“What a silly you are!” laughed Jenny. “He just came up and said good-evening, and Annie said good-evening, and then he began to talk. He seems to have lots of money. He took us to a concert last night, to the best places. It was nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“But, my dear child, you can’t go about with people you don’t know.”
“You must let Annie enjoy herself, and he’s a very respectable young fellow, isn’t he? You see, living at home, she hasn’t the opportunity to get to know men that I had. And he’s quite a gentleman.”
“Is he? I should have thought him a most awful bounder.”
“You’re so particular,” said Jenny. “I don’t see anything wrong in him.”
Arriving at the lodging-house, Annie, engaged in lively conversation with her new acquaintance, stopped till the others came up. She resembled Jenny as much as it was possible for a somewhat plain woman to resemble a beautiful. She had the same graceful figure, but her hair, arranged with needless elaboration, was colourless, and her complexion had not the mellow delicacy which distinguished her elder.
“Jenny,” she cried, “he won’t come in to tea because he says you want to be alone with your hubby. Tell him it’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right,” said Jenny. “You come in and take a cup of tea with us, and then we’ll all go on the front.”
He was evidently a facetious person, for while Basil washed he heard the two women in the adjoining room shout with uproarious merriment. Presently Jenny called out that tea was ready, and somewhat against his will, he was forced to go in. His wife, much better in health, talking and laughing loudly, was in high spirits; and the three had evidently enjoyed thoroughly the last two weeks, for they were full of remembered jokes. Basil, annoyed by the stranger’s intrusion, sought not to join in the conversation, but sat silently, and after a while took up a newspaper. Annie gave him an angry glance, and Mr. Higgins looked once or twice uncertainly, but then went on with his rapid string of anecdote. Perhaps he also had cause for irritation, since his best stories were heard by Basil with all the appearance of profound boredom.
“Well, who says a stroll on the parade?” he cried at last.