Apart from the circumstance of this Anthony Bullpit being one of my grandmother's lovers, the narrative was interesting to me from the really remarkable manner in which the forger was discovered. I refolded the printed paper carefully, and replaced it in the interior of the stone figure; and in the course of a couple of days I made a drawing of Anthony Bullpit, as I imagined him to be, a sneaking hang-dog figure of a man, with a hypocritical face, gnawing his finger-nails. CHAPTER XVIII. UNCLE BRYAN COMMENCES THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 'Chris is growing quite a man,' observed my mother one evening to uncle Bryan. Her words attracted uncle Bryan's attention, and he regarded me with more interest than he usually evinced. We three were alone. Jessie was spending the evening with some neighbours, and was not expected home before ten o'clock. The family she visited was named West. I did not know them personally, but I was curious about them, not only because Jessie's visits to their house had lately grown very frequent, but because they were a theatrical family. They were, in a certain sense, famous in the neighbourhood because of their vocation, which lifted them out of the humdrum ordinary course of common affairs. During the whole time we had lived in Paradise-row, I had made no friends among our neighbours. It was different with Jessie: before she had been with us six months, she knew and was known by nearly every person in the locality. She informed me that she was fond of company, and she accepted invitations to tea from one and another. But lately she had confined her intimacy to the Wests, and whenever I came home, and she was absent, I was told she was spending an hour at their house. Many weeks before the observation which commences this chapter was made, Jessie and I had had a conversation about the Wests. She introduced their name, and after informing me that she was going to have tea with them on the following evening, asked me if I would come for her at nine o'clock and bring her home. But I demurred to this, as being likely to be considered an intrusion. 'What nonsense you talk!' she exclaimed. They are the most delightful persons in the world.' 'Your friendships are quickly made, Jessie,' I said, with a jealous pang. 'Directly I see persons I know whether I like them or not. Don't you?' 'I can't say,' I replied sententiously; 'I have never considered it.' 'Well, consider it now. Don't be disagreeable. Directly you saw me, didn't you like me?' 'Oh, yes.' 'Very well, then; that shows you _do_ make up your mind properly about these things, as a man ought to do.' I thrilled with pleasure at this cunning compliment. 'But you are different, Jessie, from any one else.' (What I really wanted to say was, 'You are different in my eyes from any one else;' but the most important words oozed away, from my want of courage.)