was in. Then he rang the bell.
It was answered by a footman.

"Send Peter to me."

"Lay supper here, Peter, for two," began Mr. Carlyle, when the old
servant appeared. "A person is with me on business. What have you in the
house?"

"There's the spiced beef, sir; and there are some home-made raised pork
pies."

"That will do," said Mr. Carlyle. "Put a quart of ale on the table, and
everything likely to be wanted. And then the household can go to bed;
we may be late, and the things can be removed in the morning. Oh--and
Peter--none of you must come near the room, this or the next, under
any pretence whatever, unless I ring, for I shall be too busy to be
disturbed."

"Very well, sir. Shall I serve the ham also?"

"The ham?"

"I beg pardon, sir; I guessed it might be Mr. Dill, and he is so fond of
our hams."

"Ah, you were always a shrewd guesser, Peter," smiled his master. "He is
fond of ham I know; yes, you may put it on the table. Don't forget the
small kettle."

The consequence of which little finesse on Mr. Carlyle's part was, that
Peter announced in the kitchen that Mr. Dill had arrived, and supper was
to be served for two. "But what a night for the old gentleman to have
trudged through on foot!" exclaimed he.

"And what a trudge he'll have of it back again, for it'll be worse
then!" chimed in one of the maids.

When Mr. Carlyle got back in the other room, his sister and Richard Hare
had scarcely finished staring at each other.

"Please lock the door, Miss Cornelia," began poor shivering Dick.

"The door's locked," snapped she. "But what on earth brought you here,
Richard? You must be worse than mad."

"The Bow-street officers were after me in London," he meekly responded,
unconsciously using a term which had been familiar to his boyish years.
"I had to cut away without a thing belonging to me, without so much as a
clean shirt."

"They must be polite officers, not to have been after you before,"
was the consolatory remark of Miss Carlyle. "Are you going to dance a
hornpipe through the streets of West Lynne to-morrow, and show yourself
openly?"

"Not if I can help it," replied Richard.

"You might just as well do that, if you come to West Lynne at all; for
you can't be here now without being found out. There was a bother about
your having been here the last time: I should like to know how it got
abroad."

"The life I lead is dreadful!" cried Richard. "I might make up my mind
to toil, though