John said he had just carried coffee into the drawing-room, where his
uncle was asking for Master Arthur, and the old man gave a glance of
wonder at the three empty claret-bottles. Smirke said he thought he'd--
he'd rather not go into the drawing-room, on which Arthur haughtily said,
"As you please," and called for Mr. Smirke's horse to be brought round.
The poor fellow said he knew the way to the stable and would get his pony
himself, and he went into the hall and sadly put on his coat and hat.
Pen followed him out uncovered. Helen was still walking up and down the
soft lawn as the sun was setting, and the Curate took off his hat and
bowed by way of farewell, and passed on to the door leading to the stable
court, by which the pair disappeared. Smirke knew the way to the stable,
as he said, well enough. He fumbled at the girths of the saddle, which
Pen fastened for him, and put on the bridle and led the pony into the
yard. The boy was touched by the grief which appeared in the other's face
as he mounted. Pen held out his hand, and Smirke wrung it silently,
"I say, Smirke," he said in an agitated voice, "forgive me if I have said
anything harsh--for you have always been very, very kind to me.
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