of the head from Arabella, which the fat boy considering as hints to be on his guard, expressed his perfect understanding of, by smirking, grinning, and winking, with redoubled assiduity.
"Joe," said Mr. Wardle, after an unsuccessful search in all his pockets, "is my snuff-box on the sofa?"
"No, sir," replied the fat boy.
"Oh, I recollect; I left it on my dressing-table this morning," said Wardle. "Run into the next room and fetch it."
The fat boy went into the next room; and having been absent about a minute, returned with the snuff-box, and the palest face that ever a fat boy wore.
"What's the matter with the boy!" exclaimed Wardle.
"Nothen's the matter with me," replied Joe, nervously.
"Have you been seeing any spirits?" inquired the old gentleman.
"Or taking any?" added Ben Allen.
"I think you're right," whispered Wardle across the table. "He is intoxicated, I'm sure."
Ben Allen replied that he thought he was; and as that gentleman had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle was confirmed in an impression which had been hovering about his mind for half an hour, and at once arrived at the conclusion that the fat boy was drunk.
"Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes," murmured Wardle. "We shall soon find out whether he is or not."
The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words with Mr. Snodgrass: that gentleman having implored him to make a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed him out with the snuff-box, lest his prolonged absence should lead to a discovery. He ruminated a little. with a most disturbed expression of face, and left the room in search of Mary.
But Mary had gone home after dressing her mistress, and the fat boy came back again more disturbed than before.
