sorry; but I knew there was a coach from your part of the country at midday, and I thought you would come by that one. The fact is, I have been out on your account, — not that that is any excuse, — for I thought, coming from the country, you might like a little fruit after dinner, and I went to Covent Garden Market to get it good.”
For a reason that I had, I felt as if my eyes would start out of my head.
I acknowledged his attention incoherently, and began to think this was a dream.
“Dear me!” said Mr. Pocket, Junior. “This door sticks so!”
As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the door while the paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him to allow me to