“Well, governor,” said Joe Kempshead to Peace, as they were seated at the table in the public room of the hotel, “what’s to be your little game to-day—the exhibition, a morning performance, or what?”
“Haven’t made up my mind, as yet,” returned our hero, putting aside the paper he had been reading. “What are your movements?”
“I am obliged to go into the city—business matters, you know; but in the after part of the day I’m at your service—say about five, or between that hour and six. We can go together somewhere after then, and see what’s to be seen. What say you—shall I meet you here?”
“Yes, I will be here at about six.”
“Let’s have dinner together at that hour, then.”
“Agreed.”
“Then we shall have the evening before us.”
Mr. Kempshead parted with his newly-made acquaintance with this understanding, and proceeded into the city.
Peace bent his steps in the direction of the Kensington Museum.
He had heard a good deal of this place, where he found an almost countless number of objects, which had for him a special interest.