When they returned all traces of the symposium had been removed, and the cloth laid ready for the early breakfast, which Blount trusted nothing would occur to prevent him from consuming.
On the plate at the head of the table, near the fire-place, was a half-sheet of notepaper, on which was written in bold characters:
“Dear Sir,—The groom will call you at five sharp, breakfast at 5.30. Coach leaves at six. I’ve got you the box seat.
“Yours truly,
“Sheila.”
“That’s a fine girl,” said the landlord, “she’s got ‘savey’ enough for a dozen women; and as for work, it’s meat and drink to her. The missus is afraid she’ll knock herself out, and then we’ll be teetotally ruined and done for. I hope she won’t throw herself away on some scallowag or other.”
“Yes! it would be a pity. I take quite an interest in her. But she has too much sense for that, surely?”
“I don’t know,” answered the landlord, gloomily, “the more sense a woman has, the likelier she is to fancy a fool, if he’s good-looking, that’s my tip. Good-night, sir. I’ll be up and see you off. Old George will call you.”
“Oh! I shall be up and ready, thank you.”
The landlord, however, having exceptional opportunities of studying human nature, warned old George to have the gentleman up at 5 a.m. sharp, which in result was just as well. For Blount being too excited from various causes to sleep, had tossed and tumbled about till 3 a.m., when he dropped into a refreshing slumber, so sound that George’s rat-tat-tat, vigorous and continued on his bedroom door, caused him to dream that all the police of the district, headed by Mr. Bruce and Black Paddy, had come to arrest him, and were battering down the hotel in order to effect a capture.