“I am not sure,” replied Mr. Russell, “that Mr. Howard’s first object in reading is to improve his style; but,” added he, turning to the title-page, and pointing to Franklin’s name, “you, perhaps, did not know—”
“Oh, Dr. Franklin’s works,” interrupted Supine: “I did not see the name before—to be sure I must bow down to that.”
Having thus easily satisfied Mr. Supine’s critical scruples by the authority of a name, Mr. Russell rose to depart, as he perceived that there was no chance of getting rid of the idlers.
“What are you going to do with yourself, Russell?” said Mr. Supine; “we’ll walk with you, if you are for walking, this fine evening; only don’t let’s walk like penny postmen.”
“But he’s in a hurry,” said Oliver; “he’s going to see a poor woman.”
“A poor woman!” said Supine; “down this close lane too!”
“Oh, let’s see all that’s to be seen,” whispered Holloway; “ten to one we shall get some diversion out of it: Russell’s a quiz worth studying, and Howard’s his ditto.”
They came to the gardener’s house. Holloway’s high spirits suddenly subsided when he beheld the figure of the mulatto woman.
“What’s the matter?” said Oliver, observing that he started; “why did you start so?”
“Tell Howard I want to speak one word with him, this instant, in the street; bid him come out to me,” whispered Holloway; and he hastily retreated before the poor woman saw his face.