undisturbed nonchalance; "but I have no wish to go to Morley's, although you hold out to me the tempting offer of your agreeable company. My way lies in the opposite direction."
"I know it does, Sir!" cried the Old Boy, as choleric as Mr. Wigan in "The Bengal Tiger": "I know it does! I knew it, Sir—knew it from the first! From the very first moment that I set eyes on you, I said, That rascal 's on his way to Wilton Crescent."
"You must be gifted with the spirit of prophecy, though not of politeness; for I am on my way to Wilton Crescent," was the reply.
The Old Boy was furious at this frank confession. "I knew you were!" he cried; "I knew it! and did n't I forbid you making love to her? didn't I tell you that I would never sanction any tomfoolery of love-making with a girl that won't have as much as will keep her in—in hair-oil, by Jove!" continued the Old Boy, anxious for a striking example in his statement of the presumptive fortune of Miss Fanny Douglas. "Perhaps you are not aware where I am just come from, Mr. Percie?"
"In the first place, Sir," replied the son, "as I am personally unknown to you, I cannot see why you should address a perfect stranger as 'Mr. Percie,' although that name might, perhaps, do as well as any other. But, in the second place, Sir, I think I can give a very shrewd conjecture as to the place from which you have just come,—namely, the Lunatic Asylum; to which place I should advise your speedy return. You are not fit to be trusted without a keeper."
Mr. Percival Wylde said this with perfect gravity, and with the air of pity which any one might be supposed
