"Certainly, sir, glad to see you," said Mrs. Gwynn, with another short courtesy.
"The servants not all come? No, nor Ridley with the plate. He'll arrive to-morrow; and—and we shall have the house full in little more than a week. Let us go up and look at the rooms; I forget them almost, by Jove—I really do—it's so long since. Light you another, and we'll do very well."
"You'll see them better by daylight, sir. I kept everything well aired and clean. The house looks wonderful—it do," replied Mrs. Gwynn, accompanying the Baronet up the broad oak stairs.
"If it looks as fresh as you, Donica, it's a miracle of a house—egad! you're a wonder. How you skip by my side, with your little taper, like a sylph in a ballet, egad!"
"You wear pretty well yourself, Sir Jekyl," drily remarked the white-faced sylph, who had a sharp perpendicular line between her eyebrows, indicative of temper.
"So they tell me, by Jove. We're pretty well on though, Donnie—eh? Everyone knows my age—printed, you know, in the red book. You've the advantage of me there—eh, Don?"
"I'm just fifty-six, sir, and I don't care if all the world knewd it."
"All the world's curious, I dare say, on the point; but I shan't tell them, old Gwynn," said Sir Jekyl.
"Curious or no, sir, it's just the truth, and I don't care to hide it. Past that folly now, sir, and I don't care if I wor seventy, and a steppin' like a—"
"A sylph," supplied he.