"N—no," said Frank, "n—not at all."
"Just what we were needing—a little blow-out in London, eh?"
Frank gave a little nervous laugh.
"Do you really mean it?"
Mr. Walkingshaw was now standing in front of the fire, alternately rising on tiptoe and thumping down on his heels.
"Don't I just! When shall we start—to-morrow morning?"
"To-morrow! But I haven't done any packing."
"Well, no more have I. We'll just chuck in a few things and buy anything else we want in London. I need practically a new outfit myself. Can you introduce me to a good tailor?"
"Ye—es," stammered Frank.