'Nick, you are the most consoling friend,' groaned the Parson, who now wished for tears more than anything else in the world. 'What is she doing?'
'Nothing at all. She is sitting at the table. George, have you ever noticed her chin? It is a sort of decisive chin, and upon my word, George, it has the ugliest jilting look that ever I saw. She has just the same look in her big grey eyes, which are staring at nothing at all. Keep still, George, or you will throw me.'
For the Parson was become as uneasy as a restive horse.
'But, Nick, is she doing nothing at all? Is she reading?'
'No, she is doing nothing but expect you. But she is expecting you. Steady, for if I tumble off your shoulders the noise will bring her to the windows.'
The menace had its effect. Mr. Kelly's limbs became pillars of marble, and Wogan again looked into the room.
'Wait a moment,' he said, 'I see what she is doing. She is staring at something she holds in her hands.'
'My likeness?' cried the Parson hopefully. 'To be sure it will be that.'
'I will tell you in a moment. Hold on to the railings, George.'
George did as he was bid, and Wogan, still holding to the window-sill very cautiously, stood up on his friend's shoulders. George, however, seemed quite insensible to Mr. Wogan's weight.