So Billy is allowed to express himself for the rest of the evening in the way most natural to him, and shows his gratitude by making ample use of his liberty.
Presently the elder lady disappears, and returns in a minute or two with the information that dinner is ready, an announcement which Billy greets with the laconic ejaculation, “Proper!”
It is a cheery Christmas dinner that. The elderly gentleman is rather quiet, and so is the young gentleman called Fred, who looks a great deal oftener at the young lady than he does at the plate before him. But the others make up in fun and chatter for the silence of these two, and as the meal goes on the good spirits of the party rise all round.
“This is rather better than Drury Lane, eh, Jack?” says Fred.
“Rather,” says Jack. “The only fear is about its being too far away for father.”
“Not at all,” says the elder gentleman. “I’m better already for the walk every day. You’ve no idea how agreeable the streets are at three o’clock every morning.”
“Do you remember our first walk out this way, Fred,” says Jack, “when we tried to find out Flanagan?”
“Yes, I do, indeed. We missed him, but we found Billy instead.”
“Yaas, and you was a nice pair of flats, you was, when I fust comed across you,” observes Billy, who, I regret to say, has not quite finished his mouthful of plum-pudding before he speaks.
“They’re pulling down the court, I see, Billy,” says Fred.