E-text prepared by Al Haines
LOVE AT PADDINGTON
By W. PETT RIDGE
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS
LONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN
LEEDS, MELBOURNE, AND NEW YORK
LEIPZIG: 35-37 Königstrasse. PARIS: 189, rue Saint-Jacques
NOVELS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
Mord Em'ly.
Secretary to Bayne, M.P.
A Son of the State.
Lost Property.
'Erb.
A Breaker of Laws.
Mrs. Galer's Business.
The Wickhamses.
Name of Garland.
Sixty-nine Birnam Road.
Splendid Brother.
Thanks to Sanderson.
First Published in 1912
LOVE AT PADDINGTON.
CHAPTER I.
Children had been sent off to Sunday school, and the more conscientiousreached that destination; going in, after delivering awful threats andwarnings to those who preferred freedom of thought and a stroll downEdgware Road in the direction of the Park. As a consequence, in thestreets off the main thoroughfare leading to Paddington Station peaceand silence existed, broken only by folk who, after the principal mealof the week, talked in their sleep. Praed Street was different. PraedStreet plumed itself on the fact that it was always lively, ever on themove, occasionally acquainted with royalty. Even on a Sundayafternoon, and certainly at all hours of a week-day, one could lookfrom windows at good racing, generally done by folk impeded by handluggage who, as they ran, glanced suspiciously at every clock, andgasped, in a despairing way, "We shall never do it!" or,optimistically, "We shall only just do it!" or, with resignation,"Well, if we lose this one we shall have to wait for the next."
Few establishments were open in Praed Street, shutters were up at thenumerous second-hand shops, and at the hour of three o'clock p.m. thethirst for journals at E. G. Mills's (Established 1875) was satisfied;the appetite for cigars, cigarettes, and tobacco had scarcely begun.Now and again a couple of boys, who had been reading stories of wildadventure in the Rocky Mountains, dashed across the road, upset one ofMrs. Mills's placard boards, and flew in opposite directions, feelingthat although they might not have equalled the daring exploits of theirheroes in fiction, they had gone as far as was possible in a countryhampered by civilization.
"Young rascals!" said Mrs. Mills, coming back after repairing one ofthese outrages. The shop had a soft, pleasing scent of tobacco fromthe brown jars, marked in gilded letters "Bird's Eye" and "Shag" and"Cavendish," together with the acrid perfume of printer's ink. "Still,I suppose we were all young once. Gertie," raising her voice, "isn'tit about time you popped upstairs to make yourself good-looking?There's no cake in the house, and that always means some one looks inunexpectedly to tea."
No answer.
"Gertie! Don't you hear me when I'm speaking to you?"
"Beg pardon, aunt. I was thinkin