‘What a pretty voluntary you played us out with! Was it an impromptu?’
‘Partly; a few variations of an old hymn.’ Then gliding up to him, she whispered,—‘‘King of the Cannibal Islands,’ didn’t you recognise it?’
‘Haw! haw! haw!’ he roared, with a slap on his thigh. ‘Dash my wig, Miss Newman, that’s good, by Jove!’
‘Let me introduce you to my friend Rose Dimpleton, Mr Lockstable,’ said Lesbia, to create a diversion. ‘She is fond of music.’
The new acquaintances bowed, but felt a little embarrassed what to say to each other, so, as soon as politeness allowed, Mr Lockstable again addressed Lesbia,—
‘Well, and how’s the bicycle? You’ve not been out on it to-day, I see,’ observing that Lesbia was not in knicker costume, but dressed in a frock of rich material and peculiar cut, with a hat to match.
‘No,’ said she, ‘I’m not got up for it to-day; in fact, I don’t ride on Sundays just about here. Besides, my machine is laid up for the moment; some grit or rust has got into the bearings, and I don’t quite know how to take them out; I should like to see a machinist, and I’m afraid there’s hardly one in Frogmore; yet there should be, because the bicycling men—’
‘Just so, there’s a man they employ, a very clever one said to be; ironmonger and blacksmith combined, and good at repairing sewing-machines, bicycles, and what not. He’s not been there long,—came last summer, I think.’
‘Indeed! pray what’s his address?’
‘He lives in the High Street, third or fourth corner on the right after the railway bridge, and his name’s eh—ah—um—let me see—stupid I am—what the deuce is the fellow’s name?’ And Mr Lockstable lapsed into silence and study.
The vicar, who had ceased talking to another acquaintance
