Mr. Hilliard joined in it. “I have often heard of him in the city,” he continued; “in fact, I have seen him occasionally. And now, Mr. Touchtone, about these traveling arrangements. Do I understand that you want to leave the city for Halifax by to-morrow’s steamer?”
Philip came out of a brown study. He had been thinking, for one thing, how different Mr. Hilliard was from what he had (quite without warrant) supposed he would be.
“O, certainly,” he replied. “You see, Mr. Saxton expects Gerald by Friday night, and I am taking charge of him—eh, Gerald?—until Mr. Saxton sends to the Waverly Hotel. Besides, I must return to Mr. Marcy as soon as I can.”
“Ah, yes, I see,” said Mr. Hilliard, musingly. “Well, we will all get to town this evening early, I hope, and have a sound sleep; but it would be pleasant if you joined other friends on the Old Province.”
“Perhaps,” answered Gerald; “but you see Philip and I travel by ourselves, so that, if either of us is very seasick, there will be no one to laugh. I couldn’t, and he wouldn’t.”
Philip here recollected an unpaid duty. “I want to thank you, Mr. Hilliard,” he began, “for so kindly taking us in to-night.”
“O, dear, not a bit of trouble,” returned Mr. Hilliard, vivaciously; “but that brings me to explaining a slight dilemma. A fire broke out in our house yesterday. I am a homeless character, for the time being, myself.”
“A fire!” exclaimed both the boys.
“Yes, a fire. You’ve no further use for my note, that I see you have there? Shall I just tear it up, then? I’m like every body else; I love to get hold of a letter I’ve written and put it out of the way.” Glancing at the clean carpet, he dropped the pieces into his pocket. “You see this fire, luckily, wasn’t in my apartment, but overhead. My rooms were a good deal upset.”
“Then, of course, you mustn’t try to take us,” Touchtone exclaimed, wondering that Mr. Hilliard had not entered upon so important an announcement a little sooner. “We’ll go to the hotel.”