"Why, perhaps you'll deny that you wrote and told me all you said," interrupted Titmouse, indignantly, feeling in his pocket for Huckaback's letter, which that worthy had at the moment quite forgotten having sent, and on being reminded of it, he certainly seemed rather nonplussed. "Oh—ay, if you mean that—hem!"—he stammered.
"Come, you know you're a liar, Huck—but it's no good now: liar or no liar, it's all over."
"The pot and kettle, anyhow, Tit, as far as that goes—hem!—but let's spell over this letter; we haven't studied it yet; I'm a hand, rather, at getting at what's said in a letter!—Come"—and they drew their chairs together, Huckaback reading over the letter slowly, alone; Titmouse's eyes travelling incessantly from his friend's countenance to the letter, and so back again, to gather what might be the effect of its perusal.
"There's a glimpse of daylight yet, Titty!" said Huckaback, as he concluded reading it.
"No! But is there really? Do tell me, Hucky"——
"Why, first and foremost, how uncommon polite they are, (except that they haven't manners enough to spell my name right)"——
"Really—and so they are!" exclaimed Titmouse, rather elatedly.
"And then, you see, there's another thing—if they'd meant to give the thing the go-by altogether, what could have been easier than to say so?—but they haven't said anything of the sort, so they don't mean to give it all up!"
"Lord, Huck! what would I give for such a head as yours! What you say is quite true," said Titmouse, still more cheerfully.
"To be sure, they do say there's an obstacle—an obstacle, you see—nay, it's obstacles, which is several, and that"—— Titmouse's face fell.