"What you want," advised the watery-eyed young man on shaking hands with me, "is complete rest and a tombstone."
I wished at the time I could have followed his prescription.
The maternal Sellars waddled after us into the passage, which she completely blocked. She told me she was delight-ted to have met me, and that she was always at home on Sundays.
I said I would remember it, and thanked her warmly for a pleasant evening, at Miss Sellars' request calling her Ma.
Outside, Miss Sellars agreed that my presentiment had proved correct--that I had not shone to advantage. Our journey home on a tramcar was a somewhat silent proceeding. At the door of her room she forgave me, and kissed me good night. Had I been frank with her, I should have thanked her for that evening's experience. It had made my course plain to me.
The next day, which was Thursday, I wandered about the streets till two o'clock in the morning, when I slipped in quietly, passing Miss Sellars' door with my boots in my hand.
After Mr. Lott's departure on Friday, which, fortunately, was pay-day, I set my desk in order and confided to Minikin written instructions concerning all matters unfinished.
"I shall not be here to-morrow," I told him. "Going to follow your advice."
"Found anything to do?" he asked.
"Not yet," I answered.
"Suppose you can't get anything?"
"If the worst comes to the worst," I replied, "I can hang myself."
"Well, you know the girl. Maybe you are right," he agreed.
"Hope it won't throw much extra work on you," I said.
"Well, I shan't be catching it if it does," was his answer. "That's all right."
He walked with me to the "Angel," and there we parted.
"If you do get on to the stage," he said, "and it's anything worth seeing, and you send me an order, and I can find the time, maybe I'll come and see you."
I thanked him for his promised support and jumped upon the tram.
The O'Kelly's address was in Belsize Square. I was about to ring and knock, as requested by a highly-polished brass plate, when I became aware of pieces of small coal falling about me on the doorstep.
Looking up, I perceived the O'Kelly leaning out of an attic window.
From signs I gathered I was to retire from the doorstep and wait. In a few minutes the door opened and his hand beckoned me to enter.
"Walk quietly," he whispered; and on tip-toe we climbed up to the attic from where had fallen the coal. "I've been waiting for ye," explained the O'Kelly, speaking low. "Me wife--a good woman, Paul; sure, a better woman never lived; ye'll like her when ye know her, later on--she might not care about ye're calling. She'd want to know where I met ye, and--ye understand? Besides," added the O'Kelly, "we can smoke up here;" and seating himself where he could keep an eye upon the door, near to a small cupboard out of which he produced a pipe still alight, the O'Kelly prepared himself to listen.
I told him briefly the reason of my visit.
"It was my fault, Paul," he was good enough to say; "my fault entirely. Between ourselves, it was a damned silly idea, that party, the whole thing altogether. Don't ye think so?"
I replied that I was naturally prejudiced against it myself.
"Most unfortunate for me," continued the O'Kelly; "I know that. Me cabman took me to Hammersmith instead of Hampstead; said I told him Hammersmith. Didn't get home here till three o'clock in the morning.
Most unfortunate--under the circumstances."
I could quite imagine it.
"But I'm glad ye've come," said the O'Kelly. "I had a notion ye did something foolish that evening, but I couldn't remember precisely what. It's been worrying me."
"It's been worrying me also, I can assure you," I told him; and I gave him an account of my Wednesday evening's experience.
