And there was another and a worse.
Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man?
Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd.

A garishly illuminated van was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the largest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen protruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of the driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing.
'It is not for us,' the girl was saying.

'I beg you to take it away; it couldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the van.' 'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M.Finsbury can arrange with the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman.
'But I am not M.Finsbury,' expostulated the girl.
'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman.
'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon, putting out his hand.
Julia gave a little cry of pleasure.

'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, 'I am so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have come here by mistake, into the house.

The man says we'll have to take off the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by the Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the pavement.' The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or gazing at the door of No.