“Not a bit of it!” broke in Hunter, who remarked nothing of the roguish drollery of old Peter's eye, nor even suspected that the speech was made in mockery. “Master Fred is coming with me into Kilkenny this morning, for a visit to the Dean, or whatever he is, who dispenses those social handcuffs they call licenses.”
“Why, they were quarrelling all the morning,” repeated Harrington.
“So we were, sir, and so we mean to do for many a year,” said Josephine; “and to keep us in countenance, I hear that General Hunter and Polly have determined to follow our example.”
“What do I hear, Miss Dill?” said Miss Barrington, with an affected severity.
“I'm afraid, madam, it is true; there has been what my father calls 'a contagious endemic' here lately, and we have both caught it; but ours are mild cases, and we hope soon to recover.”
“What's this I see here?” cried Fred, who, to conceal his shame, had taken up the newspaper. “Listen to this: 'The notorious Stapylton, alias Edwardes, whose case up to yesterday was reported all but hopeless, made his escape from the hospital, and has not since been heard of. It would appear that some of the officials had been bribed to assist his evasion, and a strict inquiry will be immediately set on foot into the affair.'”
“Do you think he has got over to France?” whispered Peter to Withering.
“Of course he has; the way was all open, and everything ready for him!”
“Then I am thoroughly happy!” cried Barrington, “and there's not even the shadow of a cloud over our present sunshine.”
THE END.