‘And I shall be George Vance,’ cried John, ’the only original George Vance!  Rally round the only original!’

Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest of luncheon and a suitable cottage.  It is not always easy to drop at a moment’s notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to supply their wants.  The second place they visited, standing, as it did, about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a glance of hope.  On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing features.  It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green.  The rooms were small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill and a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom boasted only of one bed.

Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect.

‘Well,’ returned the man; ’if you can’t sleep two abed, you’d better take a villa residence.’

‘And then,’ pursued Morris, ’there’s no water.  How do you get your water?’

‘We fill that from the spring,’ replied the carpenter, pointing to a big barrel that stood beside the door.  ’The spring ain’t so very far off, after all, and it’s easy brought in buckets.  There’s a bucket there.’

Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt.  It was new, and very solidly constructed for its office.  If anything had been wanting to decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have turned the scale.  A bargain was promptly struck, the month’s rent was paid upon the nail, and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might have been observed returning to the blighted cottage, having along with them the key, which was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with which they fondly told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie of suitable dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire.  Nor was this all they had effected; already (under the plea that they were landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light but solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new character, they were able to tell themselves that the back of the business was already broken.

John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the kitchen shelf.  Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the place of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from his path, rose almost to the brink of exultation.  There was, however, one difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended.  Would John consent to remain alone in the cottage?  He had not yet dared to put the question.