moments before he recovered his equanimity. Indeed it was not quite
restored till the entrance of another customer, who purchased two
ounces of butter. When, in the dead silence which ensued, Sally was
heard weighing out the order, O'Gree's face beamed; and when there
followed the chink of coins in the till, he brought his fist down with
a triumphant crash upon the table.
When tea was over, O'Gree managed to get Waymark apart from the rest,
and showed him a small photograph of Sally which had recently been
taken.
"Sally's great ambition," he whispered, "is to be taken cabinet-size,
and in a snow-storm. You've seen the kind of thing in the shop-windows?
We'll manage that before long, but this will do for the present. You
don't see a face like that every day; eh, Waymark?"
Sally, her housewifery duly accomplished in the invisible regions, came
back and sat by the fireside. She had exchanged her work-a-day costume
for one rather more ornate. Noticeable was a delicate gold chain which
hung about her neck, and Waymark smiled when he presently saw her take
out her watch and seem to compare its time with that of the clock on
the mantelpiece. It was a wedding present from Ida.
Sally caught the smile, and almost immediately came over to a seat by
Waymark; and, whilst the others were engaged in loud talk, spoke with
him privately.
"Have you seen her lately?" she asked.
"Not for some weeks," the other replied, shaking his head.
"Well, it's the queerest thing I ever knew, s'nough! But, there," she
added, with an arch glance, "some men are that stupid--"
Waymark laughed slightly, and again shook his head.
"All a mistake," he said.
"Yes, that's just what it is, you may depend upon it. I more'n half
believe you're telling fibs."
Tumblers of whisky were soon smoking on the table, and all except Casti
laughed and talked to their heart's content. Casti was no kill-joy; he
smiled at all that went on, now and then putting in a friendly word;
but the vitality of the others was lacking in him, and the weight which
crushed him night and day could not so easily be thrown aside. O'Gree
was abundant in reminiscences of academic days, and it would not have
been easy to resist altogether the comical vigour of his stories, all
without one touch of real bitterness or malice.
"Bedad," he cried, "I sent old Pendy a business prospectus, with my
compliments written on the bottom of it. I thought he might perhaps be
disposed
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