"Quite. Reely I am but for a slight cold. Mr Poulter, 'e's well too.
Fancy you married!"
"Yes," said Mavis sadly.
But Miss Nippett took no notice of her dejection.
"I've never 'ad time to get married, there's so much to do at
'Poulter's.' You know! Still, there's no knowing."
Mavis, distressed as she was, could hardly restrain a smile.
"I've news too," went on Miss Nippett.
"Have you?" asked Mavis, who was burning to get to the reason of her
call.
"Ain't you heard of it?"
"I can't say I have."
By way of explanation, Miss Nippett handed Mavis one of a pile of
prospectuses at her elbow; she at once recognised the familiar
pamphlet that extolled Mr Poulter's wares.
"See! 'E's got my name on the 'pectus. 'All particulars from
Poulter's or Miss Nippett, 19 Blomfield Road, W.' Isn't that
something to talk about and think over?"
Mavis hastily assented; she was about to ask for Miss Meakin's
address, but Miss Nippett was too quick for her.
"D'ye think he'll win?"
"Who?"
"Mr Poulter, of course. 'Aven't you 'eard?"
"Tell me."
"Oh, I say, you are ignorant! He's competing for the great cotillion
prize competition.
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