“There, run upstairs, and take care you don't catch cold, or I shall never hear the end of it.”
“Father is in bed with mother. He says you are to go up, for if he were to get out of bed it might give him cold. You know his room?”
“Yes, here it is, now run along.”
“Come in.”
Frank was a little shocked, and he waited stupidly on the threshold. He could see a fragment of Mrs. Brookes's profile, and beneath the clothes the outline of Willy's bony body.
“Come in, come in,” he said, “don't stand there filling the room with cold air. Now, what is it? Why the deuce do you come here waking us up at this ungodly hour? What has happened?”
“I have proposed to your sister Maggie.”
“I am sure I am delighted to hear it, old chap; but I can't help thinking that I could have congratulated you equally as well, if not better, in the morning.” Then, noticing the distressed look in Frank's face, he said: “I hope she has not refused you.”
“No; she asked me to wait, she said it would depend—”
“Then you may depend it is all right; now go away and let me go to sleep, we'll talk about it in the morning. You can't get back to-night. You are sleeping in Brighton, I suppose? You'll come and breakfast here?”