“That,” said Panky, “will explain everything,” and he went contentedly away.
My father talked a little aside with Mrs. Humdrum about her grand-daughter and George, for Yram had told him that she knew all about the attachment, and then George, who saw that my father found the greatest difficulty in maintaining an outward calm, said, “Mr. Higgs, the streets are empty; we had better go.”
My father did as Yram had told him; shook hands with every one, said all that was usual and proper as briefly as he could, and followed George out of the room. The Mayor saw them to the door, and saved my father from embarrassment by saying, “Mr. Higgs, you and I understand one another too well to make it necessary for us to say so. Good-bye to you, and may no ill befall you ere you get home.”
My father grasped his hand in both his own. “Again,” he said, “I can say no more than that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
As he spoke he bowed his head, and went out with George into the night.
CHAPTER XXV: GEORGE ESCORTS MY FATHER TO THE STATUES; THE TWO THEN PART
The streets were quite deserted as George had said they would be, and very dark, save for an occasional oil lamp.
“As soon as we can get within the preserves,” said George, “we had better wait till morning. I have a rug for myself as well as for you.”
“I saw you had two,” answered my father; “you must let me carry them both; the provisions are much the heavier load.”
George fought as hard as a dog would do, till my father said that they must not quarrel during the very short time they had to be together. On this George gave up one rug meekly enough, and my father yielded about the basket, and the other rug.