"We are always well," sighed Mrs. Edmonstone.
"And Maurice?"
"Maurice was never brisker."
"Lucky dog!" said Dick, involuntarily; and the bitterness was back in his tone before he knew it.
"Your friend Mr. Flint," said Mrs. Edmonstone, "is Maurice's friend now, and Mr. Flint finds all his friends in good spirits."
"Do you mean to say old Jack is doing the absentee landlord altogether? Did he never go back?"
"Yes. But he is over again—he is in town just now," said Mrs. Edmonstone.
"He's fast qualifying for buckshot, that fellow," said Dick, with light irony.
"I rather fancy," observed Fanny, with much indifference, "that you will see him this evening. I half think he is coming back with Maurice." And Miss Fanny became profoundly interested in the world out of the window.
"Good!" cried Dick; and there was a ring of sincerity in that monosyllable which ought to have made it appreciated—as much as a diamond in a dustheap!