Frank Mallow, who was staring at Rue, while his brother was trying to catch her sister’s eye, turned at this loud grunt and smiled.
“Oh, you’re there!” he exclaimed. “And how is Doctor Vinnicombe?”
“Doctor Vinnicombe is in very good health, and in the best of spirits,” said the doctor, sarcastically, “for one of his old patients has come back, evidently to pay a heavy bill that his father refused to acknowledge.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Frank Mallow.
“And how have you got on, Mr Frank?” said the Churchwarden. “I hope you’ve made a better hit of it than Mr Cyril there, and after all the teaching I gave him about sheep.”
“Better hit? Well, I hope so. Nice fellow he was to come out to the other side of the world, and never call upon his brother.”
“You took precious good care not to let us know your address,” retorted Cyril.
“And what may you have been doing, Mr Frank?” said the Churchwarden, who was beginning to have an uneasy idea that the visitors were not adding to the harmony of the evening, and also recalling the ugly little affairs that had to do with Frank’s departure.
“Doing?”
“Yes; sir; did you try tillage?”