"It is, doubtless, my good friend Professor Owlsdarck," said Colonel
Prowley,--courteously rebuking an exclamation of astonishment from his
sister, who had gone to the window;--"to be sure, we did not expect him
to-day, but he is ever a most welcome guest."
"But it is _not_ Professor Owlsdarck!" cried the sister, in shrillest
tones of feminine amazement. "That portly figure to which the pencil of
the artist has done such feeble justice! the spectacles with the square
glasses! the enormous seal of the Sextons!--it can be but one man!"
"What! you don't mean"----
"Yes, but I _do_ mean! Come and see for yourself!"
"A ghost in an omnibus! Why, sister, sister, the
Detached--what-you-may-call-it has got into your head,--or, heavens! can
it be that our unbelief is punished with this frightful manifestation?"
"It is Sir Joseph Barley himself!" ejaculated Miss Prowley.
"Surrounded by his bank of silver-tunicked attendants?" gasped the
Colonel, in desperate interrogation.
"No, no, nothing of the kind," said Dr. Burge, assuringly; "he has not
brought even a footman."
And it _was_ Sir Joseph Barley,--in the flesh,--and in a good deal of
it, too;--Sir Joseph Barley, full to overflowing with talk and
compliments. He had long planned a journey to America, and a surprise to
his Fellow-Sexton in Foxden.
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