And that was a red-letter day when, the translation completed, he set out with it for London. It happened to be the same day that Sir Simon and his large party were crossing over from Boulogne; but that had nothing to do with Mr. Henry. The sun was bright, the skies were clear; his ailments and his weakness, the weary night vigils, and the past fatigue in his labours, all were alike forgotten, as he bore on to the publisher's house in Paternoster Row, and passed at length through its swing doors, carrying his heavy parcel. "Would you like to receive the money now?" inquired the publisher, after he had talked with him. "If you please. If not inconvenient." Not inconvenient certainly to pay thirty pounds; and the money, in five-pound notes, was given into his hand. "We shall send the proofs to you, Mr. Henry; no one but yourself must correct them." "Very well. You will present me with a copy of the book for my own use?" "One copy, sir! You shall have more than that, and be welcome to them. Half a dozen if you like." "Thank you very much. Then I can give a copy to Dr. Brabazon, and send over another to my old university." He went out, his eyes quite luminous with the pleasure. The money in his pocket; the learned book (it might almost be called _his_ book, so great had been his labour) coming out immediately; copies to give to his friends! For once Mr. Henry forgot his care, and seemed to tread on air. But he could not live on air; and hunger was very powerfully reminding him of that fact when he reached the Strand. He looked out for an eating-house, and turned into Simpson's. Ordering a plateful of lamb and peas (recommended by the waiter), he went out again to a shop close by, to buy some trifle he wanted. As he was bounding back into Simpson's, he found his coat-tails seized, and turned to see a boy in the College cap. It was Leek. "Why, Onions!" he exclaimed, calling him, in his surprise, by the more familiar name, "I thought you were in France. George Paradyne wrote to me a day or two ago, and mentioned you." "We came over yesterday; Lady Sophia got tired of the place," answered Onions. "The rest are crossing to-day: I mean Loftus and Gall's lot," he went on to explain with the customary scant ceremony of the College boys. "Oh, Mr. Henry, we have had the jolliest lark! I should like to tell it you." "Do so," said Mr. Henry. "I am going to have some dinner: will you take some with me?" "Don't care if I do," returned Onions. "Lamb and peas! That's good, after the kickshaws we've had in France. You'll laugh yourself into a fit when you hear what happened there."