Carnival Part 45

Maurice was so eager to carry this addendum that none of them had the heart to vote firmly for bed.

"I don't mind where we go," said Ronnie. "But why Greenwich in particular? We can see the dawn break over the river just as well at Westminster."

"Greenwich is in the manner," Maurice answered.

"What manner?"

"The crinoline manner. The Sloop is absolutely typically mid-Victorian and already twice as romantic as your crumbling Gothic or overworked Georgian."

So the taxis hummed off to Greenwich through the murk of a wet and windy January morning. Wagons were being unloaded in Covent Garden as they started; and along the Strand workers were already hurrying through the rain. It was still too dark to see the river as they spun over Waterloo Bridge, but the air blew in through the open windows very freshly. In the New Kent Road factory girls, shuffling to work, turned to shout after the four taxis; and Madge Wilson leaned out to wave to her mother's shop as they pa.s.sed.

All the way Jenny slept in Maurice's arms, and he from time to time would bend over and kiss very lightly the sculptured mouth. In Deptford High Street the gray dawn was beginning to define the houses, and in a rift of the heavy clouds stars were paling.

Jenny woke up with a start.

"Where am I? Where am I?" Then, aware of Maurice, she nestled closer.

"You've been asleep, dearest. We're almost at Greenwich. It's practically morning now."

"I'm cold."

"Are you, my sweet? I thought this fur coat would keep you warm. It's yours, you know. I bought it for you to-day--yesterday, I mean."

"It's lovely and warm," she said, "but I'm so sleepy."

"You are so perfect when you're lying asleep," he said; "I must make a statue of you. I shall call it The Tired Dancer. I'll begin as soon as possible and finish it this spring."

"I wish spring would come quick," she murmured. "I'm sick of winter."

"So am I," he agreed. "And we shall have the most exquisite adventures in the spring. We'll go out often into the country. Long country walks will do you good."

"Rather."

"Hullo!" cried Maurice. "Here we are at the Sloop. I hope breakfast is ready."

There was, however, no sign of life in the hotel by the water's side. It stared at them without any welcome.

"What an extraordinary thing," said Maurice. "I'll ring the bell. Great Scott! I never posted the letter telling them about breakfast."

"What would you do with him?" said Madge.

"Never mind. It's absurd to keep us waiting like this. We can surely get breakfast." He pealed the bell loudly as he spoke.

"Can't you get in, sir?" asked one of the drivers.

"And it's coming on to rain," said Jenny.

Maurice pealed the bell louder than ever; and finally a sad-eyed porter in s.h.i.+rt-sleeves opened the door and surveyed the party over a broom.

"We want breakfast," said Maurice; "breakfast for eight."

"Breakfast always is at eight," the man informed them.

"Breakfast for eight people and as quickly as possible."

The man looked doubtful.

"Good heavens!" Maurice cried irritably. "Surely in any decent hotel you can get breakfast for eight."

"What are you?" the man asked. "Theatricals?"

"No, no, no, we've been to a fancy dress ball--and we want breakfast."

In the end they were admitted, and, a chamber-maid having been discovered on a remote landing, the girls were shown into a bedroom.

"I thought this hotel professed to cater for excursions of pleasure,"

said Maurice frigidly.

"We don't get many of 'em here in winter."

"I'm not surprised. Good Lord, isn't the fire lighted in the coffee-room?"

"We don't use the coffee-room much--except for political meetings.

Greenwich has gone out from what it used to be."

The girls came in, pale and tired, and the party foregathered round the coffee-room grate, from which a wisp of smoke ascended in steady promise.

"Well, Maurice," said Castleton, "I think very little of this ravished conservatory into which your historic sense has led us. How do you like Greenwich, girls?"

The girls all sighed.

"They don't."

"Hullo, here's a waiter," said Cunningham, turning round. "Good morning, waiter."

"Good morning, sir."

"Is breakfast going to be long?"

"It's on order sir. Eggs and bacon, I think you said."

"I should think somebody probably did. In fact, I'd almost bet on it,"

said Castleton. "What's the time, waiter?"

"I don't know, sir, but I'll find out for you."

"I always thought Greenwich was famous for its time."