"Arthur," said she, "I never told you that you'd forgotten to wind up
that clock on Sunday night. It stopped this evening while you were out,
and I had to wind it and I only guessed what the time was."




CHAPTER XII

THE PRACTICE OF IDLENESS

I


At ten minutes to eleven the next morning Mr. Prohack rushed across the
pavement, and sprang head-first into the original Eagle (now duly
repaired) with the velocity and agility of a man long accustomed to the
fact that seconds are more precious than six-pences and minutes than
banknotes. And Carthew slammed the door on him like a conjuror
performing the final act of a trick before an audience of three thousand
people.

Mr. Prohack was late. He was late on this the first full day of his
career as a consciously and scientifically idle man. Carthew knew that
his employer was late; and certainly the people in his house knew that
he was late. Mr. Prohack's breakfast in bed had been late, which meant
that his digestive and reposeful hour of newspaper reading was thrown
forward. And then he had actually been kept out of his own bathroom,
through the joint fault of Sissie and her mother, who had apparently
determined to celebrate Sissie's definite release from the dance-studio,