"I should. Please thank your sister," said Vernon.
"Anything you fancy? Don't suppose you'll find Nell's books very lively.
She's rather strong on poetry and the 'Heir of Redclyffe' kind of
literature. I'll bring you some of my own with them. Mamma, being a
Wolfer, goes in for the _Fashion Gazette_ and the _Court Circular_,
which won't be much in your line, I expect."
"Not in the least," Mr. Vernon admitted.
"So long, then, till I come back. Sure there's nothing else I can do for
you, sir?"
He went downstairs--availing himself of the invalid's permission to make
a noise by whistling "Tommy Atkins"--and Nell looked in at the French
window, as he swept a row of books from the shelf of the sideboard.
"Dick, what an awful noise!" she said reproachfully, and in the subdued
voice which had become natural with all of them.
"Shut up, Nell; the 'silent period' has now passed. The interesting
invalid has lifted the ban, which was crushing one of us, at least. He
thanks you for your offer of literature, and he has recovered
sufficiently to write a note."
As he spoke he chucked the letter on the table, and Nell took it up and
absently read the address.
"Mr. Sparling, 101 St. James' Place," she read aloud.
"Rather a swell address, isn't it?" he asked. "Interesting invalid looks
rather a swell himself, too. I did him an injustice; there's nothing of
the commercial traveler about him, thank goodness! And he's decidedly
good-looking, too. But isn't he white and shaky! I wonder who and what
he is? Now I come to think of it, he was about as communicative as an
oyster, and left me to do all the palaver. You'll be glad to hear that
he admired your voice, and that he inquired how you passed your time;
also, that he was shocked when I told him that you whiled the dragging
hours away by dancing the cancan, and playing pitch and toss with a
devoted brother."
Nell laughed, and blushed faintly.
"What books are you taking, Dick? Let me see."
"No, you don't! I know the kind of thing you'd send--'The Lessons of
Sickness; or, Blessings in Disguise,' and the 'Pilgrim's Progress.'"
"Don't be an ass, Dick!"
"I'm taking some of my own. Nell, you can post this letter. Yes,
I'll--I'll trust you with it. You'll be a good girl, and not open it, or
drop it on the way," he adjured her, as he climbed upstairs with the
books.