“I’m sure you do,” said the Prophet, with some pressure.
She stood still for a moment. Then, catching the attentive round eye of Gustavus, who was waiting by the hall door, she shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the staircase.
“It’s very hard lines,” she murmured as she began to ascend: “all the questions you wanted to ask are being answered. You know I’m Miss Minerva already. In another minute you’ll know who the old gentleman was that—”
The Prophet could tell from the expression of her straight, slightly Scottish, back that she was pouting as she entered the drawing-room where Mrs. Merillia was having tea with—somebody.
CHAPTER VI
THE OLD ASTRONOMER DISCOURSETH OF THE STARS
Never before had the Prophet felt so alive with curiosity as he did when he followed Lady Enid into Mrs. Merillia’s presence, for he knew that he was about to see the venerable victim of the young librarian’s indignant chivalry, the “old gent” who had come to intimate terms with Jellybrand’s bookcase, and who had kicked and knocked at least a pint of paint off Jellybrand’s door. His eyes were large and staring as he glanced swiftly from his grandmother’s sofa to the huge telescope, under whose very shadow was seated no less a personage than Sir Tiglath Butt, holding a cup of tea on one hand and a large-sized muffin in the other.
No wonder the Prophet jumped. No wonder Mrs. Merillia cried out, in her pretty, clear voice,—
“Take care of Beau, Hennessey! You’re treading on him.”