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As soon, however, as he was well out of the glare of gas from the theater door, he crossed the street; and, returning quickly by the opposite side of the way, took the road that led him back to Valentine's house. Mr. Blyth's spirits sank apace, as he bolted and locked the front door, when his guests had left him. He actually sighed as he now took a turn or two alone, up and down the studio.
When, therefore, about three o'clock next morning, he was aroused from sleep by a gentle tap at the outer door of his state-room, Captain Blyth's first coherent thought was: "I wonder what is the matter now!"
"Do not think us inconsiderate or unfeeling," he said, "in pressing Mr. Blyth's offer on you so perseveringly. Only reflect on Mary's position, if she remains in the circus as she grows up!
He went into the back room, where the water was, and busied himself in washing up all the spare crockery of the bachelor household in honor of Mr. Blyth's expected visit.
Blyth's room had been so enlarged, as to extend along the whole breadth of one side of the house, measuring from the front to the back garden windows.
Blyth's head, in quick succession for young Thorpe to catch. "What do you think of our way of dishing up potatoes in Kirk Street?" asked Zack in great triumph. "It's a little sudden when you're not used to it," stammered Valentine, ducking his head as each edible missile flew over him "but it's free and easy it's delightfully free and easy." "Ready there with your plates.
His thoughts were still traveling back cautiously over the ground which they had already explored. Once more, he was pondering on that little circle of plaited hair, having gold at each end, and looking just big enough to go round a woman's wrist, which he had seen in the drawer of Mr. Blyth's bureau.
"Do you think I'm going to stop here all day for the pleasure of hearing you talk to yourself?" As he spoke, he vivaciously rapped his friend on the shoulder with his stick. "Trust me to pave the way for you with Madonna!" he called out mischievously, as he turned back in the direction of Mr. Blyth's house.
There was such an irresistible tenderness in the faint smile that wavered about her lips; such a sadness of innocent beauty in her face, now growing a shade paler than it was wont to be, that Mrs. Blyth's expression became serious the instant their eyes met. She drew the girl forward and kissed her.
Blyth's room, if her husband had not provided himself with the means of paying for it, by accepting a certain professional invitation to the country, which he knew before, and would enable him to face the terrors of the upholsterer's bill. The invitation in question had been sent to him by a clerical friend, the Reverend Doctor Joyce, Rector of St.
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