“Quite a family likeness between the admiral and you, Mr. Freely,” observed Mrs. Palfrey, who was looking at the family portrait for the first time.  “It’s wonderful! and only a grand-uncle.  Do you feature the rest of your family, as you know of?”

“I can’t say,” said Mr. Freely, with a sigh.  “My family have mostly thought themselves too high to take any notice of me.”

At this moment an extraordinary disturbance was heard in the shop, as of a heavy animal stamping about and making angry noises, and then of a glass vessel falling in shivers, while the voice of the apprentice was heard calling “Master” in great alarm.

Mr. Freely rose in anxious astonishment, and hastened into the shop, followed by the four Palfreys, who made a group at the parlour-door, transfixed with wonder at seeing a large man in a smock-frock, with a pitchfork in his hand, rush up to Mr. Freely and hug him, crying out,—­“Zavy, Zavy, b’other Zavy!”

It was Jacob, and for some moments David lost all presence of mind.  He felt arrested for having stolen his mother’s guineas.  He turned cold, and trembled in his brother’s grasp.

“Why, how’s this?” said Mr. Palfrey, advancing from the door.  “Who is he?”

Jacob supplied the answer by saying over and over again—­

“I’se Zacob, b’other Zacob.  Come ’o zee Zavy”—­till hunger prompted him to relax his grasp, and to seize a large raised pie, which he lifted to his mouth.

By this time David’s power of device had begun to return, but it was a very hard task for his prudence to master his rage and hatred towards poor Jacob.

“I don’t know who he is; he must be drunk,” he said, in a low tone to Mr. Palfrey.  “But he’s dangerous with that pitchfork.  He’ll never let it go.”  Then checking himself on the point of betraying too great an intimacy with Jacob’s habits, he added “You watch him, while I run for the constable.”  And he hurried out of the shop.

“Why, where do you come from, my man?” said Mr. Palfrey, speaking to Jacob in a conciliatory tone.  Jacob was eating his pie by large mouthfuls, and looking round at the other good things in the shop, while he embraced his pitchfork with his left arm, and laid his left hand on some Bath buns.  He was in the rare position of a person who recovers a long absent friend and finds him richer than ever in the characteristics that won his heart.

“I’s Zacob—­b’other Zacob—­’t home.  I love Zavy—­b’other Zavy,” he said, as soon as Mr. Palfrey had drawn his attention.  “Zavy come back from z’ Indies—­got mother’s zinnies.  Where’s Zavy?” he added, looking round and then turning to the others with a questioning air, puzzled by David’s disappearance.

“It’s very odd,” observed Mr. Palfrey to his wife and daughters.  “He seems to say Freely’s his brother come back from th’ Indies.”

“What a pleasant relation for us!” said Letitia, sarcastically.  “I think he’s a good deal like Mr. Freely.  He’s got just the same sort of nose, and his eyes are the same colour.”