“Don’t you say anything about it to a soul—mind you that.”
“I will not.”
“Not to the women of this house, or Willie.”
“Oh, dear me, no; I shouldn’t think of such a thing. She may still be able to pull through.”
“I hope so, I’m sure. Well I never—blowed if this hasn’t queered me and no mistake.”
“Let’s have some grog, old man. It’s put my pipe out—to-morrow morning, you say?”
“Yes—by the early train. You will be able to learn more then, for of course she’s obliged to be a little pinched in her letter to me, which commences with “My dear brother.”
The gipsy burst out into a loud laugh.
“That’s a caulker,” said he. “She looks a deal more like your daughter, old man.”
“There isn’t the least doubt of that. She looks wonderfully young, all things considered.”