ry. A candle was in the passage
of one of the two sets of rooms; the doors were open, and the names of
Mr. Warrington and Mr. A. Pendennis were very clearly visible to the
Major as he went in. An Irish charwoman, with a pail and broom, opened
the door for the Major.

"Is that the beer?" cried out a great voice: "give us hold of it."

The gentleman who was speaking was seated on a table, unshorn and
smoking a short pipe; in a farther chair sate Pen, with a cigar, and
his legs near the fire. A little boy, who acted as the clerk of these
gentlemen, was grinning in the Major's face, at the idea of his being
mistaken for beer. Here, upon the third floor, the rooms were somewhat
lighter, and the Major could see place.

"Pen, my boy, it's I--it's your uncle," he said, choking with the smoke.
But as most young men of fashion used the weed, he pardoned the practice
easily enough.

Mr. Warrington got up from the table, and Pen, in a very perturbed
manner, from his chair. "Beg your pardon for mistaking you," said
Warrington, in a frank, loud voice. "Will you take a cigar, sir? Clear
those things off the chair, Pidgeon, and pull it round to the fire."

Pen flung his cigar into the grate; and was pleased with the cordiality
with which his uncle shook him by the hand. As soon as he could speak
for the stairs and the smoke, the Major began to ask Pen very kindly
about himself and about his mother; for blood is blood, and he was
pleased once more to see the boy.

Pen gave his news, and then introduced Mr. Warrington--an old Boniface
man--whose chambers he shared.

The Major was quite satisfied when he heard that Mr. Warrington was a
younger son of Sir Miles Warrington of Suffolk. He had served with an
uncle of his in India and in New South Wales, years ago.

"Took a sheep-farm there, sir, made a fortune--better thing than law or
soldiering," Warrington said. "Think I shall go there too." And here
the expected beer coming in, in a tankard with a glass bottom, Mr.
Warrington, with a laugh, said he supposed the Major would not have any,
and took a long, deep draught himself, after which he wiped his wrist
across his beard with great satisfaction. The young man was perfectly
easy and unembarrassed. He was dressed in a ragged old shooting jacket,
and had a bristly blue beard. He was drinking beer like a coalheaver,
and yet you couldn't but perceive that he was a gentleman.

When he had sate for a minute or two after his draught he