“All right, then!” said D. Wragg; “to-morrow morning, directly arter breakfast, say half arter eight, and that will be nine; and you and Mother Winks will be sure and get a basket all ready.”
D. Wragg took his departure, after an affectionate glance all round at the birds and the rest of his stock-in-trade, while the little Frenchman stood lighting his cigarette with the match handed him by Janet.
“You will stay with Janet?” he said to Patty, as he turned to go.
“Yes; she has promised,” said Janet, quickly; “but you will be back in an hour to paint the birds?”
“Good! yes, in one hour;” and raising his hat, he replaced it, old and pinched of brim, very much on one side, and sauntered out.
The two girls, left now alone, stood silently in the shop for a few minutes, and then entered the back-room, where, in a quiet, pre-occupied manner, Janet commenced arranging cardboard, gum, and various packets of feathers, upon the table; an operation interrupted almost directly by a loud tapping upon the shop-counter.
Patty turned to answer the summons for her friend, but, on reaching the glass-door, she started back, looking pale and anxious.
“Oh, pray go!” she whispered to Janet, whose dark eyes were fixed maliciously upon her.
“So it is the gay cavalier, is it?” laughed Janet, in a harsh angry fashion.
“No, no!” whispered Patty, “but that dreadful man. He follows me, and always comes to the shop when he thinks I am here.”