Bones in London

"What do you say to a day in the country? Suppose you asked Miss

Vera – "

"Miss Vera Sackwell," replied Hamilton a little haughtily, "if she isthe lady you mean, is certainly a friend of mine, but I have no controlover her movements. And let me tell you, Bones, that you annoy mewhen – "

"Hoity, toity!" said Bones. "Heaven bless my heart and soul! Can'tyou trust your old Bones? Why practise this deception, old thing? Isuppose," he went on reflectively, ignoring the approaching apoplexy ofhis partner, "I suppose I'm one of the most confided-in persons inLondon. A gay old father confessor, Ham, lad. Everybody tells metheir troubles. Why, the lift-girl told me this morning that she'd hadmeasles twice! Now, out with it, Ham!"

If Hamilton had any tender feeling for Miss Vera Sackwell, he was notdisposed to unburden himself at that moment. In some mysteriousfashion Bones, for the first time in his life, had succeeded inreducing him to incoherence.

"You're an ass, Bones!" he said angrily and hotly. "You're not only anass, but an indelicate ass! Just oblige me by shutting up."

Bones closed his eyes, smiled, and put out his hand.

"Whatever doubts I had, dear old Ham," he murmured, "are dispelled.

Congratulations!"

That night Hamilton dined with a fair lady. She was fair literally andfiguratively, and as he addressed her as Vera, it was probably hername. In the course of the dinner he mentioned Bones and hissuggestion. He did not tell all that Bones had said.

The suggestion of a day's motoring was not received unfavourably.

"But he can't drive," wailed Hamilton. "He's only just learnt."

"I want to meet Bones," said the girl, "and I think it a most excellentopportunity."

"But, my dear, suppose the beggar upsets us in a ditch? I really can'trisk your life."

"Tell Bones that I accept," she said decisively, and that ended thematter.

The next morning Hamilton broke the news.

"Miss Sackwell thanks you for your invitation, Bones."

"And accepts, of course?" said Bones complacently. "Jolly old Vera."

"And I say, old man," said Hamilton severely, "will you be kind enoughto remember not to call this lady Vera until she asks you to?"

"Don't be peevish, old boy, don't be jealous, dear old thing.

Brother-officer and all that. Believe me, you can trust your old

Bones."

"I'd rather trust the lady's good taste," said Hamilton with someacerbity. "But won't it be a bit lonely for you, Bones?"

"But what do you mean, my Othello?"

"I mean three is a pretty rotten sort of party," said Hamilton.

"Couldn't you dig up somebody to go along and make the fourth?"

Bones coughed and was immensely embarrassed.

"Well, dear old athlete," he said unnecessarily loudly, "I was thinkingof asking my – er – "

"Your – er – what? I gather it's an er," said Hamilton seriously, "butwhich er?"

"My old typewriter, frivolous one," said Bones truculently. "Anyobjection?"

"Of course not," said Hamilton calmly. "Miss Whitland is a mostcharming girl, and Vera will be delighted to meet her."

Bones choked his gratitude and wrung the other's hand for fully twominutes.

He spent the rest of the week in displaying to Hamilton the frankambitions of his mind toward Miss Marguerite Whitland. Whenever he hadnothing to do – which seemed most of the day – he strolled across toHamilton's desk and discoursed upon the proper respect which allright-thinking young officers have for old typewriters. By the end ofthe week Hamilton had the confused impression that the very pretty girlwho ministered to the literary needs of his partner, combined thequalities of a maiden aunt with the virtues of a grandmother, and thatBones experienced no other emotion than one of reverential wonder, tinctured with complete indifference.

On the sixty-fourth lecture Hamilton struck.

"Of course, dear old thing," Bones was saying, "to a jolly old brigandlike you, who dashes madly down from his mountain lair and takes thefirst engaging young person who meets his eye – "

Hamilton protested vigorously, but Bones silenced him with a lordlygesture.

"I say, to a jolly old rascal like you it may seem – what is the word?"

"'Inexplicable,' I suppose, is the word you are after," said Hamilton.

"That's the fellow; you took it out of my mouth," said Bones. "Itsounds inexplicable that I can be interested in a platonic, fatherlykind of way in the future of a lovely old typewriter."

"It's not inexplicable at all," said Hamilton bluntly. "You're in lovewith the girl."

"Good gracious Heavens!" gasped Bones, horrified. "Ham, my dear oldboy. Dicky Orum, Dicky Orum, old thing!"

Sunday morning brought together four solemn people, two of whom weremen, who felt extremely awkward and showed it, and two of whom behavedas though they had known one another all their lives.

Bones, who stood alternately on his various legs, was frankly astoundedthat the meeting had passed off without any sensational happening. Itwas an astonishment shared by thousands of men in similarcircumstances. A word of admiration for the car from Vera melted himto a condition of hysterical gratitude.

"It's not a bad old 'bus, dear old – Miss Vera," he said, and tut-tuttedaudibly under his breath at his error. "Not a bad old 'bus at all, dear old – young friend. Now I'll show you the gem of the collection."

"They are big, aren't they?" said Vera, properly impressed by the lamps.

"They never go out," said Bones solemnly. "I assure you I'm lookingforward to the return journey with the greatest eagerness – I mean tosay, of course, that I'm looking forward to the other journey – I don'tmean to say I want the day to finish, and all that sort of rot. Infact, dear old Miss Vera, I think we'd better be starting."

He cranked up and climbed into the driver's seat, and beckonedMarguerite to seat herself by his side. He might have done thiswithout explanation, but Bones never did things without explanation, and he turned back and glared at Hamilton.

"You'd like to be alone, dear old thing, wouldn't you?" he saidgruffly. "Don't worry about me, dear old lad. A lot of people say youcan see things reflected in the glass screen, but I'm so absorbed in mydriving – "

"Get on with it!" snarled Hamilton.

It was, nevertheless, a perfect day, and Bones, to everybody'ssurprise, his own included, drove perfectly. It had been his secretintention to drive to Brighton; but nobody suspected this plan, orcared very much what his intentions had been, and the car was runningsmoothly across Salisbury Plain.