence and a shilling. Did you see us on the pier?"