“Well, ’pon honour what then?”
“Only this, that if you will come outside the gates, I’ll cane you within an inch of your life.”
“Eh, oh—a perfect savage—a wild beast, ’pon honour,” said the beau, making a precipitate retreat.
“Oh, Harry; dear, dear Harry!” said Albert; “by what kind mercy of Heaven are you here?”
“Albert, do not call me Harry.”
“My own girl, I know you by no other name. I am not surprised to see you in these becoming garments.”
“You—you did not know—”
“That my playmate, Harry, was a beautiful girl,” interrupted Albert. “No—I did not—my father it was who first breathed the suspicion that such was the fact. And now tell me some dear feminine name to call you by.”
“My name is Ada.”
“Ada? A charm is in the sound. My own dear, dear Ada. How came you here—have you thought of me? Where is your uncle? Are you happy—dear Ada, are you glad, to see me?”