“He—he is looking for a room,” said Hope hurriedly, painfully aware that she was blushing frantically.
“I shall be very glad to show you what we have,” said Mrs. Hazard with a smile. “Will you come in?”
“Er—thank you.” Mr. Hanks placed his book, open and face down, on the chair, put his hat carefully on top of it and followed. “I am not very particular, Mrs.—er—Mrs. Hazel; plenty of light is almost my sole requirement. Unfortunately, my eyesight—”
They passed out of hearing, leaving Hope divided between confusion and laughter. How had she ever been so stupid as to call him Nancy? The gate slammed and Jim came up the walk, laden with bundles and looking very warm.
“Oh, Jim,” she cried softly. “He came and I called him Mr. Nancy Hanks! Wasn’t that simply awful?”
“Who came? Mr. Hanks? Came here? What for?”
“For a room. Just after you went. I was sitting here—”
“Did he take it?” asked Jim eagerly.
“I don’t know. He’s still up there. Isn’t he the funniest, foolishest old dear of a man, Jim? He couldn’t remember Lady’s name, nor Mr. Gordon’s—”
“S-sh, they’re coming down,” warned Jim. The instructor, followed by Mrs. Hazard, came out of the door.