They felt a little safer when a brougham dashed up to the house and carried off Fraser and his supporter, and safer still when his father appeared with Poppy Tyrell on his arm, blushing sweetly and throwing a glance in their direction, which was like to have led to a quarrel until Tommy created a diversion by stating that it was intended for him.
By the time Flower arrived the road was clear, and the house had lapsed into its accustomed quiet.
An old seafaring man, whose interest in weddings had ceased three days after his own, indicated the house with the stem of his pipe. It was an old house with a broad step and a wide-open door, and on the step a small servant, in a huge cap with her hands clasped together, stood gazing excitedly up the road.
“Cap’n Fraser live here?” enquired Flower, after a cautious glance at the windows.
“Yes, sir,” said the small servant; “he’s getting married at this very instant.”
“You’ll be married one of these days if you’re a good girl,” said Flower, who was in excellent humour.
The small girl forgot her cap and gave her head a toss. Then she regarded him thoughtfully, and after adjusting the cap, smoothed down her apron and said, “she was in no hurry; she never took any notice of them.”
Flower looked round and pondered. He was anxious, if possible, to see Fraser and catch the first train back.
“Cap’n Fraser was in good spirits, I suppose?” he said, cautiously.
“Very good spirits,” admitted the small servant, “but nervous.”