Noon came, and with it Mr. Cuthbert Stevens. The Squire inspected him as he entered, and could find nothing with which to be dissatisfied. His taste in dress was excellent, his manners were faultless; and the Squire began to think his first thoughts had been the best. Dinner passed without a single _contretemps_. The stranger talked with the Squire about hunting and poaching, and was quite alive to the enormities of the latter; to Charley upon snaring rabbits and making rabbit-hutches; to Henrietta and Isabella upon the fashions and London life (with which he seemed perfectly familiar); and told Madam Passmore of a new method of distilling cordial waters of which she had not previously heard. Of Celia he took little apparent notice. The family began to think that they had lighted on a very agreeable and accomplished man; and when dinner was over, and the sketch of the staircase made--(which latter the Squire, though no artist, could see was a faithful copy, and pronounced "as like as two peas")--the stranger was pressed to remain longer, but this offer, with many thanks, Mr. Stevens declined. His time, he said, was growing short, and he must make all possible use of it. He had still several sketches to complete before quitting the neighborhood; but he could assure Mr. Passmore that he would never forget the kindness shown him at Ashcliffe, and would inform Sir Godfrey of it on his return to London. "Well, Sir, if you will remain no longer," said Madam Passmore, her kind heart compassionating his probably precarious circumstances, "you will put one of these raised pies in your pocket for your journey? I think you liked them at dinner." The artist gratefully accepted the offer. With a very respectful bow he took leave, Charley volunteering to accompany him to the gate. There was a good deal of conversation on the way through the park, chiefly on Charley's side, the stranger contenting himself with an occasional simple and careless query. At the gate they parted--Charley to run home at the top of his speed, and Mr. Stevens to walk rather quickly for half a mile in the direction of Exeter. Having so done, he turned aside into a coppice bordering on the road, and, slackening his pace, commenced whistling a lively air. The verse was still unfinished, when an answering whistle of the same tune was heard, and the man who had accosted Celia over the hedge came in view, advancing to meet him. "Well, Gilbert!" was the artist's greeting, "any good news?" "The same that I left you with, Father," said the elder man in reply; "and if you call it good news, you have the heart of a stone. I am all but famished, and sick-tired of being cooped up in that miserable hole." "And the inquiries, Gilbert? You told me all that before, you know."