There they paused while entering the house and going upstairs; but no sooner were they in the barrack, which was certainly insufferably hot, than Lance returned to the charge.
'But when is he coming? Not Fernan—he's an old story!'
'Yes,' said Felix, walking up to Wilmet to fold together the corners of the sheets they were stripping from Lance's bed, and looking into her eyes so archly as to bring up an incarnadine blush, 'I want particularly to improve my acquaintance, if you don't.—What shall we do, Lance?'
'Advertise in Pur,' suggested Lance. 'The editor returned. Young men may apply!'
'Don't, boys!' exclaimed Wilmet, in tones belonging to bygone days, when neither she nor Felix had been too serious to tease or be teased. 'He is much better than you,' she added, with a pretty confused petulance, when Felix put on a pleading inquisitive face. 'When he found we didn't like it, he went away to visit his uncle.'
'Better than we! There, Lance!' said Felix, in a gratified provoking tone of discovery.
'In one sense,' said Wilmet, walking down before him.
'I am very glad you have found it out,' added Felix, as they entered Mr. Froggatt's cool well-blinded bedroom, the only well-furnished one in the house.
'It is no laughing matter,' said Wilmet seriously.
'That's well,' was the dry answer.