“Up comes Thally with my Sunday boots as bright as her fair hands could make them, and wanted me to look at a hole she had scraped in them, nor, though I promised to give her my opinion of her handiwork when I came back, was I allowed to depart till she had permission to take them to her ‘fayther.’ ”
Nothing worthy of record passed during the walk to Bristol till the trio reached College Green. Here Louis began to look out for music-shops, while Frank entertained his companions with a running commentary on the shops, carriages, and people. It was a clear, bright day, and Clifton seemed to have poured itself out in the Green.
“Look there, Hamilton, there's a whiskered don! What a pair of moustaches! Hamilton, where is your eye-glass? Here's Trevannion's shadow—was there ever such a Paris! Good gracious! as the ladies say, what a frightful bonnet! Isn't that a love of a silk, Louis? Now, Hamilton, did you ever see such a guy?”
Hamilton was annoyed at these remarks, made by no means in a low tone, and, in his eagerness to change the conversation and get further from Frank, he unfortunately ran against a lady who was getting out of a carriage just drawn up in front of a large linen-draper's shop, much to the indignation of a young gentleman who attended her.
Hamilton begged pardon, with a crimson face; and, as the lady kindly assured him she was not hurt, Louis recognized in her his quondam friend, Mrs. Paget, and darted forward to claim her acquaintance.
The meeting with Mrs. Paget.
“What, Louis! my little Master Louis!” exclaimed the lady; “I did not expect to see you. Where have you come from?”
“I am at school, ma'am, at Dr. Wilkinson's, and I had leave to come out with Hamilton this afternoon. This is Hamilton, ma'am—Hamilton, this is Mrs. Paget.”
“Our rencontre, Mr. Hamilton,” said the lady, “has been most fortunate; for without this contretemps I should have been quite ignorant of Master Louis' being so near—you must come and see me, dear. Mr. Hamilton, I must take him home with me this afternoon.”