“Ay, what was that?” inquired Wilfred Goldsmith, eagerly. “Tell us about it, Shortshanks” (an elegant Tickletonian sobriquet for Hugh): “I like to hear of shindies.”
Thus appealed to, Hugh, nothing loth, proceeded to give a full, true, and particular account of the adventure; which, as Ernest was aware that he must have derived his information originally from the Rosebud herself, he listened to with a quiet smile,—more particularly when he heard himself described asa tall and graceful young man, of singularly prepossessing appearance.
“Well, it was a plucky thing well done, and I give you credit for it, Mr. Carrington,” was Wilfred’s comment, as Hugh concluded.
“Really I’m quite overpowered,” returned Ernest, with an affectation of extreme humility: “my poor exertions were a great deal too humble to deserve an eulogium from Mr. Wilfred Goldsmith.” Wilfred, who since we last heard of him had altered only by becoming in every respect “rather more so,” winced slightly, for he knew that Ernest was laughing at him:—lest any one else should make the same discovery, he hastened to divert attention by attacking his fair relative.
“You must have been finely astonished, Cousin Emily,” he said, “when you recognised the interesting knight-errant-peeping over the pulpit-cushion.”
“Did you know him again directly, Emmy?” inquired Hugh.
“Of course she did,” rejoined Wilfred. “Do you think she did not dream of the features of her gallant deliverer twice a week regularly for the next half year, at least?”
“Indeed, I did nothing of the kind, you absurd boy!” exclaimed the Rosebud, eagerly. “As well as I remember, I did happen to recognise Mr. Carrington, but I really wonder that I should have done so; for I was so dreadfully frightened on the first occasion, that I could think of nothing but the horrible man who had attempted to take my money and as the proud Puss uttered this slightly apocryphal statement, she gave her head a little pettish toss, which meant a great deal, and expressed its meaning unmistakably—at least so thought Ernest Carrington; and the grave expression of his face became graver than ever.
“Talking of falling among thieves,” began Mr. Slowkopf, addressing Ernest, “reminds me of the last time I met you.”
“Complimentary, very,” muttered Wilfred, sotto voce.