OU remember Schumann's 'Carnival," of course. Arscott has sometimes wondered since if it were all started by that. By an odd coincidence someone was playing it on the piano in one of the houses near which the Dorley motor-'buses pulled up and awaited passengers. It had been also wandering in his head since he left the concert-room, where it had been quite superbly and enticingly played. Halford was very particular as to its musical reputation, and prided itself on drawing its audiences from the surrounding country. It drew also from neighbouring towns, even from Dorley, some ten miles away. It was a wonderful summer evening, with a gibbous moon already climbing up the eastern sky, and Arscott was prettily fluttered with the exquisite music, and also the temptations of what had seemed an exquisite face. She was in evening-dress, and had sat some two rows from him, but he had not seen her full face; it eluded, invited, and tantalised. In the mood evoked" by "Carnival" he coquetted with the possibilities of its fascination.
And then, with the light of the 'bus gleaming on her fairly, he saw her mounting the step. Apparently she was going towards Dorley. So was he. So much the better. He ascended after her, with the strains of "Carnival" flowing out upon the beautiful night air, and he pushed forward to a seat towards the top, near an open window. Thus he could keep his eye on her and also breathe the magic air. She was with a companion of her own sex, but more mature and matronly. Serene airs blew the soft hair into wrinkles. Arscott was charmed. The profile was just as exquisite as he had thought, and the setting was harmonious. The windows were open in front near the driver, and beside him was a clean-shaven man, on whom the light fell constantly as he turned his head from one side to the other. He was talking cheerfully, even jocularly, with the driver. The big 'bus kicked and moved on. Arscott turned to glance at the other passengers.
The 'bus was by no means full, but everyone in it seemed to have come from happy gatherings. He noted two youths of decent, middle-class origin, a rather angular spinster lady with what must be a small nephew of about thirteen, an old gentleman with a white moustache, very much de rigueur a demure shop-girl, and others. And outside was the smooth-faced man talking to the driver. Arscott's eyes reclaimed the girl with the opera cloak over her bare shoulders, who was listening with a smiling visage to the quick talk of her friend. The latter caught his gaze, and her good-natured, easy-going face smiled. Arscott answered the smile before he knew he was going to do so. Just beyond Halford there was a steep hill which had to be climbed, and then followed the descent into the flatter country, with the sharp left-hand turn into the Dorley road. The motor-'bus groaned up, stopped to change gear, and jerked, throwing Arscott forward. He bumped into a stout lady in front, and apologised. Her smile was vaguely amiable.
"It is this hill," she said, as if explanatorily.
Arscott's glance carried once more to the girl in the opera cloak. Suddenly he was tapped on the shoulder from behind, and, looking round, saw a tall, thin-faced man of middle age.
"This 'bus does go to Dorley, doesn't it?" he inquired anxiously.
Arscott assured him, and with a polite bow he sat back. The 'bus had reached the top of the hill now, and was preparing to descend. At the first rush the air flowed in beautifully. The light in front showed the face of the passenger talking gleefully with the driver, who had lighted a cigar which his companion had given him. The thin-faced man tapped again on Arscott's shoulder.
"How long," he asked, "does it take to get to Dorley?"
"About an hour," said Arscott rather shortly, for he had a suspicion that this neighbour would prove fussy. The girl drew his eyes again, and now he saw her full face, which bore out the radical impressions of her profile. Under the light night airs of that summer night, with the gibbous moon aloft, he thrilled to the exhibition of that beauty. Just then the 'bus began to increase its pace and rock clumsily in the roadway. It floundered so heavily that he was shaken by a movement out of his seat and flung across the dividing passage upon the two ladies.
"I—I sincerely beg your pardon," he stammered, very much in confusion. "The
"Great goodness, I hope it's not going to overturn!" said the older lady, in alarm.