When he came down again, Easton had not yet arrived.
“Everything’s ready, except just to make the tea,” said Ruth, who was evidently annoyed at the continued absence of Easton, “so you may as well have yours now.”
“I’m in no hurry. I’ll wait a little and see if he comes. He’s sure to be here soon.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I shall be glad if you will wait,” said Ruth, “because it will save me making two lots of tea.”
They waited for about half an hour, talking at intervals in a constrained, awkward way about trivial subjects. Then as Easton did not come, Ruth decided to serve Slyme without waiting any longer. With this intention she laid the baby in its cot, but the child resented this arrangement and began to cry, so she had to hold him under her left arm while she made the tea. Seeing her in this predicament, Slyme exclaimed, holding out his hands:
“Here, let me hold him while you do that.”
“Will you?” said Ruth, who, in spite of her instinctive dislike of the man, could not help feeling gratified with this attention. “Well, mind you don’t let him fall.”
But the instant Slyme took hold of the child it began to cry even louder than it did when it was put into the cradle.
“He’s always like that with strangers,” apologized Ruth as she took him back again.
“Wait a minute,” said Slyme, “I’ve got something upstairs in my pocket that will keep him quiet. I’d forgotten all about it.”