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Updated: June 1, 2025
In the uncertain light one could easily fancy soft eyes swimming in those wide blank sockets, and the ripe lips were curved by a dreamy smile, at once tender and disdainful. Leander Tweddle and Miss Ada Parkinson, however, stood before the statue in an unmoved, not to say critical, mood.
The luckless James had to undergo some amount of scolding from Miss Bella for his want of punctuality, a scolding which merely supplied an object to his grin; and during her remarks, Ada had ample time to rally Leander Tweddle upon his long neglect, and used it to the best advantage.
"There isn't a soul inside," protested Tweddle, with unnecessary warmth; "not a solitary soul! You wanted to talk with me. Suppose we take a turn round the square?" "No, no. I won't keep you out; I'll come in with you!" Inwardly wondering what his visitor wanted, Leander led him in and lit the gas in his hair-cutting saloon.
"Why, as we came along, there wasn't hardly a leaf on the trees in the squares; and yet only yesterday week, at the gardens, the trees hadn't begun to shed. Had they, Mr. Tweddle? "I'll never take you out again, if you don't hold that tongue," he whispered savagely. Mrs. Collum fixed her eyes on Leander, as he sat cowering on her right.
Apparently it was done, for he came out almost immediately, thrusting a small cardboard box into his pocket as he rejoined his friend. "Now we'd better take a cab up to Fenchurch Street," said Jauncy. "Can't keep those girls standing about on the platform." As they drove along, Tweddle observed, "I didn't understand that our party was to include the fair sect, James?" "Didn't you?
And even this gleam vanished as a sharp knocking was heard below; and, descending to open the door, he found his visitor to be Inspector Bilbow. "Evening, Tweddle," said the Inspector, quietly. "I've come to have another little talk with you." Leander thought he would play his part till it became quite hopeless. "Proud to see you, Mr. Inspector," he said.
But she cut him short with a little gesture of entreaty. "Oh, not here, please, Mr. Tweddle," she said; "tell me about it in the gardens!" "Very well," he said, relieved; "remind me when we get there in case I forget, you know." "Remind you!" cried Ada; "the idea, Mr. Tweddle! I certainly shan't do any such thing."
What further strictures this rash old gentleman was preparing to pass upon the statue will never be known now, for Tweddle already thought he could discern a growing resentment in her face, under so much candour.
"Tillie is blessing enough for me not but what I shall be glad to be on a pleasant footing with you, I'm sure, if you can bring yourself to it." Before Mrs. Collum could reply, Miss Louisa Tweddle made an opportune appearance, to the relief of Matilda, in whom her mother's attitude was causing some uneasiness.
"I know some one who has quite as small," said he softly. Ada instantly drew off one of the crimson gloves and held out her hand beside the statue's. It was a well-shaped hand, as she very well knew, but it was decidedly larger than the one with which she compared it. "I said so," she observed; "now are you satisfied, Mr. Tweddle?"
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