“And how about the soot?” asked Frere, a light breaking in upon him.
“Please, sir, cook’s been and cleaned it hup while I were gone.”
“I thought so,” returned Frere; “you’re a nice boy!” Then catching him by the collar of his jacket, he continued, “Tell me, you young scamp, how often do you speak the truth?”
The urchin, thus detected, glanced at Frere’s face, and reading there that any attempt to keep up appearances must prove a dead failure, replied with the utmost _sang froid,_ “Please, sir, whenever I can’t think of nothink better.”
“There’s an answer,” returned Frere meditatively. “Well, you need never learn swimming--water won’t harm you; but mark my words, and beware of hemp.” So saying he loosened his hold on the boy’s collar and followed him upstairs.
The tiger, not having recognised Frere in his European habiliments, had merely told his master that a gentleman wished to see him on business; and Bracy, who had reason to expect a visit from a certain literary Don, had rushed into his dressing-room to exchange a very decidedly “fast” smoking-jacket for the black frock-coat of editorial propriety; for which reason Frere was left to entertain himself for a few minutes with his own society. After examining sundry clever caricature sketches of Bracy’s, which evinced a decided talent for that branch of art, Frere seated himself in an easy-chair in front of a writing-table on which lay a mysterious document, written in a bold, dashing hand, which involuntarily attracted his attention. Perceiving at a glance that it contained no private matter, he amused himself by perusing it. For the reader’s edification we will transcribe it:--
The Homeless Heart (Stanzas by L. O. V. E.) . . .1
Hist. Parallels, No. 3 (Cromwell and Cour-de-Lion) . . 7
L’Incomprise (by the Authoress of Inconnue). . .6
Hard Work and Hard Food; or, How would you like it yourself?
Dog-cart Drives (by the Editor), Chap, 10 The Spicey
Screw;” Chap. II, Doing the Governor” . .. 7
The last item in this singular catalogue was written in pencil. “Now I should like to know what all that means,” soliloquised Frere. “Something light about two? A luncheon would come under that definition exactly--two _whats?_ that’s the question! Two pounds? It would not be particularly light if it weighed as much as that. Perhaps the figures stand for money--the prices they pay for the magazine articles, I dare say; 4--6--7. Now, if they happen to be sovereigns, that will suit my young lady’s case very nicely. Ah! here he comes.”