“Last time we were down here together, Dick, I was one of the most miserable little beggars under the sun. I don’t mind owning it now.”
His friend grew more attentive.
“You were happy then, old fellow, and very hard you tried to make others so too, but I was miserable.”
“Why?”
“Because I was poor—a perfect beggar, without a prospect of rising, and I had found out that in this queer little body of mine there was a very soft heart. Dick, old boy, the wheel of fortune has given a strange turn since then. I’ve gone up and you have gone down, and ’pon my soul, old fellow, I’m very, very sorry.”
“Nonsense, Franky,” said Richard, speaking cheerfully. “If ever a man was glad, I am, at your prosperity. But you don’t look so very cheerful, after all.”
“How can I?” said Frank, dolefully, “with you on my mind for one thing, and the lion’s mouth gaping for my unlucky head.”
“Lion’s mouth?”
“Yes, Dick; I’m going to Tolcarne to pop my head in; and, to make matters worse, there’s a horrible, sphinxy griffin sits and guards the lion’s den.”
“You mean that you are going to propose for little Fin?”