A Bicycle of Cathay - Page 12/112

"It's of no use for him to try to dry himself," she said, "for he's

wet to the bone. He must change his clothes, and hang those he's got

on before the fire."

"Change his clothes!" exclaimed the man. "How ever can he do that?

I've nothing that'll fit him, and of course he has brought nothing

along with him."

"Never you mind," said she. "Something's got to be got. Take him into

the little chamber. And don't consider the floor; that can be wiped

up."

She came into the kitchen and spoke to me. "You must come and change

your clothes," she said. "You'll catch your death of cold, else.

You're the school-master from Walford, I think, sir? Indeed, I'm sure

of it, for I've seen you on your wheel."

Smiling at the idea that through the instrumentality of my bicycle I

had been making myself known to the people of the surrounding

country, I followed the man into a small bed-chamber on the

ground-floor.

"Now," said he, "the quicker you get off your wet clothes and give

yourself a good rub-down the better it will be for you. And I'll go

and see what I can do in the way of something for you to put on."

I asked him to bring me the bag from my bicycle, and after doing so he

left me.

Very soon I heard talking outside of my door, and as both my

entertainers had clear, high voices, I could hear distinctly what they

said.

"Go get him the corduroys," said she. "He's a well-made man, but he's

no bigger than your father was."

"The corduroys?" he said, somewhat doubtfully, I thought.

"Yes," she replied. "Go get them! I should be glad to have them put to

some use."

"But what for a coat?" said he. "There's nothing in the house that he

could get on."

"That's true," said she. "But he must have something. You can get him

the Duke's dressing-gown."

"What!" exclaimed the man. "You don't mean--"

"Yes, I do mean," said she. "It's big enough for anybody, and it'll

keep him from ketching cold. Go fetch it!"

In a short time there was a knock at my door, and the little man

handed me in a pair of yellow corduroy trousers and a large and gaudy

dressing-gown. "There!" said he. "They'll keep you warm until your own

clothes dry."