“You are quite right; and I ought to have known better. He took the letter, and delivered it to the aunt. Smithson, I am in agony! She has responded to me, thinking my words were meant for her. I walked by there an hour ago and saw her, and—oh, Smithson!—she smiled. What is to be done?”
Dick was silent for a minute, not knowing how to answer the question; then a way out of the difficulty came.
“I’ll tell you, sir! You must discharge that fellow.”
“I did, Smithson—at once. I was in such a rage that I kicked him; and I fear that there will be some trouble about that, if he reports it to his superior officer.”
“Pooh! Give him half a sovereign, sir, and you’ll hear no more about it.”
“That’s very good advice, Smithson. I wish I had your head.”
“You want a good, clever, smart servant, sir,” said Dick, who was breathless with excitement consequent upon his new idea.
“Yes, Smithson; but such a treasure seems to be unobtainable.”
“I don’t know—I think I could find you such a man, sir.”
“You could! Oh, no; I want a regular valet, Smithson. I have grown sadly indolent, and I often wish a war would break out to rouse me up.”