ull upon Spike, who
immediately fell to shuffling and wringing at his cap. "Sir--I will,
certingly, sir."

Now when the door had shut after his master, Mr. Brimberly raised eyes
and hands to the ceiling and shook his head until his whiskers quivered.
Quoth he: "Hall I arsks is--wot next!" Thereafter he lowered his eyes
and regarded Spike as if he had been that basest of base minions--a boy
in buttons. At last he deigned speech.

"And w'en did _you_ come in, pray?"

"'Bout a hour ago, sir," answered Spike, dropping his cap in his
embarrassment.

"Ah!" nodded Mr. Brimberly, "about a hour ago--ho! By appointment, I
pre-zoom?"

"No, sir--by a winder."

"A--wot?"

"A winder, sir."

"A--winder? 'Eavens and earth--a winder--ow? Where? Wot for?"

"Say, mister," said Spike, breaking in upon Mr. Brimberly's astounded
questioning, "is he nutty?" And he jerked his thumb toward the door
through which Mr. Ravenslee had gone.

"Nutty!" said Mr. Brimberly, staring.

"Yes--I mean is he batty? Has he got wheels?"

"W'eels?" said Mr. Brimberly, his eyes rounder than usual.

"Well, then, is he daffy?--off his trolley?"

"Off 'is wot?" said Mr. Brimberly, fumbling for his whisker.

"Holy Gee!" exclaimed Spike, "can't you understand English? Say, is your
brother as smart as you?"

"The honly brother as ever I 'ad was a infant as died and--but wot was
you saying about a winder?"

"Nothin'!"

"Come, speak up, you young vagabone--" began Mr. Brimberly, his whiskers
suddenly fierce and threatening, but just then, fortunately for Spike,
the door swung, open, and Mr. Ravenslee entered.

And lo! what a change was here! The battered hat, the faded muffler and
shabby clothes seemed only to show off all the hitherto hidden strength
and vigour of the powerful limbs below; indeed it almost seemed that
with his elegant garments he had laid aside his lassitude also and taken
on a new air of resolution, for his eyes were sleepy no longer, and his
every gesture was lithe and quick. So great was the change that Spike
stared speechless, and Mr. Brimberly gaped with whiskers a-droop.

"Well, shall I do?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee, tightening his faded
neckerchief.

"Do?" repeated Spike, "say--you look all to d' mustard, Geoff! You--you
look as if you could--do things, now!"

"Strangely enough, Spike, I rather feel that way too!" So saying, Mr.
Ravenslee took a pipe from the rack, filled it with quick, energetic
fingers, and proceede