“You had better take Hardy's arm, I think,” said Nugent, with affected solicitude.
“It's my breath,” explained Mrs. Kybird, turning to the fuming young man by her side. “I can 'ardly get along for it—I'm much obliged to you, I'm sure.”
Mr. Hardy, with a vain attempt to catch Jack Nugent's eye, resigned himself to his fate, and with his fair burden on his arm walked with painful slowness towards Equator Lodge. A ribald voice from the other side of the road, addressing his companion as “Mother Kybird,” told her not to hug the man, and a small boy whom they met loudly asseverated his firm intention of going straight off to tell Mr. Kybird.
By the time they reached the house Mr. Hardy entertained views on homicide which would have appeared impossible to him half an hour before. He flushed crimson as he saw the astonished face of Kate Nugent at the window, and, pausing at the gate to wait for the others, discovered that they had disappeared. A rooted dislike to scenes of any kind, together with a keen eye for the ludicrous, had prompted Jack Nugent to suggest a pleasant stroll to Amelia and put in an appearance later on.
“We won't wait for 'im,” said Mrs. Kybird, with decision; “if I don't get a sit down soon I shall drop.”
Still clinging to the reluctant Hardy she walked up the path; farther back in the darkness of the room the unfortunate young gentleman saw the faces of Dr. Murchison and Mrs. Kingdom.
“And 'ow are you, Bella?” inquired Mrs. Kybird with kindly condescension. “Is Mrs. Kingdom at 'ome?”