Part 62

They sought a little bottle-windowed half dairy, half restaurant, a dark-brewed, two-hundred-year-old house, at the head of a narrow side street. They had patronized it from the days of their fagdom, and were very much friends at home.

“We’ve come to pay our debts, mother,” said Stalky, sliding his arm round the fifty-six-inch waist of the mistress of the establishment. “To pay our debts and say good-by--and--and we’re awf’ly hungry.”

“Aie!” said Mother Yeo, “makkin’ love to me! I’m shaamed of ’ee.”

“’Rackon us wouldn’t du no such thing if Mary was here,” said McTurk, lapsing into the broad North Devon that the boys used on their campaigns.

“Who’m takin’ my name in vain?” The inner door opened, and Mary, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and apple-checked, entered with a bowl of cream in her hands. McTurk kissed her. Beetle followed suit, with exemplary calm. Both boys were promptly cuffed.

“Niver kiss the maid when ’e can kiss the mistress,” said Stalky, shamelessly winking at Mother Yeo, as he investigated a shelf of jams.

“Glad to see one of ’ee don’t want his head slapped no more?” said Mary invitingly, in that direction.

“Neu! Reckon I can get ’em give me,” said Stalky, his back turned.

“Not by me--yeou little masterpiece!”

“Niver asked ’ee. There’s maids to Northam. Yiss--an’ Appledore.” An unreproducible sniff, half contempt, half reminiscence, rounded the retort.

“Aie! Yeou won’t niver come to no good end. Whutt be ’baout, smellin’ the cream?”

“’Tees bad,” said Stalky. “Zmell ’un.”

Incautiously Mary did as she was bid.

“Bidevoor kiss.”

“Niver amiss,” said Stalky, taking it without injury.

“Yeou--yeou--yeou--” Mary began, bubbling with mirth.

“They’m better to Northam--more rich, laike an’ us gets them give back again,” he said, while McTurk solemnly waltzed Mother Yeo out of breath, and Beetle told Mary the sad news, as they sat down to clotted cream, jam, and hot bread.

“Yiss. Yeou’ll niver zee us no more, Mary. We’re goin’ to be passons an’ missioners.”

“Steady the Buffs!” said McTurk, looking through the blind. “Tulke has followed us. He’s comin’ up the street now.”

“They’ve niver put us out o’ bounds,” said Mother Yeo. “Bide yeou still, my little dearrs.” She rolled into the inner room to make the score.

“Mary,” said Stalky, suddenly, with tragic intensity. “Do ’ee lov’ me, Mary?”

“Iss--fai! Talled ’ee zo since yeou was zo high!” the damsel replied.

“Zee ’un comin’ up street, then?” Stalky pointed to the unconscious Tulke. “He’ve niver been kissed by no sort or manner o’ maid in hees borned laife, Mary. Oh, ’tees shaamful!”

“Whutt’s to do with me? ’Twill come to ’un in the way o’ nature, I rackon.” She nodded her head sagaciously. “You niver want me to kiss un--sure-ly?”

“Give ’ee half-a-crown if ’ee will,” said Stalky, exhibiting the coin.

Half-a-crown was much to Mary Yeo, and a jest was more; but--

“Yeu’m afraid,” said McTurk, at the psychological moment.

“Aie!” Beetle echoed, knowing her weak point. “There’s not a maid to Northam ’ud think twice. An’ yeou such a fine maid, tu!”