o!
Harry has told me all about your midnight meeting when you took him
for a constable, and he took you for a thief. No--please don't laugh,
Pawson--Mr. Rutter is the worst kind of a thief. Not only has he stolen
my heart because of his goodness to me, but he threatens to make off
with my body. Give me your hand, Todd. Now a little lift on that rickety
elbow and I reckon we can make that flight of steps. I have come down
them so many times of late with no expectation of ever mounting them
again that it will be a novelty to be sure of staying over night. Come
in, Talbot, and see the home of my ancestors. I am sorry the Black
Warrior is all gone--I sent Kennedy the last bottle some time ago--pity
that vintage didn't last forever. Do you know, Talbot, if I had my way,
I'd have a special spigot put in the City Spring labelled 'Gift of a
once prominent citizen,' and supply the inhabitants with 1810--something
fit for a gentleman to drink."

They were all laughing now; the colonel carrying the pillows Todd had
tucked behind the invalid's back, Harry a few toilet articles wrapped
in paper, and Matthew his cane--and so the cortege crawled up the steps,
crossed the dismantled dining-room--the colonel aghast at the change
made in its interior since last he saw it--and so on to St. George's
room where Todd and Jemima put him to bed.

His uncle taken care of--(his father had kept on to Moorlands to tell
his mother the good news)--Harry mounted the stairs to his old room,
which Pawson had generously vacated.

The appointments were about the same as when he left; time and poverty
had wrought but few changes. Pawson, had moved in a few books and there
was a night table beside the small bed with a lamp on it, showing that
he read late; but the bureau and shabby arm-chair, and the closet,
stripped now of the young attorney's clothes to make room for the
wanderer's--(a scant, sorry lot)--were pretty much the same as Harry had
found on that eventful night when he had driven in through the rain and
storm beside his Uncle George, his father's anathemas ringing in his
ears.

Unconsciously his mind went back to the events of the day;--more
especially to his uncle's wonderful vitality and the blissful change
his own home-coming had wrought not only in his physique, but in his
spirits. Then his father's shattered form, haggard face, and uncertain
glance rose before him, and with it came the recollection of all that
had happened during the