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"Tell her to go away." I did. Then I could hear a curious pattering upon the door, almost like some one feeling for the handle in the dark, and Pyecraft's familiar grunts. "It's all right," I said, "she's gone." But for a long time the door didn't open. I heard the key turn. Then Pyecraft's voice said, "Come in." I turned the handle and opened the door. Naturally I expected to see Pyecraft.
"He shouldn't have tried it, anyhow," I said to myself. "A man who eats like a pig ought to look like a pig." An obviously worthy woman, with an anxious face and a carelessly placed cap, came and surveyed me through the lattice. I gave my name and she let me in in a dubious fashion. "Well?" said I, as we stood together inside Pyecraft's piece of the landing.
There was nothing for it then but to go on, taking care to get back in time to take the photographs to Pyecraft's before the shop closed. There hadn't been very much time, but Barbara said she could just do it if she made a dash, and it was the dash she made that precipitated her into the scene of Mr. Waddington's affair. Ralph waited for her at the white gate.
Pyecraft almost danced with excitement. "Keep that look on your face, sir, half a moment.... Now, Bateman." A click. "That's over, thank goodness," said Mr. Waddington, reluctant victim of Pyecraft's and Barbara's importunity. After that Mr. Pyecraft and his man were driven about the country taking photographs. In one of them Mr.
The handbills and posters had been out for the last week. Their headlines were very delightful to the eye with their enormous capitals staring at you in Pyecraft's royal blue print. Only one thing threatened Mr. Waddington's intense enjoyment of his meeting: his son Horace would be there.
"He shouldn't have tried it, anyhow," I said to myself. "A man who eats like a pig ought to look like a pig." An obviously worthy woman, with an anxious face and a carelessly placed cap, came and surveyed me through the lattice. I gave my name and she let me in in a dubious fashion. "Well?" said I, as we stood together inside Pyecraft's piece of the landing.
Meanwhile, if the book was to be ready for publication in the spring, the photographs would have to be taken at once, before the light and the leaves were gone. So Pyecraft and Pyecraft's man came with their best camera, and photographed and photographed, as long as the fine weather lasted.
"Tell her to go away." I did. Then I could hear a curious pattering upon the door, almost like some one feeling for the handle in the dark, and Pyecraft's familiar grunts. "It's all right," I said, "she's gone." But for a long time the door didn't open. I heard the key turn. Then Pyecraft's voice said, "Come in." I turned the handle and opened the door. Naturally I expected to see Pyecraft.
Formalyn!" bawled a page-boy under my nose, and I took the telegram and opened it at once. "For Heaven's sake come. Pyecraft." "H'm," said I, and to tell the truth I was so pleased at the rehabilitation of my great-grandmother's reputation this evidently promised that I made a most excellent lunch. I got Pyecraft's address from the hall porter.
He wanted to insure its being printed without delay, and to arrange for the posters and handbills; he also wanted to see the impression it would make on Pyecraft and on the young lady in Pyecraft's shop. He liked to think of the stir in the composing room when it was handed in, and of the importance he was conferring on Pyecraft.
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