“Well, of finding if they were still about in these parts....  Say!  I haven’t dropped a brick, have I?”

He looked from one face to another.

“She’s a Corner,” said Mrs. Britling.

“Well,” said Mr. Direck, and hesitated for a moment.  It was so delightful that one couldn’t go on being just discreet.  The atmosphere was free and friendly.  His intonation disarmed offence.  And he gave the young lady the full benefit of a quite expressive eye.  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Cousin Corner.  How are the old folks at home?”

Section 10

The bright interest of this consulship helped Mr. Direck more than anything to get the better of his Robinson-anecdote crave, and when presently he found his dialogue with Mr. Britling resumed, he turned at once to this remarkable discovery of his long lost and indeed hitherto unsuspected relative.  “It’s an American sort of thing to do, I suppose,” he said apologetically, “but I almost thought of going on, on Monday, to Market Saffron, which was the locality of the Hinkinsons, and just looking about at the tombstones in the churchyard for a day or so.”

“Very probably,” said Mr. Britling, “you’d find something about them in the parish registers.  Lots of our registers go back three hundred years or more.  I’ll drive you over in my lil’ old car.”

“Oh!  I wouldn’t put you to that trouble,” said Mr. Direck hastily.

“It’s no trouble.  I like the driving.  What I have had of it.  And while we’re at it, we’ll come back by Harborough High Oak and look up the Corner pedigree.  They’re all over that district still.  And the road’s not really difficult; it’s only a bit up and down and roundabout.”

“I couldn’t think, Mr. Britling, of putting you to that much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.  I want a day off, and I’m dying to take Gladys—­”

“Gladys?” said Mr. Direck with sudden hope.

“That’s my name for the lil’ car.  I’m dying to take her for something like a decent run.  I’ve only had her out four times altogether, and I’ve not got her up yet to forty miles.  Which I’m told she ought to do easily.  We’ll consider that settled.”

For the moment Mr. Direck couldn’t think of any further excuse.  But it was very clear in his mind that something must happen; he wished he knew of somebody who could send a recall telegram from London, to prevent him committing himself to the casual destinies of Mr. Britling’s car again.  And then another interest became uppermost in his mind.

“You’d hardly believe me,” he said, “if I told you that that Miss Corner of yours has a quite extraordinary resemblance to a miniature I’ve got away there in America of a cousin of my maternal grandmother’s.  She seems a very pleasant young lady.”

But Mr. Britling supplied no further information about Miss Corner.