Then came walks, and an occasional ride into the country, and soon afterwards Frank Pratt called upon his old friend, to find him leading Netta quietly into the Jenkles’s house, and Pratt stood whistling for a moment before knocking at Mrs Fiddison’s door, and asking leave to wait till his friend came across.
Mrs Fiddison had a widow’s cap cocked very rakishly over one ear, and she further disarranged it to rub the ear as she examined the visitor, before feeling satisfied that he had no designs on any of the property in the place, and admitting him to Richard’s sanctum.
At the end of half an hour Richard came over.
“Ah, Franky!” he exclaimed, “this is a pleasure.”
“Is it?” said Pratt.
“Is it?—of course it is; but what are you staring at?”
“You. Seems a nice girl over the way.”
“Poor darling!—yes,” said Richard, earnestly.
“Got as far as that, has it?” said Pratt, quietly.
“I don’t understand you,” said Richard, staring hard.