“No; they're news to me,” replied Tankard. “I never was in Cheshire—never heard of Ouselcroft, or the Calverleys. But the case is not very extraordinary. We do hear occasionally of youngsters getting ruined on the turf, and being disinherited in consequence. It's a piece of luck for the stepmother.”
“Yes; and she's young and handsome!” said Higgins.
Their converse was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Tankard and Tom, both of whom expressed themselves as very glad to see Mr. Higgins.
The lady wore a yellow satin dress, covered with black lace, and a rather showy cap; and Tom had the usual evening dress, with white tie and polished boots.
Tea and coffee had just been brought in by a female servant, when a knock was heard at the side-door, and directly afterwards a very tall, well-powdered footman advanced with stately step into the room, and announced, in agreeable tones, not too loud, but quite loud enough, Mr. Henry Netterville.
Nothing could be more effective than Walter's entrance.
Higgins gazed at him in astonishment. Prepared as he was to behold a fine, tall footman, he had not expected such a well-grown, handsome young fellow as this.
“By Jove! he'll do!” he exclaimed.
Harry Netterville, who was by no means a bad-looking fellow, and no smaller than the rest of his species, was completely dwarfed by the tall footman.
Tankard and his wife expressed their satisfaction in low tones; but the irrepressible Tom gave a little applause.