“Doosed tired, my boy.”
“Why, you look as if you’d seen the chap who drew what’s-his-name’s curtains in the dead of night.”
“Do I—do I, my boy?” stammered the old man; and then to himself, “I feel sure he’ll find me out.”
“Get up, and you shall have a feed, and a glass of good honest wine. That’s the thing to brace you up, dad.”
“Yes—yes, my son. I—I feel—feel as if I’d give anything for a glass of good wine.”
“Come along.”
“I know he’ll find me out,” said his lordship to himself.
“I say, gov’nor,” cried Tom, “here’s a go.”
“Have—have you found them,” said the old man, starting.
“Wait a bit. Perhaps I have. But I say, I’ve found telegrams waiting to say that the old lady is on the way to meet us here.”