Bartholomew's Church!
VII
"Hello, Billy! Who's your good-looking friend?" Rosythe was in full
sail before a breeze of his own making.
How could I answer. "Why--er--"
The stranger spoke. "They call me Carpenter."
"Ah!" said the critic. "Mr. Carpenter, delighted to meet you." He
gave the stranger a hearty grip of the hand. "Are you on location?"
"Location?" said the other; and Rosythe shot an arrow of laughter
towards me. Perhaps he knew about the vagaries of my Aunt Caroline;
anyhow, he would have a fantastic tale to tell about me, and was
going to exploit it to the limit!
I made a pitiful attempt to protect my dignity. "Mr. Carpenter has
just arrived," I began--
"Just arrived, hey?" said the critic. "Oviparous, viviparous, or
oviviparous?" He raised his hand; actually, in the glory of his wit,
he was going to clap the stranger on the shoulder!
But his hand stayed in the air. Such a look as came on Carpenter's
face! "Hush!" he commanded. "Be silent!" And then: "Any man will
join in laughter; but who will join in disease?"
"Hey?" said Rosythe; and it was my turn to grin.
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