Cornelius uttered a joyful exclamation, and hastened in, leaving me the door to close. The greeting of the two friends was not over when I entered the parlour. They stood in a proximity that rendered more apparent Mr. Smalley's feminine slenderness as contrasted with the erect and decided bearing of Cornelius, who, although much younger, had, as if by the intuitive remembrance of their old relation of protector and protected, laid his hand on the shoulder of his former school-fellow, looking down at him with a pleased smile. "Don't you think he's grown?" asked Mr. Trim. "More than you," was the short reply. "How much _you_ are altered!" said Mr. Smalley, surveying his friend with evident admiration. "And so are you," replied Cornelius, glancing at his clerical attire: "I congratulate you." The Reverend Morton Smalley coloured a little, and, with a proud and happy smile, replied, gently squeezing the hand of Cornelius-- "Thank you, my dear friend; I have indeed obtained the privilege of entering our beloved Church--" "Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Trim, peering around, "Smalley always liked the ladies,--ha! ha!" Mr. Smalley reddened and looked hurt, like a lover who hears his mistress slighted. Cornelius, who still stood with his hand on the shoulder of his friend, slowly turned towards Mr. Trim, to say, in a tone of ice-- "Did you speak, Trim?" Mr. Trim opened his eyes with an alarmed start, as if he rather expected a sort of sequel to "the little affair" of their early days. "Why, it is only a joke," he hastily replied; "I like a joke, you know; but who minds _me?_" Before Cornelius could answer, Miss O'Reilly closed the discussion by ringing for tea. Mr. Trim, who now seemed gathered up into himself, like a snail in his shell, drank six cups in profound silence, then went back to the fireside, where, shutting his eyes, he indulged in a nap. Miss O'Reilly was as silent as a hostess could well be. I sat near her, unnoticed, but attentive. Both during and after the meal the conversation was left to Cornelius and his friend. They spoke of Mr. Smalley's prospects; of the Dorsetshire curacy, on which he again dwelt _con amore;_ they talked of old times, laughed over old jokes, and exchanged information concerning old companions and school-fellows, now scattered far and wide. "What has become of Smith?" asked Cornelius. "He is in the army." "And Griffiths in the navy. You know that Blake is a physician, at Manchester?" "Yes, and Reed has turned gentleman-farmer--is going to marry--" "And lead a pastoral life. I am glad they are all doing well." "Smalley!" observed Mr. Trim, wakening up, "tell O'Reilly you think it a shame for a fine fellow like him to poke in an office." "_Et tu Brute!_" exclaimed Cornelius, turning round to Mr. Smalley, who replied, a little embarrassed-- "I confess I was surprised--" "What did you expect from me?" "Well, remembering your argumentative powers and flow of speech--"