De Roos looked on his peculiarly delicate white hand and fingers and sighed heavily.
"And then," proceeded Leinster, "we took our breakfast, which consisted of thick slices of bread with a little salt butter. After that we had three large books placed before us, in which we were desired to read for five hours, taking down notes of whatever struck us most forcibly. At dinner, which consisted one day of a roast joint, the next of the same, hashed; the third, ditto, minced; our society was enlivened by the three Miss Smiths!"
"What sort of animals were they?" inquired Julia, laughing.
"The eldest, Miss Jemima, wore a sort of a false rump, sticking out so," and Leinster put himself into a most ludicrous attitude.
To my question, whether she was pretty, he answered, that her face was a little too much like a dead horse for a perfect beauty.
"Gorgons, all three of them, and the youngest turned of thirty," said De Roos, with a heavy groan.
"But then," interrupted Julia, "Mr. De Roos is not going to live with Mr. Smith."
"True," continued De Roos, "and, surely, there cannot be another such a vile place in the world take it all together, cleaning boots, and the Miss Smiths, and all?"
"No," I answered, "you must hope the best, and recollect that merely being minus the Miss Smiths is something."