"Right. And you might find out what other people are doing, the people you call on. And—er—if you should be left alone in the drawing-room a moment ... and the coal-box is at all adjacent.... You'll have your muff with you, you see, and——Well, I leave that to you. Do what you can."
I had a good day at the office and have never been so loth to leave. I always felt I should get to like my work some time. I arrived home again about six. Celia was a trifle later, and I met her on the mat as she came in.
"Any luck?" I asked eagerly, feeling in her muff. "Dash it, Celia, there are nothing but hands here. Do you mean to say you didn't pick up anything at all?"
"Only information," she said, leading the way into the drawing-room. "Hallo, what's this? A fire!"
"A small involuntary contribution from the office. I brought it home under my hat. Well, what's the news?"
"That if we want any coal we shall have to fetch it ourselves. And we can get it in small amounts from greengrocers. Why greengrocers, I don't know."
"I suppose they have to have fires to force the cabbages. But what about the striking coal-porters? If you do their job, won't they picket you or pick-axe you or something?"
"Oh, of course, I should hate to go alone. But I shall be all right if you come with me."
Celia's faith in me is very touching. I am not quite so confident about myself. No doubt I could protect her easily against five or six great brawny hulking porters ... armed with coal-hammers ... but I am seriously doubtful whether a dozen or so, aided with a little luck, mightn't get the better of me.
"Don't let us be rash," I said thoughtfully. "Don't let us infuriate them."