"Pshaw," said Vernon impatiently, "and is that all you have to tell me? I really fancied you had heard or seen something."
"And so I have," rejoined Frank.
"Whom, then? eh! Do tell me!" demanded Vernon, eagerly.
"Timothy," replied Frank.
"Timothy!" reiterated the poet.
"Ay, Timothy, to be sure; what d'ye think of that, Mr Vernon Wycherley?"
"Why, it leads me to hope," replied that gentleman, "that we may meet the ladies themselves ere long, or"—
No or in the matter," interrupted Frank; "I've made up my mind to meet them both at breakfast this very morning; and no mistake, as our gallant little friend the major says—for I'm pretty certain those lovely birds of paradise roosted last night somewhere or other about the premises."
"But as you say you've seen Timothy, haven't you been able to get any thing out of him?"
"No," replied Frank; "for as all his business seems to be confined to out-of-doors work, he only came once or twice into the room where we were upon some trifling excuse or other; but, in reality, I've no doubt to have a peep at your humble servant, whom the rogue instantly recognised; and when no one was looking, he tipped me a sly wink of the eye, at the same time pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, and directing his eyes towards the ceiling, thereby indicating, as I thought, that those I wished the most to see had already betaken themselves to bed."