A considerable alteration had been effected in Mr. Effingham's outward man since his first visit to Redmoor. As in the former instance, his first step on receiving the ten pounds from Sir Charles was to purchase a new suit of clothes. He bought them at the neighbouring town, and in pursuance of his intention to assume a literary or artistic character, he had endeavoured to render his apparel suitable, or, as he called it, "to make up for the part." So he now wore a large slouch felt wideawake hat, a dark velveteen jacket, long waistcoat, gray trousers, and ankle-jack boots. Had he carried out his own views of literary attire, he would have adopted a long dressing-gown and Turkish trousers, such as he had seen in the portraits of celebrated authors; but he felt that these would be out of place in the country, and might attract attention. He, however, armed himself with a large notebook and a pencil of portentous thickness, with which he was in the habit of jotting down visionary memoranda whenever he found himself observed. By the initiated and the upper classes this last-described act may have been recognized as an indisputable literary trait; but by the lower orders Mr. Effingham was regarded as a mystic potentate of the turf, whose visit to the Mitford arms had mysterious connection with the proximity of Sir Danesbury Boucher's stables, where Lime-juice, the third favourite for the Derby, was in training; while the entries of the memoranda were by the same people ascribed to the exercise of a process known to them as the booking of bets. The March morning was so splendid in its freshness and bright glittering sunlight, that Mr. Effingham, although little given to admiring the beauties of nature, could not resist occasionally stopping and looking round him. The old elms forming the avenue were just putting forth their first buds; far away on either side stretched broad alternations of turf in level, hill, and glade, all glistening with the morning dew; while on the horizon fronting him, and behind the house, could be seen the outline of the great Redmoor. The jolly old house stood like some red-faced giant, its mullioned windows winking at the sunlight, the house itself just waking into life. From the stable-yard came a string of rugged and hooded horses for exercise. The gardeners were crossing from the conservatory bearing choice flowers for the decoration of the rooms. At the porch was standing the head-keeper, accompanied by two splendid dogs; a groom on horseback, with the swollen post-bag slung round him, passed Mr. Effingham in the avenue; everywhere around were signs of wealth and prosperity.