Larkington's anxiety had no reference to the weather, or to the prospects of the picnic, but was centred in the small and dainty billet which his quick eye already detected in the hand of Stirrups, who appeared on the horizon, bearing down for the hotel.
Stirrups, a hideous little gnome of a groom, was dressed in a neat and precise livery, and walked gravely and composedly up to the side entrance of the hotel, giving a glance at the small window in the third story where he had rightly expected to see Larkington's face.
He passed through the hall and up the first flight of stairs with the slow and condescending step which these gentlemen of the rumble affect when they are obliged to touch the vulgar earth with their feet, being used to be carried by the swiftest steeds and driven by the fairest of ladies. In the upper corridor he saw no one, nor on the stairs above or below, and at once, losing the grand air and his slow step, he ran up the next two flights, taking three steps at a time, and
