I said:  “A quiet pepper and salt.”

Carrie said:  “Well, it looks more like mustard, if you want to know the truth.”

CHAPTER XIX

Meet Teddy Finsworth, an old schoolfellow.  We have a pleasant and quiet dinner at his uncle’s, marred only by a few awkward mistakes on my part respecting Mr. Finsworth’s pictures.  A discussion on dreams.

April 27.—­Kept a little later than usual at the office, and as I was hurrying along a man stopped me, saying:  “Hulloh!  That’s a face I know.”  I replied politely:  “Very likely; lots of people know me, although I may not know them.”  He replied:  “But you know me—­Teddy Finsworth.”  So it was.  He was at the same school with me.  I had not seen him for years and years.  No wonder I did not know him!  At school he was at least a head taller than I was; now I am at least a head taller than he is, and he has a thick beard, almost grey.  He insisted on my having a glass of wine (a thing I never do), and told me he lived at Middlesboro’, where he was Deputy Town Clerk, a position which was as high as the Town Clerk of London—­in fact, higher.  He added that he was staying for a few days in London, with his uncle, Mr. Edgar Paul Finsworth (of Finsworth and Pultwell).  He said he was sure his uncle would be only too pleased to see me, and he had a nice house, Watney Lodge, only a few minutes’ walk from Muswell Hill Station.  I gave him our address, and we parted.

In the evening, to my surprise, he called with a very nice letter from Mr. Finsworth, saying if we (including Carrie) would dine with them to-morrow (Sunday), at two o’clock, he would be delighted.  Carrie did not like to go; but Teddy Finsworth pressed us so much we consented.  Carrie sent Sarah round to the butcher’s and countermanded our half-leg of mutton, which we had ordered for to-morrow.

April 28, Sunday.—­We found Watney Lodge farther off than we anticipated, and only arrived as the clock struck two, both feeling hot and uncomfortable.  To make matters worse, a large collie dog pounced forward to receive us.  He barked loudly and jumped up at Carrie, covering her light skirt, which she was wearing for the first time, with mud.  Teddy Finsworth came out and drove the dog off and apologised.  We were shown into the drawing-room, which was beautifully decorated.  It was full of knick-knacks, and some plates hung up on the wall.  There were several little wooden milk-stools with paintings on them; also a white wooden banjo, painted by one of Mr. Paul Finsworth’s nieces—­a cousin of Teddy’s.

Mr. Paul Finsworth seemed quite a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman, and was most gallant to Carrie.  There were a great many water-colours hanging on the walls, mostly different views of India, which were very bright.  Mr. Finsworth said they were painted by “Simpz,” and added that he was no judge of pictures himself but had been informed on good authority that they were worth some hundreds of pounds, although he had only paid a few shillings apiece for them, frames included, at a sale in the neighbourhood.