HE Hall was filled with a talking, noisy audience; some of the men were smoking a pungent kind of tobacco that induced the ladies on the platform, who had come from west to south-east, to cough and to pat their eyes with lace handkerchiefs. Miss Wareborough, the good-looking young woman in the chair, tapped at the desk with her ivory hammer more than once to appeal for attention to the speech of Mr. James Flanders; and Miss Wareborough, as she did this, looked like a young woman who was in the habit of being obeyed. Added to this was a thoughtful look, because she remembered that the last time she had come to the Hall someone had looked after her; someone who was now away in West Africa. The Hall watched her closely.
"Come in her broom, she did. She 's a toff, mind ye."
"Don't she do her 'air up nicely too! I wish mind 'd behive itself like that. Why"
The girls who were talking received each a tap on the shoulder.
"Can't you keep quiet when anyone 's makin' a speech," inquired Miss Emma Knight, "or won't you?"
The girls ceased their conversation, but they told each other in a whisper that Emma Knight thought she was everybody because she had saved a few pounds and was engaged to this young man now speaking; but that Emma Knight was not everybody, and, what was more, Emma Knight never would be everybody. The loud, strident voice of the young man on the platform moderated itself slightly as, approaching the end of his speech, he turned, with an awkward attempt at courtliness, to the young woman in the chair.
"One word, friends, in conclusion. Before we finish this meeting of the Social League, there 's one duty we 'ave to perform. We 'ave to offer our 'earty thanks to the—well, charming ladies who 've sung to you this evening; they 'aving taken the trouble to come from their comfortable mansions, and what not, to give you an entertainment that's good enough—though I say it—for the 'ighest of the 'igh. { Cheers.) It don't do to pick out names; but to you, Miss Wareborough, for occupying the chair (Loud cheers), we tender our 'earty thanks, and we 'ope to see you again. By your grace of manner, by your charm of disposition, by your attractive"
Mr. James Flanders, looking round the crowded seats for a word, encountered suddenly the large eyes of Miss Emma Knight. Miss Knight's breath was coming quickly; there was a look in her eyes that made young Mr. Flanders falter.
"What I meant to say, friends, was that we 're under a debt to all these ladies, and I, therefore, ask you to 'old up both 'ands to signify your acknowledgment. All in fiver of a vote of thanks to? All! Carried unanimous."
Miss Emma Knight, waiting for Mr. James Flanders in the Hall, nodded rather curtly to her friends, and seemed to have no desire to exchange conversation. This was odd, because Miss Knight was, in an ordinary way, adroit of repartee, and it is notorious that those gifted in this way are seldom reticent. She crossed over and looked through the thick diamond-shaped windows of the Hall. Outside she saw the figure, rather blurred to sight, of Mr. Flanders, in no hat, seeing the ladies into their carriages; saw Miss Wreborough turn to speak to him, and caught enough of the words to tell that it was an invitation to Eaton Square.
"Thought as much," said Miss Emma Knight under her breath. "I 'll Honourable Miss Wareborough her, if she ain't careful. Let her stick to her own spear of life, and not come interferin'." She turned as someone approached. "Oh, you 'ere? Thought you 'd forgot me."
"Course I 'aven't forgot you," said Mr. Flanders, fanning his heated face with his soft hat. He was flushed with the strain of observing etiquette. "Not likely to."
"I 'm not so sure," snapped Miss Knight. "Seem to be paying everybody else a lot of attention."
"How you do talk," complained the young man. "You see how busy I was."
"Just what I did notice."
"I 've got a lot to look after a evening like this, and if I don't see to it all no one else will. When ladies come down 'ere from the West-End"
"Pity they don't stop at home," said Miss Knight bitterly. "Be more to their credit. Asked you to her place for one evening, didn't she?"
"She did so."
"Ah," said Miss Knight mysteriously, "I 'eard! I don't miss much. I 'm not quite blind. I wasn't born the day before yesterday. Old enough to begin to take notice, anyway. I may be a fool in many things, but"
"You 're 'aving a rare old recitation all to yourself," said Mr. Flanders good-humouredly. "Shall I see you 'ome?"
Miss Knight affected a kind of icy surprise.
"Me?"
"Yes, you, Emma."
"But I don't live in Eating Square!"