“Delighted to see you looking so well, sir,” he said; “quite picked up again, eh, after your little spree abroad? Glad of that. You young men have no moderation. A steady old stager like me knows just how far to go. But you’re always on ahead, you young ’uns. I came up to town Saturday, Mr. Eastwood, to look about me a bit, and see how the world was going on, and I’ve lost no time in looking you up.” “Much obliged, I’m sure,” said poor Frederick, shivering. “I ought to have written to you about that money,” and he went up to the smouldering fire and poked it violently. “How cold the weather keeps for this time of the year!” “It do, to be sure,” said Batty. “But, Mr. Frederick, if you’ll give me the privilege of calling you so--which comes natural, seeing I have been among Eastwoods all my life--I ain’t come here prying about the money. I’m above such mean tricks. When I can be of service to a gentleman I’m proud, and so long as I’m used honourable, and treated like a friend, hang me if I’d dun any man. It ain’t the money, sir, but feeling that has brought me here.” “I am sure you are very good,” said Frederick stiffly, “but however that may be on your part, Mr. Batty, I am aware that I ought to have written to you about what is really a debt of honour----” “Hush, hush!” said Batty, “you make me feel like a shopman, I declare you do. I’ve taken the liberty to write where we’re staying, Mr. Eastwood, on my card, and if you’ll eat a bit of dinner with us at seven, sharp, you’ll do us honour, sir. I’ve got my daughter with me. It ain’t often I can get her up to town, and when I do I like to show her a bit of the world. If you’d ever been down our way with your cousin, the baronet, you’d have heard of my girl. She’s known as the Flower of Sterborne, down our way. I don’t say but what you’ve great beauties about London, greater beauties than our country lasses; but I’m proud of my ’Manda. I’m not in the way of asking my friends when she’s with me, but an Eastwood ain’t like any one else, at least not to her and me.”