“TIME—DECORATOR”
The Major hurried downstairs and threw the front door open.
The men were still busy unloading the cart, and all kinds of queer things were being carried to the Major’s side door—curved black bars, straight black bars, round black balls, large numbers fastened one above the other—which Major C knew were time signatures—and big signboards with long names painted on them.
The Major coughed loudly. The men and boys were far too busy to notice him.
“May I ask” he began.
The unloading of the cart went on steadily.
“Would you kindly tell me” said the Major, trying again, and speaking more loudly.
He had made himself heard at last.
“The master will be here directly,” said a smart little black boy, who moved very quickly, and spoke very quickly.
“Excuse me,” said Major C, “but the master is here. I am the master, I am Major C.”
“That’s all right,” said the small boy, “we were to bring the things to Major C’s, and pile them up at his side door. It’s all right, boys,” he shouted to the others. “He says he is Major C, so this is the right house. You see, we couldn’t be quiet sure of the house,” he said, addressing Major C, “as you haven’t a door-plate; but we’ll soon put all that right for you.”
“Excuse me” began Major C. Then he looked up the road, and saw Minora walking towards the house with a very old-looking gentleman, whose hair was very white, and whose beard was very long. Minora hastened up the steps to the Major.
“I am so sorry I couldn’t get back before,” she said.
“Minora,” said the Major, “I think you ought to have told me you were thinking of getting your staircase decorated by this gentleman.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Minora, meekly.
“Never mind,” said the Major. “I will forgive you; but I should like to speak to the gentleman myself.”
“Of course,” said Minora, “but let me tell you first”
