If Winter Don't Part 2

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Luke bicycled from home to business every morning, and from business to home every evening. He enjoyed this immensely. Every morning as he rode off he said to himself: "Further from Mabel. Further and further from Mabel. Every day, in every way, I'm getting further and further."

On his return journey in the evening he experienced the same relief in getting further from old Cain, and further from the office.

At the middle point of his journey it always seemed to him that he did not belong to the office any more, and that he did not belong to Mabel either. He was all his own, in a world by himself. He would go on in a snow-white ecstasy. Then he would get up, dust his clothes, and re-mount.

He had some habits, which, to the stupid and censorious, might almost seem childish. He cut for himself with his little hatchet a number of pegs, and always carried some of them in his pocket. At every point on the road where he fell off, he drove in a peg. It seemed to him a splendid idea. In a wave of enthusiasm he told Mabel all about it.

"Isn't it absolutely splendid?" he asked.

"Dotty," said Mabel, briefly.

He went out into the woodshed and cut more pegs.

One Monday morning as he started on his ride he saw before him at intervals all down the road little white specks. Yes, every one of those pegs had been painted white by somebody.

Who could have done it? He decided at once that it must be Mabel. She had repented of her harshness. She had made up her mind to try to enter more into his secret soul. This was her silent way of showing it. He determined that if this were so he would start kissing her again that evening. It overcame him completely. He drove in one more peg, and re-mounted.

"Mabel," he said that night at dinner, "It's good and sweet of you to have painted all those pegs white. It must have taken you a long time."

"Never touched your rotten old pegs," said Mabel. "Pa.s.s the salt."

His ears twitched.

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Later that evening he sat alone in his bedroom. He also used this room as a study. He had been driven to this somewhat frowsty practice by the fact that he could not possibly sit in any room that had ever been called a den.

A tap at the door. Ellen Morse entered to turn the bed down. A bright idea flashed across Luke's mind. His ears positively jumped.

He believed in liberty, equality and familiarity, especially familiarity. So did Ellen Morse.

"Dot," he said, "was it you who painted my fall-pegs white?"

"Well, old bean," said Dot, "it was like this. I'll tell you."

She seated herself on the bed. "You see, this house has only got four reception-rooms and eight bedrooms, and all the was.h.i.+ng's done at home, and all the dressmaking, and there's a good deal of entertaining, mostly when you're not there, and everything has to be right up to the mark. Well, as there were the whole two of us to do it, your old woman thought time would be hanging heavy on our hands, so now we do the garden as well. The other day Mr. Doom Dagshaw was lunching here, and they were going to play tennis afterwards. Your bit of skirt has some proper games with that Dagshaw. I watch them out of the pantry window in my leisure moments. Well, anyhow, I'd to mark out the tennis court, and I mixed up a bit more of the stuff than was needed, and I thought I might as well use it up on your pegs. You see, I get a half-Sunday off every three months, and it was only a fourteen-mile walk there and back. And I'm sure I didn't know what else to do with my holiday."

"Dot," said Luke, "you seem to be able to enter into things. You get the hang of my ideas. Some do, some don't. If you can sneak off for half-an-hour to-morrow evening we'll go and play at boats together."

"Boats?"

"Yes. You know the bridge. We get two pieces of wood, throw them in the stream on one side, then run across and watch them come out on the other. And the one that comes out first, wins. Won't that be glorious?"

"Well, you are one to think of things," said Dot.

(And now we'll have a little novelty. The Great Novelists of to-day number their sections. We'll have a number without any section. This has never been done be----

4

CHAPTER IV

It can be hardly necessary to say that Mabel caught Luke and Dot playing boats on the following evening. Luke was always discovered. He was even detected when he had done nothing.

As he dressed for dinner that night, he reflected that once more Mabel had disappointed him. He had expected her to get into a fury of jealousy, and to suspect him of the most criminal intentions with regard to Dot. This would have been real suffering for him, and he would have enjoyed it. But all she had said to him was that she wished he would behave a little more like a man and a little less like a baby, and an imbecile baby at that. All she had said to Dot was that she thought she could find her some other occupation. It was difficult for him to keep his temper. But he exercised self-control. In fact, he never spoke another word for the rest of the evening. It was a pity.

He was such a pleasant man. Why could not Mabel see it?

Things were no better at breakfast next morning.

Mabel said, "Just fancy, Mrs. Smith in a sable stole at church last Sunday, and I know for a fact that he only gets three-ten. If it was real sable it was wicked, and if it was not she was acting a lie."

Luke smote the table once with his clenched fist, spilt his tea, and resumed his newspaper.

"Further from Mabel," he thought, as he mounted his bike. "Every day, in every way, I'm getting further and further."

About two miles from Dilborough he became suddenly aware that two motor-cars were approaching him. They were being driven abreast at racing speed, and occupied the whole of the road. For one moment Luke thought of remaining where he was, and causing Mabel to be a widow.

Then, murmuring to himself, "Safety first," he ran up the gra.s.sy slope at the side of the road and fell off. Both the cars pulled up. A man's voice sang out cheerily: "Hallo, Sharper. Hallo, hallo. Who gave you leave to dismount?"

Luke recognized the voice. One of the cars was driven by Lord Tyburn, and the other by his wife, Jona.

Luke hurriedly drove in a peg to mark the spot, and came down into the road again.

"How's yourself?" said Lord Tyburn. "We've been away for two years.

Timbuctoo, Margate. All over the place. Only got back to Gallows last night."

Luke shook hands with him and with Jona.

"You've not changed much," said Jona. "Same funny old face."

"It is the only one that I happen to have, Lady Tyburn."

"Oh, drop it. Call me Jona. You always used to, Lukie, you know. And Bill don't mind; do you, Bill?"

"That? Lord, no. But what you have been and done, Sharper, is to spoil a very pretty and sporting event. Jona and I were racing to Halfpenny Hole, and I'd got her absolutely beaten."

"Liar," said Jona, "I was leading--leading by inches."

"Ah, but I'd lots in reserve."

"Strong, silent man, ain't you?" said Jona.

They both laughed.

"Yes," said Luke, "I'm afraid I was rather in the way. I seem to be almost always in the way. It happens at home. It happens at the office. I say, I wonder what you two would have done if you'd met a cart?"