"But you'd got a 'awful lot o' stuff in you, young 'un," he said. "But, I say, are you--are you really glad to see me, young 'un--I mean, Mr Grace?" "Glad to see you?" I cried. "I can't tell you how glad. But sit down. Here, give me your hat." "Gently, young 'un, there's something in it. Pr'aps I'd better keep it on." "No, no," I cried, catching it from his hands, and forcing him back into the easy-chair. "Gently, young 'un," he said, thrusting one hand up the cuff of his long brown coat, which, with its high collar, almost seemed to be the same as the one in which I saw him first--"gently, young 'un," he said; "you've broke my pipe." I burst out laughing, and, weak as it may sound, the tears came to my eyes again, as I saw him draw from up his sleeve a long clay pipe broken in three, and once more the old scenes in the deserted rifled house came back. "Never mind the pipe, Mr Rowle," I cried. "You shall have a dozen if you like, twice as long as that. But you must be hungry and tired. I am glad to see you." "Thankye, young 'un," he said, smiling; and the old man's lip quivered a little as he shook my hand. "I didn't expect it of you, but I thought I'd come and see if you'd forgotten me." I ran to the bell, and Mary came up directly, and smiled and nodded at my visitor. "Mary," I said, "let's have some supper directly--a bit of something hot. And, I say, bring up that long pipe of Revitts'--the churchwarden, you know. I've got some tobacco." "I've got a bit of tobacco," said Mr Rowle, "and--you've taken my hat away--there's something in it. Thankye. I thought, maybe, they might come in useful. They're quite fresh." As he spoke he took out a great yellow silk handkerchief, and from underneath that, fitting pretty tightly in the hat, a damp-looking paper parcel, that proved to contain a couple of pounds of pork sausages, which Mary bore away, and returned directly with a kettle of hot water and a long churchwarden clay pipe, which Mr Rowle proceeded to fill from my tobacco-jar, lit, sat bolt-upright in his chair, and began to smoke. All the intervening years seemed to have slipped away as I saw the old man sitting there, a wonderfully exact counterpart of Mr Jabez in shabby clothes; and, as his eyes once more wandered round the place, I half expected to see him get up and go all over the house, smoking in each room, and mentally making his inventory of the goods under his charge. I went to a little cellaret, got out the glasses, spirit-stand, and sugar, and mixed the old man a steaming tumbler, which he took, nodded, and sipped with great satisfaction. Then, puffing contentedly away at his pipe, he said: "Not all your own, is it?" And his eyes swept over the furniture. "Yes, to be sure," I said, laughing at his question, for I took a good deal of pride in my rooms, which were really well furnished.