"Hullo, you two," she bayed at us.
"Gorgeous morning, isn't it?
Megan, you're just the person I want to see.
I want some help. Addressing envelopes for the Conservative Association."
Megan muttered something elusive, propped up her bicycle against the curb and dived in a purposeful way into the International Stores.
"Extraordinary child," said Miss Griffith, looking after her.
"Bone lazy. Spends her time mooning about.
Must be a great trial to poor Mrs. Symmington.
I know her mother's tried more than once to get her to take up something - shorthand-typing, you know, or cookery, or keeping Angora rabbits.
She needs an interest in life."
I thought that was probably true, but felt that in Megan's place I should have withstood firmly any of Aimйe Griffith's suggestions for the simple reason that her aggressive personality would have put my back up.
"I don't believe in idleness," went on Miss Griffith.
"And certainly not for young people.
It's not as though Megan was pretty or attractive or anything like that.
Sometimes I think the girl's half-witted.
A great disappointment to her mother.
The father, you know," she lowered her voice slightly, "was definitely a wrong 'un.
Afraid the child takes after him.
Painful for her mother. Oh, well, it takes all sorts to make a world, that's what I say."
"Fortunately," I responded.
Aimйe Griffith gave a "jolly" laugh.
"Yes, it wouldn't do if we were all made to one pattern.
But I don't like to see anyone not getting all he can out of life.
I enjoy life myself and I want everyone to enjoy it too.
People say to me you must be bored to death living down there in the country all the year around.
Not a bit of it, I say.
I'm always busy, always happy!
There's always something going on in the country.
My time's taken up, what with my Guides, and the Institute and various committees - to say nothing of looking after Owen."
At this minute, Miss Griffith saw an acquaintance on the other side of the street, and uttering a bay of recognition she leaped across the road, leaving me free to pursue my course to the bank.
I always found Miss Griffith rather overwhelming.
My business at the bank transacted satisfactorily, I went on to the offices of Messrs.
Galbraith, Galbraith and Symmington.
I don't know if there were any Galbraiths extant. I never saw any.
I was shown into Richard Symmington's inner office which had the agreeable mustiness of a long-established legal firm.
Vast numbers of deed boxes labeled Lady Hope, Sir Everard Carr, William Yatesby-Hoares Esq., Deceased, etc., gave the required atmosphere of decorous county families and legitimate, long-established business.
Studying Mr. Symmington as he bent over the documents I had brought, it occurred to me that if Mrs. Symmington had encountered disaster in her first marriage, she had certainly played safe in her second.
Richard Symmington was the model of calm respectability, the sort of man who would never give his wife a moment's anxiety.
A long neck with a pronounced Adam's apple, a slightly cadaverous face and a long thin nose.
A kindly man, no doubt, a good husband and father, but not one to set the pulses madly racing.
Presently Mr. Symmington began to speak.
He spoke clearly and slowly, delivering himself of much good sense and shrewd acumen.
We settled the matter in hand and I rose to go, remarking as I did so:
"I walked down the hill with your stepdaughter."
For a moment Mr. Symmington looked as though he did not know who his stepdaughter was, then he smiled.
"Oh, yes, of course - Megan.
She - er - has been back from school some time.
We're thinking about finding her something to do - yes, to do.
But, of course, she's very young still. And backward for her age, so they say.
Yes, so they tell me."