“Mr. Carmagee wants to know whether the doctor and the missus are going to Marley Down this afternoon?”
“Yes, straight away. I’m waiting for ’em to finish tea.”
“You’re to step over to Mr. Carmagee’s garden door at once.”
“Thank you. And who’s to mind the car?”
“It won’t catch cold,” and the maid showed her dimples for a bachelor’s benefit.
The chauffeur crossed the road with her, and was met at the green gate in the garden by Mr. Porteus himself. A hamper lay on the gravel-path at the lawyer’s feet, with straw protruding from under the lid. Mr. Carmagee twinkled, and gave the man a shilling.
“Stow this in the car, Gage; you’ve room, I suppose.”
“Plenty, sir.”
“Don’t say anything about it to your master. Just a little surprise, a good liver-tonic, Gage—see?”
The man grinned, touched his cap, and, picking up the hamper, recrossed the street. He packed Mr. Carmagee’s offering away with the light luggage at the back of the car, and after grimacing at the maid, who was still watching him from the garden door, busied himself with polishing the lamps.