For an hour or more the conversation was a mixture of poetical quotations, business suggestions, reminiscences of Mr. Gurth Egerton, and tender declarations in Mr. Duck’s shiniest and sweetest manner.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door.
Mrs. Turvey jumped up from her chair and straightened her cap.
‘Who is it?’ exclaimed Mr. Duck, nervously.
‘Why, it must be Topsey,’ said the lady, after a moment’s thought. ‘Dear me! I’d no idea it was so late. I think you’d better go, Mr. Duck.’
‘And when shall I call again, Susan?—for your answer.’
Mr. Duck showed his shiny teeth and rolled his shiny eyes so sweetly that Mrs. Turvey could not resist him any more.
‘To-morrow, Jabez.’
There was a soft sound as of the sudden collision of a pair of lips and a cheek, and then Mrs. Turvey, followed by Mr. Duck, went upstairs to the front door.
It was Topsey brought back. Mr. Duck bade Mrs. Turvey good-night on the steps as though nothing had happened, for Topsey’s sharp little ears were open, and he went off whistling ‘’Tis my delight on a shiny night,’ and Topsey went downstairs with her aunt.