“May Heaven pour down blessings on your head,” replied I, kissing respectfully his lordship’s hand; “and may my father, when I find him, be as like unto you as possible.”  I made my obeisance, and quitted the house.

Chapter XXIII

     The Major prevents the landlord from imposing on me, but I gain
     nothing by his interference—­For economical reasons I agree to live
     with him that he may live on me.

I returned to the hotel, for my mind had been much agitated, and I wished for quiet, and the friendship of Timothy.  As soon as I arrived I told him all that had passed.

“Indeed,” replied Timothy, “things do now wear a pleasant aspect; for I am afraid, that without that thousand, we could not have carried on for a fortnight longer.  The bill here is very heavy, and I’m sure the landlord wishes to see the colour of his money.”

“How much do you think we have left?  It is high time, Timothy, that we now make up our accounts, and arrange some plans for the future,” replied I.  “I have paid the jeweller and the tailor, by the advice of the Major, who says, that you should always pay your first bills as soon as possible, and all your subsequent bills as late as possible; and if put off sine die, so much the better.  In fact, I owe very little now, but the bill here, I will send for it to-night.”

Here we were interrupted by the entrance of the landlord.  “O Mr Wallace, you are the very person I wished to see; let me have my bill, if you please.”

“It’s not of the least consequence, sir,” replied he; “but if you wish it, I have posted down to yesterday,” and the landlord left the room.

“You were both of one mind, at all events,” said Timothy, laughing; “for he had the bill in his hand, and concealed it the moment you asked for it.”

In about ten minutes the landlord re-appeared, and presenting the bill upon a salver, made his bow and retired.  I looked it over, it amounted to L104, which, for little more than three weeks, was pretty well.  Timothy shrugged up his shoulders, while I ran over the items.  “I do not see that there is anything to complain of, Tim,” observed I, when I came to the bottom of it; “but I do see that living here, with the Major keeping me an open house, will never do.  Let us see how much money we have left.”

Tim brought the dressing-case in which our cash was deposited, and we found, that after paying the waiters, and a few small bills not yet liquidated, our whole stock was reduced to fifty shillings.

“Merciful Heaven! what an escape,” cried Timothy; “if it had not been for this new supply, what should we have done?”

“Very badly, Timothy; but the money is well spent, after all.  I have now entrance into the first circles.  I can do without Major Carbonnell; at all events, I shall quit this hotel, and take furnished apartments, and live at the clubs.  I know how to put him off.”