It was about four o’clock one afternoon, while Charles was smoking a cigar—for notwithstanding his self-denying resolutions, his case was always replenished still—that his brother Harry rode into the yard, where he was puffing away contemplatively at an open stable door.

“Delighted to see you, Harry, I was thinking of you this moment, by Jove, and I can’t tell you how glad I am,” said Charles, smiling as he advanced, yet with an anxious inquiry in his eyes.

Harry took his extended hand, having dismounted, but he was looking at his horse, and not at Charles, as he said—

“The last mile or so I noticed something in the off fore-foot; do you? Look now—t’aint brushing, nor he’s not gone lame, but tender-like; do you notice?” and he led him round a little bit.

“No,” said Charles, “I don’t see anything, but I am an ignoramus, you know—no—I think, nothing.”

“’Taint a great deal, anyhow,” said Harry, leading him toward the open stable-door. “I got your note, you know, and how are you all, and how is Ally?”

“Very well, poor little thing, we are all very well. Did you come from Wyvern?” said Charles.

“Yes.”

“And the old man just as usual, I suppose?”

“Just the same, only not growing no younger, you’ll suppose.”

Charles nodded.

“And a damned deal crosser, too. There’s times, I can tell you, he won’t stand no one nigh him—not even old Drake, damned vicious.”

Harry laughed.

“They say he liked Ally—they do upon my soul, and I wouldn’t wonder, ’tis an old rat won’t eat cheese—only you took the bit out o’ his mouth, when you did, and that’s enough to rile a fellow, you know.”

“Who says so?” asked Charles, with a flush on his face.

“The servants—yes—and the town’s people—it’s pretty well about, and I think if it came to the old boy’s ears there would be black eyes and bloody noses about it, I do.”

“Well, it’s a lie,” said Charles; “and don’t, like a good fellow, tell poor little Alice there’s any such nonsense talked about her at home, it would only vex her.”

“Well, I won’t, if I think of it. Where’s Tom? But ’twouldn’t vex her—not a bit—quite ’tother way—there’s never a girl in England wouldn’t be pleased if old Parr himself wor in love wi’ her, so she hadn’t to marry him. But the governor, by Jove, I don’t know a girl twelve miles round Wyvern, as big an old brute as he is, would turn up her nose at him, wi’ all he has to grease her hand. But where’s Tom? the nag must have a feed.”

So they bawled for Tom, and Tom appeared, and took charge of the horse, receiving a few directions about his treatment from Master Harry, and then Charles led his brother in,

“I’m always glad to see you, Harry, but always, at the same time, a little anxious when you come,” said Charles, in a low tone, as they traversed the passage toward the kitchen.

“’T’aint much—I have to tell you something, but first gi’ me a mouthful, for I’m as hungry as a hawk, and a mug o’ beer wouldn’t hurt me while I’m waitin’. It’s good hungry air this; you eat a lot I dessay; the air alone stands you in fifty pounds a year, I reckon; that’s paying pretty smart for what we’re supposed to have for the takin’.”

And Harry laughed at his joke as they entered the dark old dining-room.

“Ally not here?” said Harry, looking: round.

“She can’t be very far off, but I’ll manage something if she’s not to be found.”

So Charles left Harry smiling out of the-window at the tops of the trees, and drumming a devil’s tattoo on the pane.

“Ho! Dulcibella. Is your mistress up stairs?”

“I think she is gone out to the garden, sir; she took her trowel and garden gloves, and the little basket wi’ her,” answered the-old woman.

“Well, don’t disturb her, we’ll not mind. I’ll see old Mildred.”

So to old Mildred he betook himself.

“Here’s Master Harry come very hungry, so send him anything you can make out, and in the mean time some beer, for he’s thirsty too, and like a good old soul, make all the haste you can.”

And with this conciliatory exhortation he returned to the room where he had left his brother.

“Ally has gone out to visit her flowers, but Mildred is doing the best she can for you, and we can go out and join Alice by-and-by, but we are as well to ourselves for a little. I— I want to talk to you.”

“Well, fire away, my boy, with your big oak stick, as the Irishman says, though I’d rather have a mouthful first. Oh, here’s the beer—thank ye, Chick-a-biddy. Where the devil did you get that queer-looking fair one?” he asked, when the Hebe, Lilly Dogger, disappeared; “I’ll lay you fifty it was Ally chose that one.”

And he laughed obstreperously.

And he poured out a tumbler of beer and drank it, and then another and drank it, and poured out a third to keep at hand while he conversed.

“There used to be some old pewter goblets here in the kitchen—I wonder what’s gone wi’ them—they were grand things for drinking beer out of—the pewter, while ye live—there’s nothing like it for beer—or porter, by Jove. Have you got any porter?”

“No, not any; but do, like a good old fellow, tell me anything you have picked up that concerns me—there’s nothing pleasant, I know—there can be nothing pleasant, but if there’s anything, I should rather have it now, than wait, be it ever so bad.”
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