‘Answer,’ said Newman. ‘Bearer waits.’
‘True,’ replied old Arthur. ‘Yes—yes; I almost forgot, I do declare.’
‘I thought you were forgetting,’ said Newman.
‘Quite right to remind me, Mr. Noggs. Oh, very right indeed,’ said Arthur. ‘Yes. I’ll write a line. I’m—I’m—rather flurried, Mr. Noggs. The news is—’
‘Bad?’ interrupted Newman.
‘No, Mr. Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best of news. Sit down. I’ll get the pen and ink, and write a line in answer. I’ll not detain you long. I know you’re a treasure to your master, Mr. Noggs. He speaks of you in such terms, sometimes, that, oh dear! you’d be astonished. I may say that I do too, and always did. I always say the same of you.’
‘That’s “Curse Mr. Noggs with all my heart!” then, if you do,’ thought Newman, as Gride hurried out.
The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully about him for an instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to know the result of the design he had overheard from his office closet, caught it up and rapidly read as follows:
‘Gride.
‘I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the day after tomorrow (as you suggested) for the marriage. There is no objection on his part, and all days are alike to his daughter. We will go together, and you must be with me by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punctual.