I was at first naturally perplexed as to whom he could mean, until Mr. Amos Baggett, the landlord, informed me on the quiet that the "bye Jarge" was none other than old Jasper's only son--a man now some forty years of age--who, though promising well in his youth; had "gone wrong"--and was at that moment serving a long term of imprisonment for burglary; further, that upon the day of his son's conviction old Jasper had had a "stroke," and was never quite the same after, all recollection of the event being completely blotted from his mind, so that he persisted in thinking and speaking of his son as still a boy. "That bye were a wonder!" he would say, looking round with a kindling eye; "went away to make 'is fortun' 'e did--oh! 'e were a gen'us were that bye Jarge! You, Amos Baggett, were 'e a gen'us or were 'e not." "'E were!" Mr. Baggett would answer, with a slow nod. "Look'ee, sir, do'ee see that theer clock?"--and he would point with a bony, tremulous finger--"stopped it were--got sum'mat wrong wi' its inn'ards--wouldn't stir a finger--dead it were! But that bye Jarge 'e see it 'e did--give it a look over 'e did, an' wi' nout but 'is two 'ands set it a-goin' good as ever: You, Silas Madden, you remember as 'e done it wi' 'is two 'ands?" "'Is two 'ands!" Silas would repeat solemnly. "An' it's gone ever since!" old Jasper would croak triumphantly. "Oh! 'e were a gen'us were my bye Jarge. 'Ell come a-marchin' back to 'is old feyther, some day, wi' 'is pockets stuffed full o' money an' bank-notes--I knaw--I knaw, old Jasper bean't a fule." And herewith, lifting up his old, cracked voice, he would strike up "The British Grenadiers," in which the rest would presently join full lustily, waving their long-stemmed pipes in unison. So the old fellow would sit, singing the praises of his scapegrace son, while his hearers would nod solemn heads, fostering old Jasper's innocent delusion for the sake of his white hairs and the medals upon his breast. But now, he was down with "the rheumatics," and from what Lisbeth told me when I met her on her way to and from his cottage, it was rather more than likely that the high-backed elbow-chair would know him no more. Upon the old fellow's illness, Lisbeth had promptly set herself to see that he was made comfortable, for Jasper was a lonely old man--had installed a competent nurse beside him, and made it a custom morning and evening to go and see that all was well. It was for this reason that I sat upon the Shrubbery gate towards nine o'clock of a certain evening, swinging my legs and listening for the sound of her step along the path. In the fulness of time she came, and getting off my perch, I took the heavy basket from her arm, as was usual. "Dick," she said as we walked on side by side, "really I'm getting quite worried about that Imp." "What has he been up to this time?" I inquired. "I'm afraid he must be ill." "He looked anything but ill yesterday," I answered reassuringly.