and wanted to be leaving, and he
began to remember the object of his visit again. But Mr. Wurley
was nettled at being beaten by a boy, as he counted his opponent,
and wouldn't hear of leaving off. So Tom played on carelessly
game after game, and was soon again only two games ahead. Mr.
Wurley's temper was recovering, and Tom protested that he must
go. Just one game more, his host urged, and Tom consented.
Wouldn't he play for a sovereign? No. So they played double or
quits; and after a sharp struggle Mr. Wurley won the game, at
which he was highly elated, and talked again grandly of the odds
he could give after dinner.

Tom felt that it was now or never, and so, as he put on his coat,
he said,--

"Well, I'm much obliged to you for a very pleasant day, Mr.
Wurley."

"I hope you'll come over again, and stay and sleep. I shall
always be glad to see you. It is so cursed hard to keep somebody
always going in the country."

"Thank you; I should like to come again. But now I want to ask a
favor of you before I go."

"Eh, well, what is it?" said Mr. Wurley, whose face and manner
became suddenly anything but encouraging.

"There's that cottage of yours, the one at the corner of
Englebourn copse, next the village."

"The woodman's house, I know," said Mr. Wurley.

"The tenant is dead, and I want you to let it to a friend of
mine; I'll take care the rent is paid."

Mr. Wurley pricked up his ears at this announcement. He gave a
sharp look at Tom; and then bent over the table, made a stroke,
and said, "Ah, I heard the old woman was dead. Who's your friend,
then?"

"Well, I mean her son," said Tom, somewhat embarrassed; "he's an
active young fellow, and will make a good tenant; I'm sure."

"I daresay," said Mr. Wurley, with a leer; "and I suppose there's
a sister to keep house for him, eh?"

"No, but he wants to get married."

"Wants to get married, eh?" said Mr. Wurley, with another leer
and oath. "You're right; that's a deal safer kind of thing for
you."

"Yes," said Tom, resolutely disregarding the insinuation, which
he could not help feeling was intended; "it will keep him steady,
and if he can get the cottage it might make all the difference.
There wouldn't be much trouble about the marriage then, I dare
say."

"You'll find it a devilish long way. You're quite right, mind
you, not to get them settled close at home; but Englebourn is too
far, I should say."

"What does it matter to me?"

"Oh, you're t