“You don’t think he’s jealous?” she said, as he continued.
“Jealous of what?” I asked.
“Why, of you and me,” she said.
She was pressing my hand again and endeavouring to draw closer to me.
“Well, I’m rather afraid,” I said, “that he may be.”
“You see,” said Miss Moonbeam, “if I’m to be rescued by anybody, I should so like it to be by you.”
“Dear Mary,” I said, “and so it shall, at whatever cost, at whatever sacrifice.”
“Dear Augustus,” she said. “May I call you Augustus? It sounds so ungrateful to say Mr. Carp.”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “I can quite understand it. But I would rather you suppressed the familiarity in public.”
Then Ezekiel concluded, and after some words from myself, a special meeting of the Union was arranged, at which all our listeners, including Miss Moonbeam, solemnly engaged themselves to be present. It was to take place, we agreed, on the following Sunday week, at the Porter Street Drill Hall in Camberwell, and at Miss Moonbeam’s suggestion, Mr. Chrysostom Lorton was to be invited to say a few words.