“Surely, it ain't possible that you remember me, Steve?” cried Gibbs. “I reckon you knew Jake wouldn't send any one but me to meet you. Here, let me carry your satchel—no? Well, come this way then to the carriage. Your Uncle Jake wasn't feeling just himself to-night. Oh, nothing serious. Odd, though, ain't it—I'm a good ten years his senior, and I say it without pride, Steve, I've lived a faster life than he has, and I don't know what sickness is. My dear boy, I'm glad to see you, I've been the friend, the intimate associate, of two generations of Landrays, and you're to make the third; for we'll keep up the ancient custom, trust me for that. Are you quite comfortable?” They were seated in the carriage now. “Oh, quite,” said Stephen. His first impression of the general was distinctly and unqualifiedly unfavourable. Gibbs was speaking again. “It's quite a coincidence that I should meet you, Steve; of course you don't remember it, but I brought you here after your poor father's death. He was my very dear friend, we were like brothers. We had been comrades-in-arms, and we were in business together almost up to the time of his death.” Gibbs was industriously swabbing his face with his handkerchief as he spoke. Stephen was silent. He did not know just how to take this old friend of his father's, the wealth of whose emotions embarrassed him, and he was greatly relieved when the carriage turned from the paved street into a gravelled drive, and he knew his journey's end was reached. The house door opened, and Benson appeared on the threshold. Stephen sprang from the carriage and ran quickly up the steps. Gibbs followed more slowly, with the coachman and the luggage. “Right up to his room, Andrew—the front room over the library,” Gibbs ordered. He turned to Benson. “I suppose Steve will want to go up-stairs too, Jake. Hadn't I better show him the way?” Benson gave Stephen a quiet smile. “I am quite in Gibbs's hands,” he said. “He has been in consultation with the cook for over a week, preparing the dinner we shall sit down to presently.” “Good Heavens, Jake, I didn't want the lad to starve,” said the general, as, bustling and eager, he led the way up-stairs. While Stephen was busy removing the signs of travel from his face and hands, he established himself in an easy-chair from which he beamed affectionately upon the young fellow. “Jake's in the hands of his servants. They never do anything for him if it puts them to the least trouble, but they stand about for me! Damn 'em, I give 'em a taste of army discipline now and then, and a good rousing cussing when I think they need it. I don't know what he'd do if it wasn't for me, since Mrs. Pope went away. I reckon you remember her, Steve?” “Oh, yes.”