“I don’t know,” was the lady’s lofty reply. “My brother has much business on hand.”
“No doubt, ma’am; but—but—”
At this point “Cobbler” Horn himself came to the door, and Miss Jemima retreated into the house.
“Good morning, Tommy,” said “Cobbler” Horn heartily, “step in.”
“Thank you, Mr. Horn,” was the modest reply, “I’m afraid I can’t. Business presses, you know. But I’ve just come to congratulate you if I may make so bold. Brother would have come too; but he’s minding the twins. It’s washing day, you see. He’ll pay his respects another time.”
John Dudgeon had been married for some years, and amongst the troubles which had varied for him the joys of that blissful state, there had recently come the crowning calamity of twins—an affliction which would seem to have run in the Dudgeon family.
“We are glad you have inherited this vast wealth, Mr. Horn,” said Tommy Dudgeon. “We think the arrangement excellent. The ways of Providence are indeed wonderful.”
“Cobbler” Horn made suitable acknowledgment of the congratulations of his humble little friend.
“There is only one thing we regret,” resumed the little man; “and that is that your change of fortune will remove you to another sphere.”
“Cobbler” Horn smiled.