hateful to her. And then, to be taught to ride a bicycle by Albert
Witham! Her very soul stood still.
"Yes," said Albert, beaming down at her from his strange pale eyes.
"Come on. When will you have your first lesson?"
"Oh," cried Alvina in confusion. "I can't promise. I haven't time,
really."
"Time!" exclaimed Arthur rudely. "But what do you do wi' yourself
all day?"
"I have to keep house," she said, looking at him archly.
"House! You can put a chain round its neck, and tie it up," he
retorted.
Albert laughed, showing all his teeth.
"I'm sure you find plenty to do, with everything on your hands,"
said Lottie to Alvina.
"I do!" said Alvina. "By evening I'm quite tired--though you mayn't
believe it, since you say I do nothing," she added, laughing
confusedly to Arthur.
But he, hard-headed little fortune-maker, replied:
"You have a girl to help you, don't you!"
Albert, however, was beaming at her sympathetically.
"You have too much to do indoors," he said. "It would do you good to
get a bit of exercise out of doors. Come down to the Coach Road
tomorrow afternoon, and let me give you a lesson. Go on--"
Now the coach-road was a level drive between beautiful park-like
grass-stretches, down in the valley. It was a delightful place for
learning to ride a bicycle, but open in full view of all the world.
Alvina would have died of shame. She began to laugh nervously and
hurriedly at the very thought.
"No, I can't. I really can't. Thanks, awfully," she said.
"Can't you really!" said Albert. "Oh well, we'll say another day,
shall we?"
"When I feel I can," she said.
"Yes, when you feel like it," replied Albert.
"That's more it," said Arthur. "It's not the time. It's the
nervousness." Again Albert beamed at her sympathetically, and said:
"Oh, I'll hold you. You needn't be afraid."
"But I'm not afraid," she said.
"You won't _say_ you are," interposed Arthur. "Women's faults
mustn't be owned up to."
Alvina was beginning to feel quite dazed. Their mechanical,
overbearing way was something she was unaccustomed to. It was like
the jaws of a pair of insentient iron pincers. She rose, saying she
must go.
Albert rose also, and reached for his straw hat, with its coloured
band.
"I'll stroll up with you, if you don't mind," he said. And he took
his place at her side along the Knarborough Road, where everybody
turned to look. For, of course, he had a sort of fame in Woodhouse.
She went with him laughing and chatting. But she did not feel at all
comfortable. He seemed so pleased. Only he was not pleased with
_her_. He was pleased with himself on her account: inordinately
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