erated 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."

"Then I trust they were not packed off on purpose that you might not see
them?" observed the young poet.

"Quite the reverse, Vernon, I assure you, for I'm quite confident they
were so packed off in order that they mightn't see me."

"You surprise me indeed--can it be possible that one so affable and
open-hearted as our squire here appears to be, should hesitate to let
his daughters see so harmless a specimen of the human race as my
particular friend Mr Francis Trevelyan? But ah! I see how it is," Vernon
continued, and his countenance fell as he said so. "I see how it is--he
doubts our being gentlemen; a circumstance quite sufficient to account
for the absence of the young ladies."

"Don't let that notion trouble you," interposed our little hero; "your
particular friend, Mr Francis Trevelyan, as you have been pleased to
style him, has removed every unfavourable impression a first glance of
your two yards of humanity might have produced--you know the old saying,
'Show me your associates and I'll tell you what you are.'"

"Then," interposed Vernon, "the impression here must be, that I'm one of
the most impudent dogs living."

"Nothing of the kind," resumed Frank; "that is, if they judge of you by
your humble servant, whom they consider an exceedingly modest young man,
which was the s