Blyth,
rather mournfully. "I will only thank you most heartily for your
kindness in sitting to me, and say that I hope to see you again when I
return from the country. Good bye, Zack. I shall start in the morning
by an early train. Pray, my dear boy, be steady, and remember your
mother and your promises, and call on Mr. Strather in good time
to-morrow, and stick to your work, Zack--for all our sakes, stick to
your work!"
As they left the studio, Mat cast one parting glance at the garden
door. Would the servant, who had most likely bolted and locked it early
in the evening, go near it again, before she went to bed? Would Mr.
Blyth walk to the bottom of the room to see that the door was safe,
after he had raked the fire out? Important questions these, which only
the events of the night could answer.
A little way down Kirk Street, at the end by which Zack and his friend
entered it on returning from Mr. Blyth's, stood the local theater--all
ablaze with dazzling gas, and all astir with loitering blackguards.
Young Thorpe stopped, as he and his companion passed under the portico,
on the way to their lodgings further up the street.
"It's only half-past ten, now," he said. "I shall drop in here, and see
the last scenes of the pantomime.
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