'He is shooting in Yorkshire,' said Tom. 'Sent Loo a basket half
as big as a church, yesterday.'
'The kind of gentleman, now,' said Mrs. Sparsit, sweetly, 'whom one
might wager to be a good shot!'
'Crack,' said Tom.
He had long been a down-looking young fellow, but this
characteristic had so increased of late, that he never raised his
eyes to any face for three seconds together. Mrs. Sparsit
consequently had ample means of watching his looks, if she were so
inclined.
'Mr. Harthouse is a great favourite of mine,' said Mrs. Sparsit,
'as indeed he is of most people. May we expect to see him again
shortly, Mr. Tom?'
'Why, I expect to see him to-morrow,' returned the whelp.
'Good news!' cried Mrs. Sparsit, blandly.
'I have got an appointment with him to meet him in the evening at
the station here,' said Tom, 'and I am going to dine with him
afterwards, I believe. He is not coming down to the country house
for a week or so, being due somewhere else. At least, he says so;
but I shouldn't wonder if he was to stop here over Sunday, and
stray that way.
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