Galloping Dick
there, I know not how, ran suddenly in my head. But I was my own master, in despite of this; and though, for sure, I felt like whistling, instead, keeping a very demure face, and answering his look with mere surprise, I said: “What is it?” said I. “You ha’nt been robbed?”
He glared at me speechless half-risen in his seat, and occupied in gulping his emotion.
“Faith!” I said, with a grin, “an’ you present the lady with the letter in a face like that, I’ll warrant you, she shall have a fit, and you a beating from your master.”
He gave vent to a snort of relief, as it seemed, and fell back in his chair, pretty limp. “Ha’ some more wine,” says I, cheerfully. He gulped down a draught, and the colour ran into his cheeks again. He even looked at me with a sickly grin.
“I feared,” said he, “I had forgot the billet-doux."
“Ha, ha!” says I in a manner of raillery, “sink me! but you’re a fine rascal for a love-sick gentleman. And I’ll swear, too, ’tis no less
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