THE BLUE ROOM
remembered that we had been counting on something altogether more arid, scholastic, and severe. A boyish eager face and a petulant pince-nez—untidy hair—a head of constant quick turns like a robin's, and a voice that kept breaking into alto—these were all very strange and new, but not in the least terrible.
He proceeded jerkily through the village, with glances on this side and that; and 'Charming,' he broke out presently; 'quite too charming and delightful!'
I had not counted on this sort of thing, and glanced for help to Edward, who, hands in pockets, looked grimly down his nose. He had taken his line, and meant to stick to it.
Meantime our friend had made an imaginary spy-glass out of his fist, and was squinting through it at something I could not perceive. 'What an exquisite bit!' he burst out. 'Fifteenth century—no—yes it is!'
I began to feel puzzled, not to say alarmed. It reminded me of the butcher in the Arabian Nights, whose common joints, displayed on the shop-front, took to a startled public the appear-
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