“Oh—don’t say that.”
“Go away at once. You’ve got your answer—so now be off.”
Cooney sallied forth, and the door was slammed to the moment he had passed out of the house.
He took the answer he had received to his pal, Bill Rawton, who tore open the envelope, and drew forth a slip of paper, on which was written these words—
“If you desire to see me, call to-morrow evening at about half-past seven.”
“That’s all right,” cried the gipsy. “I’ll be there.”
“She aint altogether the most amiable girl I’ve met with,” observed Cooney.
“Who aint?”
“Why the maid-servant. But she’s jolly good-looking, and I ’xpect she knows it.”
“You haven’t been fool enough to chaff the doctor’s servant? Why, she’s a most respectable, well-behaved young woman.”