Miss Duncombe was a lady of limited intellect, and exceedingly young for her age; and everybody was at liberty to laugh at her. They talked on about her for some time, while Humphrey listened with all his might, and then Sir Everard took his leave.
"I'm better now," said Humphrey, as they rode along.
"What! were you not feeling well?" said Sir Everard, alarmed.
"Oh, yes; but I mean about my secret. What makes me feel better is, that I've told it to that lady—Mrs. Colville's sister."
"I don't believe you will ever keep that secret for ten days more. Do you know my birthday is not till Monday week?"
"Oh dear! oh dear! I thought it was much sooner than that. Let's be quick and talk of something else!"
"What shall we talk about? I am expecting two gentlemen down from London to-night, to spend Sunday; and I'm going to meet them at the station, as soon as I have taken you home to your tea. Will that do?"
"Yes, that will do. Are they nice gentlemen?"
"Yes, I think them so: but then tastes differ. Perhaps you won't."