“That is my son, Septimus Snowdon,” answered Ezekiel, with an inflection of pride. It is strange that any one should be proud of such an unfledged cub as Septimus, but Mr. Snowdon was influenced by parental partiality.
Finally the landlord, whose eyes commanded the road outside, saw through the door the approach of Mr. Penrose.
“There’s Mr. Penrose,” he said, “the gentleman your pupil came with, but he is alone.”
“Alone!” repeated Snowdon. “Isn’t the boy with him?”
“No, it seems not. However, he will be here in a minute and you can talk with him.”
Mr. Snowdon advanced to the door, and met Mr. Penrose half way.
“Is this Mr. Penrose?” he asked stiffly.
“The same, Mr. Snowdon.”
“Ha, you know my name?”
“Yes, and I know you. I was once a pupil of yours.”