"For two pins I'd take my retirement; I can claim it; where would they be then?"
This estimable personage shared with thousands the strange superstition that the world cannot do without them.
"This cook is falling off most terribly. The lamb is uneatable, the potatoes are waxy, and the peas like pills. Ugh! I never made a worse lunch!"
A large cigar and the perusal of the long-neglected Times did not pacify him much, and he was still fretting and fuming when his messenger brought in a three-cornered note and asked if there was any reply.
"The lady, sir—a real lady, I should think—'ave brought it in her own bruffam, and was most particular, sir, as you should 'ave it at once."
Mr. Faulks took the letter and examined it carefully.
"From that charming woman, Mrs. Wilders, my cousin, or rather Stanny's cousin; but his relations are mine. I am his uncle; some day, if he lives, I shall be uncle to an earl. They will treat me better perhaps when I have all the Essendine interest at my back. Whippersnappers like this Fothergill will scarcely dare to snub me then. A good lad Stanislas; I always liked him. I wish he was back amongst us, and not at that horrid war."
"The lady, sir, is most anxious, sir, to have a answer," put in the messenger, recalling Mr. Faulks's attention to the letter.
"Ah! to be sure. One moment," and he read the note:—
"Cannot I see you?" it said. "I am oppressed with fears for our dear Stanislas. Do please spare me a few minutes of your valuable time.