“Not a feature in his face,” he said, with a growl of angry laughter, “not a bit, no more nor I’m like. I’m just an old fool. I take anyone for him. Ne’er a soul comes down t’ Fells but I say, it’s him, as if he was coming from t’ skies. A fine joke that; and him t’ prodigal son, a good joke; to look for him from t’ skies! He should come from t’ other place, Miss Liddy, up from t’ ground.” “But he was no prodigal,” said Liddy, indignantly. “He did not go away for any harm, Isaac, you know that!” “I know a’ about it, a’ about it,” said the old man. “Step forward, Sir, into the light. If you keep there dangling behind her--Lord! but I’ll think it’s you after a’.” “You must be like Harry,” cried Lydia, turning round quickly upon her companion. “When she saw you first, my mother started too.” “He’s about the same age,” said old Isaac, “and tallness--no more, not a hair. Don’t you speak to me, Miss Liddy. If I dunnot know him, who does? I brought him up, though you wouldn’t think it. I put him on a pony the first time. I gied him most of his lessons, out of t’ school. But this isn’t him,” the old man said indignantly, “it’s not him, I tell ye. Don’t you think to impose on me.” “Isaac,” said Lydia, “will you let Mr. Brotherton see the house? He wants to live here for a little. Mother thinks you might put in a little furniture, and make him comfortable.” “Com--fortable!” said the old man, prolonging the word with a half-laughing, half-angry cry; “and it was your mother said it? If he likes t’ bide with the bats and the rats, he may be com--fortable. There’s been nobody else there as long’s I mind. Do you mean,” he added, suddenly screwing up his eye into a little spark of red fire, “that she’s consented, and Miss Joan, and you? I’ll not b’lieve it; and who,” he asked fiercely, “is to get this share?” “You must not speak so to me. We have not consented, and I never will consent. But this gentleman does not understand what we are talking about,” said Lydia; “take him into the house and show him what rooms there are, and I will go and see your wife.” “Oh, ay,” said Isaac, “speak to t’ missis, you’ll find her in a fine way. If she hadna gotten t’ meekest man, next to Job, that was ever in this ill world--a pictur and a pattern. But you’ll see for yourself, Miss Liddy; you can drop a word about t’ gentleman to soothen her down. Come this way round, come this way round, it’s the best way.”