“I suppose he’s down here for fresh air?”
“Yes. He’s very fond of this neighbourhood. Often came here when a boy, I believe.”
“When you go again I’d like to call upon him. We must not allow him to be lonely.”
“I shall call to-morrow. Perhaps you could go with me, after the bank has closed?”
“Yes. At four-thirty. Will you call at the bank for me?”
And so it was arranged.
Punctually at the hour named the Prince stepped from his car before the bank—which was situated in a side street between two shops—and was at once admitted and ushered through to the manager’s room.
Then the pair went on to Rock Terrace to pay the visit. The invalid was much better, and Northover found him a man entirely after his own heart. He was a man of the world, as well as a clergyman.
In the week that followed, Nellie’s father made several visits, and once, on a particularly bright day, the Prince brought the Rev. Thomas round in the car to return the visit at Tinwell Road.
Within ten days the vicar of St. Ethelburga’s, Bayswater, had become quite an intimate friend of the Northovers; so much so, indeed, that they compelled him to give up his rooms in Rock Terrace, and come and stay as their guest. Perhaps it was more for the Prince’s sake they did this—perhaps because they admired Clayton as “a splendid fellow for a parson.”