Page:Herbert Jenkins - Patricia Brent Spinster.djvu/162

 After tea they strolled through Regent's Park, watching the squirrels and talking about the thousand and one things that good comrades have to talk about. Mr. Triggs told something of his early struggles, how his wife had always believed in him and been his helpmate and loyal comrade, how he missed her, and how, when she had died, she had urged him to marry again.

"Sam," she had said, "you want a woman to look after you; you're nothing but a great, big baby."

"And she was right, me dear," said Mr. Triggs huskily, "she was right as she always was, only she didn't know that there couldn't ever be anyone after 'er."

Slowly and tactfully Patricia guided the old man's thoughts away from the sad subject of his wife's death, and soon had him laughing gaily at some stories she had heard the night previously from the Bowens. Mr. Triggs was as easily diverted from sadness to laughter as a child.

It was half-past seven when they left the Park gates, and Patricia, looking suddenly at her wristlet watch, cried out, "Oh! I shall be late for dinner, I must fly!"

"You're going to dine with me, me dear," announced Mr. Triggs.

"Oh, but I can't," said Patricia; "I—I"

"Why can't you?"

"Well, I haven't told Mrs. Craske-Morton."

"Who's she?" enquired Mr. Triggs.