had for
the last minute been standing behind him inquisitively with one paw
raised, and sniffing, in some doubt whether he recognized an old
acquaintance; but at Kenelm's quick movement the animal broke into a
nervous bark, and ran back to his master.

The minstrel, little heeding the figure reclined on the bank, would have
passed on with his light tread and his cheery carol, but Kenelm rose to
his feet, and holding out his hand, said, "I hope you don't share Max's
alarm at meeting me again?"

"Ah, my young philosopher, is it indeed you?"

"If I am to be designated a philosopher it is certainly not I. And,
honestly speaking, I am not the same. I, who spent that pleasant day
with you among the fields round Luscombe two years ago--"

"Or who advised me at Tor Hadham to string my lyre to the praise of a
beefsteak. I, too, am not quite the same,--I, whose dog presented you
with the begging-tray."

"Yet you still go through the world singing."

"Even that vagrant singing time is pretty well over. But I disturbed you
from your repose; I would rather share it. You are probably not going my
way, and as I am in no hurry, I should not like to lose the opportunity
chance has so happily given me of renewing acquaintance with one who has
often been present to my thoughts since we last met." Thus saying, the
minstrel stretched himself at ease on the bank, and Kenelm followed his
example.

There certainly was a change in the owner of the dog with the
begging-tray, a change in costume, in countenance, in that indescribable
self-evidence which we call "manner." The costume was not that Bohemian
attire in which Kenelm had first encountered the wandering minstrel, nor
the studied, more graceful garb, which so well became his shapely form
during his visit to Luscombe. It was now neatly simple, the cool and
quiet summer dress any English gentleman might adopt in a long rural
walk. And as he uncovered his head to court the cooling breeze, there
was a graver dignity in the man's handsome Rubens-like face, a line of
more concentrated thought in the spacious forehead, a thread or two of
gray shimmering here and there through the thick auburn curls of hair
and beard. And in his manner, though still very frank, there was just
perceptible a sort of self-assertion, not offensive, but manly; such
as does not misbecome one of maturer years, and of some established
position, addressing another man much younger than himself, who in
all probab