"Oh, beg your pardon," exclaimed the other. "I thought it was Willsher." "My name's Hazlewood," said Guy, a little stiffly. "Mine's Brydone. We may as well hop in together." Guy rather resented the implication of this birdlike intrusion in company with the doctor's son, a lanky youth whom he had often noticed slouching about Wychford in a cap ostensibly alive with artificial flies. Apparently Willsher must also be expected, against whom Guy had already conceived a violent prejudice dating from the time he called at his father's office to sign the agreement for the tenancy of Plashers Mead. It was of ill augury that the Greys should apparently be supposing that he would make a trio with Brydone and Willsher. "Brought a lantern, eh?" said Brydone. "Yes, this is a lantern," Guy answered, coldly. "You'll never see me with a lantern," Brydone declared. Guy would have liked to retort that he hoped he would never even see Brydone without one. But he contented himself by saying, with all that Balliol could bring to his aid of crushing indifference: "Oh, really?" Somebody behind them was running down the drive and shouting, "Hoo-oo," in what Guy considered a very objectionable voice. It probably was Willsher. "Hullo, Charlie," said Brydone. "Hullo, Percy," said Willsher, for it was he. "Know this gentleman? Mr. Hazlewood?" "Only officially. Pleased to meet you," said the new-comer. "Not at all," answered Guy. He felt furious to think that the Greys would suppose he had arranged to arrive with these two fellows. "Done any fishing yet?" asked Brydone. "No, not yet," said Guy. "Well, your bit of river has been spoilt. Old Burrows let every one go there. But when you want some good fishing, Willsher and I rent about a mile of stream further up and we'll always be glad to give you a day. Eh, Charlie?" Charlie replied with much cordiality that Percy had taken the very words of invitation out of his mouth; and Guy, unable any longer to be frigid, said that he had some books at which they might possibly care to come and look one afternoon. Mr. Brydone and Mr. Willsher both declared they would be delighted, and the latter added in the friendliest way that he knew an old woman in Wychford who was very anxious to sell a Milton warranted to be a hundred years old at least. Was that anything in Mr. Hazlewood's way? Guy explained that a Milton of so recent a date was not likely to be much in his way, and Mr. Brydone remarked that no doubt if it had been a Stilton it would have been another matter. His friend laughed very heartily indeed at this joke, and in an atmosphere of almost hilarious good-fellowship, that was to Guy still a little mortifying, they rang the Rectory bell. None of the family had reached the drawing-room when they were shown in, and Guy was afraid they were rather early.