worthier John Raikes. Worthier inasmuch
as he gave him credence for existing long ere he knew of him and beheld
him manifest.

Raikes retreated to the vacant parlour of the Green Dragon, and there
Evan found him staring at the unfolded letter, his head between his
cramped fists, with a contraction of his mouth. Evan was troubled by
what he had seen up-stairs, and did not speak till Jack looked up and
said, 'Oh, there you are.'

'Well, what do you think, Jack?'

'Yes--it's all right,' Raikes rejoined in most matter-of-course tone,
and then he stepped to the window, and puffed a very deep breath indeed,
and glanced from the straight line of the street to the heavens, with
whom, injured as he was, he felt more at home now that he knew them
capable of miracles.

'Is it a bad joke played upon me?' said Evan.

Raikes upset a chair. 'It's quite childish. You're made a gentleman
for life, and you ask if it's a joke played upon you! It's maddening!
There--there goes my hat!'

With a vehement kick, Mr. Raikes despatched his ancient head-gear to the
other end of the room, saying that he must have some wine, and would;
and disdainful was his look at Evan, when the latter attempted to reason
him into economy. He ordered the wine; drank a glass, which coloured a
new mood in him; and affecting a practical manner, said:

'I confess I have been a little hurt with you, Harrington. You left me
stranded on the desert isle. I thought myself abandoned. I thought I
should never see anything but the lengthening of an endless bill on my
landlady's face--my sole planet. I was resigned till I heard my friend
"to-lool!" this morning. He kindled recollection. But, this is a tidy
Port, and that was a delectable sort of young lady that you were riding
with when we parted last! She laughs like the true metal. I suppose you
know it 's the identical damsel I met the day before, and owe it to for
my run on the downs--I 've a compliment ready made for her.'

'You think that letter written in good faith?' said Evan.

'Look here.' Mr. Raikes put on a calmness. 'You got up the other night,
and said you were a tailor--a devotee of the cabbage and the goose. Why
the notion didn't strike me is extraordinary--I ought to have known my
man. However, the old gentleman who gave the supper--he's evidently one
of your beastly rich old ruffianly republicans--spent part of his time
in America, I dare say. Put two and two together.'

But as Harrington desired