The evening was fine and the air, to one who had been at work indoors all
day, delightful. Miss Vickers walked briskly along with the smile of a
person who has solved a difficult problem, but as she drew near the Horse
and Groom, a hostelry of retiring habits, standing well back from the
road, the smile faded and she stood face to face with the stern realities
of life.
[Illustration: "She stood face to face with the stern realities of
life."]
A few yards from the side-door Mr. Vickers stood smoking a contemplative
pipe; the side-door itself had just closed behind a tall man in
corduroys, who bore in his right hand a large mug made of pewter.
"Ho!" said Selina, "so this is how you go on the moment my back is
turned, is it?"
"What d'ye mean?" demanded Mr. Vickers, blustering.
"You know what I mean," said his daughter, "standing outside and sending
Bill Russell in to get you beer. That's what I mean."
Mr. Vickers turned, and with a little dramatic start intimated that he
had caught sight of Mr. Russell for the first time that evening. Mr.
Russell himself sought to improve the occasion.
"Wish I may die--" he began, solemnly.
"Like a policeman," continued Selina, regarding her father indignantly.
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