They looked Sir Benjamin up in “Who’s Who,” and then somebody suggested that their party wasn’t complete without Edgar Strong. “I’ll telephone him,” said Walter; “perhaps he’ll be back by this.”—The telephone was in the hall, and Walter went out. Dickie told Laura how well Walter was looking. Laura replied, Yes, he was very well indeed; except for a slight cold, which anybody was lucky to escape in May, he had never been better; which was wonderful, considering the work he got through.—Then Walter returned. Strong had not yet come in, but his typist had said he’d be back soon.—“Didn’t know it ran to a typist,” Walter remarked, helping himself to more tea.
“It doesn’t,” Mr. Wilkinson grunted.
“Girl’s voice, anyway.... I say, I wonder how old Prang’s getting on!”
“I wonder!”
“He’s gone back, hasn’t he?” Dickie asked.
“Oh, a couple of months ago. Didn’t Strong give him the push, Wilkie?”
“Don’t suppose Strong ever did anything so vigorous,” Mr. Wilkinson growled. “The only strong thing about Strong’s his name. He’s simply ruined that paper.”
“I agree that it was at its best when Prang was doing the Indian notes.”
“Oh, Prang knew what he wanted. Prang’s all right in his way. But I tell you India’s too far away. We want something at our own doors, and somebody made an example of that somebody knows. Now if Pratt had only been guided by me——”
“Hallo, here’s Britomart Belchamber.—Why doesn’t Amory come down, Brit? She’s in, isn’t she?”