"Rehabilitation." "Exactly. It may be fun for us to rig out this poor devil, but we must do more than feed and clothe him. Have you thought of that?" I had not, and said so. "This is an experiment. First and last, we're going to try to raise a man from the dead. If we get him on to his pins, we'll have to supply some crutches. Are you prepared to do that?" "If you are." "Right! Of course, he may refuse our help. It wouldn't surprise me a little bit if he did refuse." When our preparations were complete, we returned to the barn. In a few words Ajax told the stranger of what had been done. "After supper," he concluded, "we'll talk things over. Times are rather good just now, and something can be arranged." "You're very kind," replied the tramp; "but I think you had better leave me in the barn." "We can't," said my brother. "It's too beastly to think of you like this." Nevertheless, we had to argue the matter, and I ought to add that although we prevailed in the end, both Ajax and I were aware that the man's acceptance of what we offered imposed an obligation upon us rather than upon him. As he was about to enter the bath-house, he turned with the derisive smile on his lips-- "If it amuses you," he murmured, "I shall have earned my bath and supper." When he reappeared, nobody would have recognised him. So far, the experiment had succeeded beyond expectation. A new man walked into our sitting-room and glanced with intelligent interest at our household gods. Over the mantel-piece hung an etching of the Grand Canal at Venice. He surveyed it critically, putting up a pair of thin hands, as so to shut off an excess of light. "Jimmie Whistler taught that fellow a trick or two," he remarked. "You knew Whistler?" "Oh yes." We left him with _Punch_ and a copy of an art journal. Ajax said to me, as we went back to the barn-- "I'll bet he's an artist of sorts." It happened that we had in our cellar some fine claret; a few magnums of Léoville, '74, a present from a millionaire friend. We never drank it except upon great occasions. Ajax suggested a bottle of this elixir, not entirely out of charity. Such tipple would warm a graven image into speech, and my brother is inordinately curious. Our guest had nothing to give to us except his confidence, and that he had withheld. We decanted the claret very carefully. As soon as our guest tasted it, he sighed and said quietly-- "I never expected to taste that again. It's Léoville, isn't it? And in exquisite condition." He sipped the wine in silence, while I thought of the bundle of foul rags upon our rubbish heap. Ajax was talking shop, describing with some humour our latest deal, and the present high price of fat steers. Our guest listened politely, and when Ajax paused, he said ironically-- "Yours is a gospel of hard work. I dare say you have ridden two horses to a standstill to-day? Just so. I can't ride, or plough, or dig." Ajax opened his lips to reply, and closed them. Our guest smiled.