“And so have I. The best two girls that ever stepped. There’s Clara, who has learned up as much medicine as would give her the L.S.A., simply in order that she may sympathize with me in my work. But hullo, what is this coming along?”
“All drawing and the wind astern!” cried the Admiral. “Fourteen knots if it’s one. Why, by George, it is that woman!”
A rolling cloud of yellow dust had streamed round the curve of the road, and from the heart of it had emerged a high tandem tricycle flying along at a breakneck pace. In front sat Mrs. Westmacott clad in a heather tweed pea-jacket, a skirt which just passed her knees and a pair of thick gaiters of the same material. She had a great bundle of red papers under her arm, while Charles, who sat behind her clad in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, bore a similar roll protruding from either pocket. Even as they watched, the pair eased up, the lady sprang off, impaled one of her bills upon the garden railing of an empty house, and then jumping on to her seat again was about to hurry onwards when her nephew drew her attention to the two gentlemen upon the footpath.
“Oh, now, really I didn’t notice you,” said she, taking a few turns of the treadle and steering the machine across to them. “Is it not a beautiful morning?”
“Lovely,” answered the Doctor. “You seem to be very busy.”
“I am very busy.” She pointed to the colored paper which still fluttered from the railing. “We have been pushing our propaganda, you see. Charles and I have been at it since seven o’clock. It is about our meeting. I wish it to be a great success. See!” She smoothed out one of the bills, and the Doctor read his own name in great black letters across the bottom.
“We don’t forget our chairman, you see. Everybody is coming. Those two dear little old maids opposite, the Williamses, held out for some time; but I have their promise now. Admiral, I am sure that you wish us well.”
“Hum! I wish you no harm, ma’am.”
“You will come on the platform?”
“I’ll be—- No, I don’t think I can do that.”
“To our meeting, then?”
“No, ma’am; I don’t go out after dinner.”
“Oh yes, you will come. I will call in if I may, and chat it over with you when you come home. We have not breakfasted yet. Goodbye!” There was a whir of wheels, and the yellow cloud rolled away down the road again. By some legerdemain the Admiral found that he was clutching in his right hand one of the obnoxious bills. He crumpled it up, and threw it into the roadway.
“I’ll be hanged if I go, Walker,” said he, as be resumed his walk. “I’ve never been hustled into doing a thing yet, whether by woman or man.”
“I am not a betting man,” answered the Doctor, “but I rather think that the odds are in favor of your going.”
The Admiral had hardly got home, and had just seated himself in his dining-room, when the attack upon him was renewed. He was slowly and lovingly unfolding the Times preparatory to the long read which led up to luncheon, and had even got so far as to fasten his golden pince-nez on to his thin, high-bridged nose, when he heard a crunching of gravel, and, looking over the top of his paper, saw Mrs. Westmacott coming up the garden walk. She was still dressed in the singular costume which offended the sailor’s old-fashioned notions of propriety, but he could not deny, as he looked at her, that she was a very fine woman. In many climes he had looked upon women of all shades and ages, but never upon a more clear-cut, handsome face, nor a more erect, supple, and womanly figure. He ceased to glower as he gazed upon her, and the frown smoothed away from his rugged brow.
“May I come in?” said she, framing herself in the open window, with a background of green sward and blue sky. “I feel like an invader deep in an enemy’s country.”