“And that is all we do mean when we talk about that of which we can know nothing,” said the doctor, less gallantly than usual, for he resented that epithet of “old-fashioned,” as applied to the watch.
Leonard, we see, had been silent all this time; he could not speak,—literally and truly, he could not speak. How he got out of his embarrassment and how he got out of the room, he never explained to my satisfaction. But a few minutes afterwards, he was seen hurrying down the road very briskly.
Riccabocca and his wife stood at the window gazing after him.
“There is a depth in that boy’s heart,” said the sage, “which might float an argosy.”
“Poor dear boy! I think we have put everything into the knapsack that he can possibly want,” said good Mrs. Riccabocca, musingly.
THE DOCTOR (continuing his soliloquy).—“They are strong, but they are not immediately apparent.”
MRS. RICCABOCCA (resuming hers).—“They are at the bottom of the knapsack.”
THE DOCTOR.—“They will stand long wear and tear.”
MRS. RICCABOCCA.—“A year, at least, with proper care at the wash.”
THE DOCTOR (startled).—“Care at the wash! What on earth are you talking of, ma’am?”