generally
frequented.

Lord Claud laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder, saying, with a
light laugh:

"O Tom, Tom, whom I called so trusty, I fear me you are as fickle
as any maid! But what does the prophet when the mountain will not
come to him? He even puts his pride in his pocket and goes to the
mountain. You are a solid mountain in your way, good Tom; and here
is the prophet come after you!"

Tom looked up, half ashamed, half flattered, the charm of Lord
Claud's presence beginning at once to make itself felt.

"My lord, I could not think you wanted such a humble person as
myself! And you had but to send me a line to Master Cale's if you
did," he stammered.

Lord Claud dropped into the seat next him, laughing a light,
low-toned laugh.

"I like your simplicity, my honest Tom. Keep it as long as you can;
for it is a quality rarely met with in these days, and smells as
sweet as lavender in country gardens. I have not been wont to need
to ask my friends to visit me. They swarm about my rooms like bees
round honey, so long as there be honey to gather from my hive. How
do you think you are going to live, my young friend, when your
store of guineas is melted, if you have not learned that noble art
of picking and stealing, which our young blades of fashion practise
with such success and grace?"

So the acquaintance was renewed, Tom quickly falling again beneath
the spell of the strong personality of Lord Claud. He had not
entirely ceased his sword practice with Captain Raikes during the
past weeks, and now was to be found at his hall almost every day.
Lord Claud himself would sometimes come and watch and applaud; and
more than once, as the two had walked away together, linked arm in
arm, his patron had said:

"Good swordsmanship is an art to be greatly prized. It makes a man
respected and feared. It gives him distinction with his fellows.
Besides, one never knows when it may be useful for the saving of
one's skin. A man who can wield the rapier with skill, master his
horse as you can, honest Tom, and shoot fair and true with pistol
and musket, may go through life to a merry tune, and even die at
last in his bed, if he has a mind for so respectable an end!"

The days were shortening to their darkest by now. Snow fell in the
streets, and made walking disagreeable. Tom found it pleasant to
ride along beside Lord Claud, mounted upon the mettlesome mare,
Nell Gwynne, who appeared kept just now for his especial use