And these two young people were focused as in a limelight, and were not

only visible from the car, but visible for miles around.

"Dear me!" said Bones.

The girl said nothing. She shaded her eyes from the light as she

walked back. As for Bones, he climbed into the driver's seat with the

deliberation of an old gentleman selecting a penny chair in the park,

and said, without turning his head: "It's the road to the left."

"I'm glad," said Hamilton, and made no comment even when Bones took the

road to the right.

They had gone a quarter of a mile along this highway when the lamp went

out. It went out with as unexpected and startling suddenness as

before. Bones jingled the key, then turned.

"You wouldn't like to get out, dear old Ham, and have a look round,

would you?"

"No, Bones," said Hamilton drily. "We're quite comfortable."

"You wouldn't like to get down, my jolly old typewriter?"

"No, thank you," said Miss Marguerite Whitland with decision.

"Oh!" said Bones. "Then, under the circumstances, dear old person,

we'd all better sit here until----"

At that moment the light came on. It flooded the white road, and the

white road was an excellent wind-screen against which the bending head

of Bones was thrown into sharp relief.

The car moved on. At regular intervals the light that never went out

forsook its home-loving habits and took a constitutional. The

occupants of the ear came to regard its eccentricities with philosophy,

even though it began to rain, and there was no hood.

On the outskirts of Guildford, Bones was pulled up by a policeman, who

took his name because the lights were too bright. On the other side of

Guildford he was pulled up by another policeman because he had no light

at all. Passing through Kingston, the lamp began to flicker, sending

forth brilliant dots and dashes, which continued until they were on

Putney Common, where the lamp's message was answered from a camp of Boy

Scouts, one signalman of the troop being dragged from his bed for the

purpose, the innocent child standing in his shirt at the call of duty.

"A delightful day," said Hamilton at parting that night. (It was

nearly twelve o'clock.) "I'm sorry you've had so much trouble with

that lamp, Bones. What did you call it?"

"I say, old fellow," said Bones, ignoring the question, "I hope, when

you saw me picking a spider off dear old Miss Marguerite's shoulder,

you didn't--er--think anything?"

"The only thing I thought was," said Hamilton, "that I didn't see the

spider."

"Don't stickle, dear old partner," said Bones testily. "It may have

been an earwig. Now, as a man of the world, dear old blasé one, do

you think I'd compromise an innocent typewriter? Do you think I ought

to----" He paused, but his voice was eager.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024