“Of course you told me he was with you,” said he, addressing his brother, and by the “he” meaning me, “but I should never have remembered it had I not caught the likeness. And how’s the major? and what is he doing? Why, he deserves to be changed into a frog, for living all his life out of England, and never coming to see a man. How is he? how is he?” “Very well indeed,” said I. “Does he ever talk of his brother Dick?” “Oh yes.” I should have been nearer the truth had I said “Oh no.” “_I_’m his brother Dick. Gad take me! you stared, young ’un, as if I were a witch. Do I look as if I could ride a broomstick? hey? hey?” And he burst into a roar of laughter, so loud that I was almost stunned. “And what’s brought you here, Dick?” said my uncle Tom. “Why, I’m thinking of breeding some nags, Tom, and have come to look at ‘Young Sidney,’ belonging to Dixon, of the Three Geese; a good horse, my lad, rising four years old, sixteen and a quarter high: his dam, Tom, a Yorkshire mare, by ‘Slipslop,’ a splendid brute I wanted to buy, but that fellow Solomons wouldn’t part with her at my price. That’s some years since. So I told Teazer I’d run over here and see the animal, and have a look at the wife and Conny. How are they?” “Very well. You’ll sleep at Grove End?” “Yes; but I shall want to be away early. Wednesday’s settling-day on the Stock Exchange, and I must be in town to-morrow night.” “Why didn’t you bring Teazer with you?” “Oh, somebody must be left to look after the plate. Young ’un,” said he to me, “are you any judge of horses?” “No, I know nothing of horses, nor of clothes’ horses either,” I replied, hardly relishing his freedom before my uncle Tom, whose behaviour to me was uniformly courteous and even deferential; and yet not choosing to resent it, for fear of being made to cut a ridiculous figure. “Hullo! he’s a wag, Tom. Is that a French pun, nephew?” he asked, with a droll wink at his brother. “What are you going to do now?” said uncle Tom, coming to my rescue. “Why, I shall go and get a basin of soup at Dixon’s, and then drive over to Grove End?” “Lunch with my wife--you’ll be in time.” “Thank you; now that I’m here, I’ll have a talk with Philpotts, your nursery-man, about some seed he’s advertising.” “The phaeton will be here at four; join us. We’ll drive you to Grove End.” “All right,” answered my stout uncle, rising laboriously. “Good-bye for the present, Tom; good-bye, young ’un.” And he strode out of the bank, making the whole place shake with his heavy tread. “He’s one of the best-hearted fellows in existence,” said uncle Tom, looking at me with a humorous twinkle in his eye. “I’m very glad he’s come. I’ve been wanting an opportunity to introduce you.” “Who’s Teazer? his dog?” I asked. “His daughter. It’s his pet name for Theresa--as handsome a girl as ever you saw.” “Not so bluff as her papa, perhaps?”