" But he did not tell her of the
chaffing congratulations heaped on him on the prospect of his settling
down with his beautiful blonde demoiselle. He accepted them with a
smile of angelic indulgence.
When they had done they went upstairs; and, on the way, Tinker said, "I
must have a shot at that hair of yours; it--it really gets on my
nerves."
"It's no use," said Elsie with her ready flush. "I brush it as well as
I can; but I can't do it very well, there's such a lot of it."
"Well, I'll do what I can," said Tinker, and he measured with
thoughtful eye the silken mass, tangled and matted by the sea-water.
He led the way into his room, and set her in a chair, took off his
coat, turned up his sleeves, took his hair brushes, and began upon it.
It was his first essay as coiffeur, but his natural and trained
deftness stood him in good stead. He kept a watchful eye on her face
in the glass, and whenever it puckered, brushed more gently; but, at
times, in his absorption in his task, he so far forgot himself as to
hiss like a groom cleaning a horse. In the middle of it Sir Tancred
came in, and it was significant that he saw Tinker's occupation without
a smile, made no joke upon it, but seemed to take it as the most
natural thing in the world that his son should be discharging a
function of the lady's maid.
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