V
THE COMIC SPIRIT
Pausing at the foot of the stoop, Miss Lessing looked up at the twoyoung men and smiled.
"Good-evening," she said with a pretty nod for P. Sybarite; and, withits fellow for George, "Good-evening, Mr. Bross," she added.
Having acknowledged this salutation with that quaint courtesy whichsomehow seemed to fit him like a garment, P. Sybarite smiled strangelyat the shipping clerk.
The latter mumbled something incoherent, glanced wildly toward theyoung woman, and spluttered explosively; all with a blush so deep thatits effect was apoplectic.
Alarmed by this exhibition, Miss Lessing questioned P. Sybarite withher lifted brows and puzzled eyes.
"George is a little bit excited," he apologised. "Every so often hebecomes obsessed with mad desire to impose upon some simple andcredulous nature like mine. And failure always unbalances him. Hebecomes excitable--ah--irrational--"
With an inarticulate snort, Mr. Bross turned and fled into the house.
Confusion possessed him, and with it rage: stumbling blindly on thefirst flight of steps, he clawed the atmosphere with fingers thatitched for vengeance.
"I'll get even!" he muttered savagely--"I'll get hunk with that boobif it's the last act of my life!"
Fortunately, the hall was gloomy and at that moment deserted.
On the first landing he checked, clutched the banisters for support,and endeavoured to compose himself--but with less success than herealised.
It was with a suggestion of stealth that he ascended the secondflight--with an enforced deliberateness and caution that were wasted.For as he reached the top, the door of the back hall-bedroom openedgently for the space of three inches. Through this aperture werevisible a pair of bright eyes, with the curve of a plump and prettycheek, and an adorable bare arm and shoulder.
"That you, George?" Violet Prim demanded with vivacity.
Reluctantly he stopped and in a throaty monosyllable admitted hisidentity.
"Well, how'd it go off?"
"Fine!"
"He fell for it?"
"All over himself. Honest, Vi, it was a scream to watch his eyes pop.You could've clubbed 'em outa his bean without touchin' his beak. I'most died."
Miss Prim giggled appreciatively.
"You're a wonder, George," she applauded. "It takes you to think 'emout."
"Ah, I don't know," returned her admirer with becoming modesty.
"He's gone on her, all right, ain't he?"
"Crazy about her!"
"Think he'll make a play for her now?"
George demurred. Downright lying was all very well; he could managethat with passable craft, especially when, as in this instance,detection would be difficult; but prophecy was a little out of hisline. Though with misgivings, he resorted to unvarnished truth:
"You never can tell about P.S. He's a queer little gink."
Footsteps became audible on the stairs below.
"Well, so long. See you at dinner," George added in haste.
"George!"
"Well?" he asked, delaying with ill grace.
"What makes you sound so funny?"
"Laughin'!" protested George convincingly.
With determination and a heavy tread he went on to his room.