it was Old Tom's. He
discovered that he was in Old Tom's hands completely. Andrew had thought
that he would just frighten the women a bit, get them down to Lymport
for a week or so, and then announce that matters were not so bad with
the Brewery as he had feared; concluding the farce with a few domestic
fireworks. Conceive his dismay when he entered the house, to find there
a man in possession.

Andrew flew into such a rage that he committed an assault on the man. So
ungovernable was his passion, that for some minutes Harriet's measured
voice summoned him from over the banisters above, quite in vain. The
miserable Englishman refused to be taught that his house had ceased
to be his castle. It was something beyond a joke, this! The intruder,
perfectly docile, seeing that by accurate calculation every shake he got
involved a bottle of wine for him, and ultimate compensation probably
to the amount of a couple of sovereigns, allowed himself to be lugged up
stairs, in default of summary ejection on the point of Andrew's toe into
the street. There he was faced to the lady of the house, who apologized
to him, and requested her husband to state what had made him guilty of
this indecent behaviour. The man showed his papers. They were quite in
order. 'At the suit of Messrs. Grist.'

'My own lawyers!' cried Andrew, smacking his forehead; and Old Tom's
devilry flashed on him at once. He sank into a chair.

'Why did you bring this person up here?' said Harriet, like a speaking
statue.

'My dear!' Andrew answered, and spread out his hand, and waggled his
head; 'My--please!--I--I don't know. We all want exercise.'

The man laughed, which was kindly of him, but offensive to Mrs.
Cogglesby, who gave Andrew a glance which was full payment for his
imbecile pleasantry, and promised more.

With a hospitable inquiry as to the condition of his appetite, and a
request that he would be pleased to satisfy it to the full, the man was
dismissed: whereat, as one delivered of noxious presences, the Countess
rustled into sight. Not noticing Andrew, she lisped to Harriet:
'Misfortunes are sometimes no curses! I bless the catarrh that has
confined Silva to his chamber, and saved him from a bestial exhibition.'

The two ladies then swept from the room, and left Andrew to perspire at
leisure.

Fresh tribulations awaited him when he sat down to dinner. Andrew liked
his dinner to be comfortable, good, and in plenty. This may not seem
strange. The