was very sparse; he looked, indeed, like one who has
received the tonsure. The movement of his limbs betokened excessive
indolence; he dragged his feet rather than walked. His attire was
equally suggestive; not only had it fallen into the last degree of
shabbiness (having originally been such as is worn by a man above the
mechanic ranks), but it was patched with dirt of many kinds, and held
together by a most inadequate supply of buttons. At present he wore no
collar, and his waistcoat, half-open, exposed a red shirt.

'Why, you're all a-blowin' and a-growin' this morning, Peckover,' was
his first observation, as he dropped heavily into a wooden arm-chair.
'I shall begin to think that colour of yours ain't natural. Dare you
let me rub it with a handkerchief?'

'Course I dare,' replied Clem, tossing her head. 'Don't be so forward,
Mr. Snowdon.'

'Forward? Not I. I'm behind time if anything. I hope I haven't kept you
from church.'

He chuckled at his double joke. Mother and daughter laughed
appreciatively.

'Will you take your eggs boiled or fried?' inquired Mrs. Peckover.

'Going to give me eggs, are you? Well, I've no objection, I assure you.
And I think I'll have them fried, Mrs. Peckover. But, I say, you
mustn't be running up too big a bill. The Lord only knows when I shall
get anything to do, and it ain't very likely to be a thousand a year
when it does come.'

'Oh, that's all right,' replied the landlady, as if sordid calculation
were a thing impossible to her. 'I can't say as you behaved quite
straightforward years ago, Mr. Snowdon, but I ain't one to make a row
about bygones, an' as you say you'll put it all straight as soon as you
can, well, I won't refuse to trust you once more.'

Mr. Snowdon lay back in the chair, his hands in his waistcoat pockets,
his legs outstretched upon the fender. He was smiling placidly, now at
the preparing breakfast, now at Clem. The latter he plainly regarded
with much admiration, and cared not to conceal it. When, in a few
minutes, it was announced to him that the meal was ready, he dragged
his chair up to the table and reseated himself with a sigh of
satisfaction. A dish of excellent ham, and eggs as nearly fresh as can
be obtained in Clerkenwell, invited him with appetising odour; a large
cup of what is known to the generality of English people as coffee
steamed at his right hand; slices of new bread lay ready cut upon a
plate; a slab of the most expensive substitute for