“I smoke you, by gad!” he cried with another laugh, when to my confusion I felt my cheeks go warm.

And the truth of it is I had determined to pay a visit to Mr. Allardyce on my way home, and the wish to cut a different figure from that in which I had first appeared to the ladies of his family had entered not a little into the consideration of my new garments.  Why do I say “the ladies”?  Let me be honest and say ’twas Mistress Lucy I had in my mind.

There was no question of tramping to Shrewsbury afoot.  I took passage to Bristowe in a coasting vessel, and there, after having a chat with old Woodrow (who told me that his friend Captain Reddaway had sworn to shew me a rope’s end for deceiving him if I ever came athwart his hawser), I booked a seat in the new diligence that ran between Bristowe and Worcester, and there indulged myself in the luxury of a postchaise for the journey to the Hall.  And I warrant you I was as proud as a peacock when the chaise swung in at the gate, and rattled up the drive to the door.

’Twas Susan who opened it.  She stared at me for a moment, then burst out a-giggling, and left me standing while she rushed into the house with a cry of “Measter, here be Joe come back, dressed like a lord!”

“The deuce he is!” came the answering roar, and down came Mr. Allardyce, pipe in hand, with his wife and Mistress Lucy close behind him.

“How d’ye do, sir?” says I, advancing, feeling my face glow with pleasure at seeing my kind friends again as much as any other emotion, I am sure.

“Come back for a job, Joe?” cries Mr. Allardyce, gripping my hand heartily.  “Ah! you impostor!  We know all about you, you young dog, don’t we, madam?  Joe!  Humph!”

“You can’t shorten it like that, sir,” said I, laughing, and giving a hand to the ladies in turn.

And I don’t know whether ’twas due to the suit of clothes, but certainly I felt, as I shook hands with Mistress Lucy, none of the shamefaced awkwardness that had overcome me when I stood before her in rags and she called me “poor man.”

They had me into the room where I had begged work of Mr. Allardyce, and despatched Susan (still giggling) to bespeak a meal of Martha the cook.

“And you must give an account of yourself, Mr. Bold,” says Mr. Allardyce, putting out a chair for me and pushing a pipe into my hand.

“With all my heart, sir,” said I, “but first will you please enlighten me as to how you know my name?”

“Why we learned it a month after you left us,” he replied. “’Twas Roger found it out.

“He is not here, hang it!” he said, his face falling a little.  “We could not keep him at home after you had gone, and now he’s carrying an ensign in the foot regiment of General Webb.