Presently we stopped in a large station, and the red-haired man disappeared. He was back in a few moments, looking a little sheepish, as one who is afraid of his reception.
“I’ve brought you a cup of tea,” he said—“please don’t mind. You look awfully tired, and you’ve a long way to go yet. I read the address on your suit-case.” He cast a glance towards the rack, and held out the cup meekly.
My training in etiquette had not covered this emergency, and I hesitated. But he was so boyish and friendly—just as Colin would have been—and so evidently afraid of being snubbed, that I couldn’t hurt him; and also I wanted the tea very badly. It was quite good tea, too, and the scone that accompanied it was a really superior one.
I felt much better when I had finished, and my fellow-traveller came back for my cup, which he presented to a porter, for the train was about to start.
“Girls are so various,” said he, sitting down opposite me, with his friendly smile. “Some would hate you to offer them tea, and some would hate you not to, and some would be just nice about it. I felt certain you belonged to the third lot! It’s such a beastly long way to Wootong, too: I’m going there myself, so I suppose that might be considered a sort of introduction. And you looked just about knocked-up. Know Wootong well?”
“I’ve never been there,” I said. “I’m going to a place called The Towers.”
“What!—the McNabs?” exclaimed my companion. “But how ripping!—I’m going there myself. I’m Dick Atherton; Harry McNab and I share rooms at Trinity. I don’t think I’ve met you there before, have I? No, of course, what an ass I am: you said it was your first visit.”
“I’m hardly a visitor,” I said. It wasn’t easy, but I thought it best to have things on a straight footing. “I’m . . .” It came to me suddenly that I hardly knew what I was. “I’m—a sort of governess, I suppose. I’m going up, just for the holidays, to help Mrs. McNab.”
“What a shame!” said Mr. Atherton promptly—apparently, before taking thought. He pulled himself up, reddening. “At least—you know what I mean. Those kids ought to have some one about six feet, and weighing quite twelve stone, to keep them in order. They’re outlaws. Anyway, I’m sure to see an awful lot of you, if you’ll let me. Won’t you tell me what to call you?”
I told him, and we chatted on cheerfully. He was the most transparent person possible, and though I am not considered astute—by Colin and Madge, who should know—it was quite easy to find out from him a good deal about my new post. I inferred that my appearance might be a shock to Mrs. McNab, whose previous assistants had been more of the type graphically depicted by Mr. Atherton—he referred to them simply as “the cats.” Also, the children seemed to be something of a handful. There were two, a boy and a girl, besides the brother at Trinity—and a grown-up sister. It was only when I angled for information on the subject of Mrs. McNab that my companion evaded the hook.