Mr. Kennyfeck looked at his watch, and said it wanted twenty minutes to twelve.
“Has Mr. Linton returned, pa?” asked Miss Kennyfeck.
“I believe not. I have not heard that he has.”
“It would be little loss if he never did!” said Aunt Fanny, as she bit the end of an obstinate thread that would not enter the eye of her needle.
“Oh, Aunt Fanny!” exclaimed Olivia, in a deprecating tone.
“'Pon my word, my dear, them 's my sentiments—whatever yours is.”
“Mr. Cashel certainly thinks differently,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, glad to introduce the name uppermost in all their thoughts.
“I think of late there has been something like a coldness between them—You see them very rarely together. Did Mr. Cashel mention his name to you this morning, Mr. Kennyfeck?” said his wife; and by this sudden question revealing that they knew, at least, where he had been.
“Mere passingly, incidentally,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, evidently amazed that his small mystery had been penetrated; then, after a slight pause, he added, very probably with a sly malice to pique curiosity, “Mr. Cashel is desirous of Mr. Linton's counsel on a step he meditates taking.”
“Indeed, sir; and has he much confidence in Mr. Linton's judgment?”