"Does he live far from here?"
"At Hampstead Heath—it will take us an hour to drive there."
"And did he send the char à bancs especially for my benefit?"
"Not really—but naturally he did."
"Then I will go with you, sir."
He put on his cap slowly and followed the curate into the street—one of the girls racing after them to say that they had forgotten to pay the bill. "And a pretty sort of clergyman you must be, to be sure," was her reflection—to the curate's blushing annoyance and his quite substantial indignation.
"I find much impertinence in this part of the world," he remarked as they retraced their steps toward the West; "as if the girl did not know that it was an accident."
"We pay for what we eat down here," Alban rejoined dryly; "it's a good plan as you would discover if you tried it, sir."
Mr. Geary looked at the boy for an instant as though in doubt whether he had heard a sophism or a mere impertinence. This important question was not, however, to be decided; for a neat single brougham edged toward the pavement at the moment and a little crowd collected instantly to remark so signal a phenomenon.
"Your carriage, sir?" Alban asked.