“Midnight—just after,” said the mill-owner.
“Your wife will be anxious about you, Drinkwater,” said the artist.
“Not she,” was the response. “My wife knows me.”
“Old stupid!” said Will. “As if we didn’t know that! How could she help knowing him when she’s his wife?”
“I wonder your father puts up with him as he does,” said Josh.
“Yes; I often wonder that,” said Will. “But then old Boil O does know such a lot. Look at to-night, for instance. Where should we have been without him?”
“That’s why he thinks he can be disagreeable, I suppose,” said Josh.
The cottage was reached at last, and evidently Mrs Drinkwater had been waiting anxiously all the time. She came hurriedly down the garden path to meet the travellers.
“Oh, Mr Manners,” she said, “you have hurt, yourself!”
“A trifle,” he answered. “But you will know how to treat an injured ankle, Mrs Drinkwater.”