At this moment Wilkins approached to inquire if his master wanted anything.
"Is there a Free-Will Meetin'-house in New York?" inquired the clubman.
"Yes, sir; I believe so, sir. That is to say, a Baptist place of worship, sir," he answered solemnly.
"Is that your brother?" inquired Abby.
"No—" hesitated McAllister, doubtful as to what the valet's equivalent would be in his little friend's world.
"What's your name?" inquired Abby.
"Wilkins, miss," answered the valet.
"What a lovely name!" cried Abby. "It's much nicer than his'n."
Wilkins stepped back a few paces aghast.
"That box is chuck full of eggs," announced Abby. "I wonder where the hens get them."