"Well, are we fixtures too?"
"You know what I came for, George. If Tom will go, I will, and thankful."
"Tom," said the gentleman, as Tom at this minute came out of the house, "have you got enough of Appledore?"
"I don't care about Appledore. It's the fishing." Tom, I may remark, had been a good deal out in a fishing-boat during this past week. "That's glorious."
"But you don't care for fishing, old boy."
"O, don't I!"
"No, not a farthing. Seriously, don't you think we might mend our quarters?"
"You can," said Tom. "Of course I can't go while Mrs. Wishart is sick.
I can't leave those two women alone here to take care of themselves.
You can take Julia and my mother away, where you like."
"And a good riddance," muttered Lenox, as the other ran down the steps and went off.
"He won't stir," said Julia. "You see how right I was."