“‘Please, sir, I thought you knew. He is Mrs. Alexander Lyon’s own son, and Mr. and Mrs. Hammond’s and General Lyon’s godson.’
“‘Humph! what’s his name?’ says he.
“‘Master Leonard Lyon, sir,’ says I.
“‘Then as I am Lord Killcrichtoun, he is the Master of Killcrichtoun!’”
“‘Lords and Masters, sir! you don’t say so?’ says I.
“And he frowned at me, black as thunder; but little Lenny began to prattle to him, and he smiled and told me to follow him. And he took us to a fine silversmith’s shop in the Strand, and bought him this whistle. And then he told me to take the boy home to his mother, as it was growing too warm to keep him out in the sun.”
While Pina spoke, Drusilla’s tears fell fast; but she wiped them away and inquired:
“You know, Pina, when we first came here, he was lodging in this house. But I have not seen him lately. Do you know whether he is still here?”
“No, ma’am, he isn’t. I asked that very question of the waiter; and he told me ‘my lord’ had gone and taken apartments at ‘Mivart’s.’”
“We drove him away, I suppose,” muttered Drusilla to herself.