“I pledged my word as a gentleman, and thought it small, for the money!” said Raikes. “This is the first coach I ever travelled on, without making the old whip burst with laughing. I’m not myself. I’m haunted. I’m somebody else.” The three passengers having descended, a controversy commenced between Evan and Andrew as to which should pay. Evan had his money out; Andrew dashed it behind him; Evan remonstrated. “Well, you mustn’t pay for us two, Andrew. I would have let you do it once, but—” “Stuff!” cried Andrew. “I ain’t paying—it’s the creditors of the estate, my boy!” Evan looked so ingenuously surprised and hurt at his lack of principle, that Andrew chucked a sixpence at a small boy, saying, “If you don’t let me have my own way, Van, I’ll shy my purse after it. What do you mean, sir, by treating me like a beggar?” “Our friend Harrington can’t humour us,” quoth Raikes. “For myself, I candidly confess I prefer being paid for”; and he leaned contentedly against one of the posts of the inn till the filthy dispute was arranged to the satisfaction of the ignobler mind. There Andrew left them, and went to Mrs. Sockley, who, recovered from her illness, smiled her usual placid welcome to a guest. “You know me, ma’am?” “Oh, yes! The London Mr. Cogglesby!” “Now, ma’am, look here. I’ve come for my brother. Don’t be alarmed. No danger as yet. But, mind! if you attempt to conceal him from his lawful brother, I’ll summon here the myrmidons of the law.” Mrs. Sockley showed a serious face. “You know his habits, Mr. Cogglesby; and one doesn’t go against any one of his whimsies, or there’s consequences: but the house is open to you, sir. I don’t wish to hide him.” Andrew accepted this intelligent evasion of Tom Cogglesby’s orders as sufficient, and immediately proceeded upstairs. A door shut on the first landing. Andrew went to this door and knocked. No answer. He tried to open it, but found that he had been forestalled. After threatening to talk business through the key-hole, the door was unlocked, and Old Tom appeared. “So! now you’re dogging me into the country. Be off; make an appointment. Saturday’s my holiday. You know that.” Andrew pushed through the doorway, and, by way of an emphatic reply and a silencing one, delivered a punch slap into Old Tom’s belt. “Confound you, Nan!” said Old Tom, grimacing, but friendly, as if his sympathies had been irresistibly assailed. “It’s done, Tom! I’ve done it. Won my bet, now,” Andrew exclaimed. “The women—poor creatures! What a state they’re in. I pity ’em.” Old Tom pursed his lips, and eyed his brother incredulously, but with curious eagerness. “Oh, Lord! what a face I’ve had to wear!” Andrew continued, and while he sank into a chair and rubbed his handkerchief over his crisp hair, Old Tom let loose a convinced and exulting, “ha! ha!” “Yes, you may laugh. I’ve had all the bother,” said Andrew. “Serve ye right—marrying such cattle,” Old Tom snapped at him.