At first Nigel hung back from them, sick and confused with shame, but as the days went by, the emptiness of his life beat him into conciliation. Humiliated to the dust, he longed for some sort of regard, however spurious, just as a starving man will eat dung. His brother and sister gave him love and kindness in plenty, but they were much too practical in their emotions any longer to give him deference. Before he went to prison he had been, though the youngest, the leader of the family--his stronger brain, his quicker wits had made him the captain of their exploits. But now his brain and wits were discredited. Len and Janey did not despise him, they were not ashamed of him before men--but he had forfeited his position in the household. They no longer looked upon him as their superior, he was just the younger brother. At first he had scarcely noticed this--everything had been strange, and he had let slip former realities. But as the days went by, and Parkhurst became more and more of a horrible and suggestive parenthesis, he was able to recall the old ways and see how things had changed. He made no complaint, but his spirit was chafed, and sought crazily for balms. "Come, don't be stand-offish, Mus' Furlonger," said the shepherd of Little Cow Farm, who, meeting him outside the Bells at Lingfield, had suggested a drink. "No, you're a better man than me now--aren't you?" said Nigel, showing his teeth. "I wurn't hinting such, Mus' Furlonger--only t'other chaps in there do want to hear about the prison." "Why?" "Oh, it's always interesting to hear about prison--specially from chaps wot has bin there. We git a lot about 'em in _Lloyd's_ and _The People_, but there's nothing like a fust-hand story--surelye!" Nigel laughed crudely. "And it's a treat to meet a real convict--none of your petty larceny and misdemeanour fellers...." "Well, here's greatness thrust upon me," said Furlonger, and swaggered into the bar. The fuggy atmosphere affected him in much the same way as the smell of ether and dressings affects a man entering a hospital--the spirit of the place, assisted by crude outward manifestations, cowed him and made him its slave. "Name it," said the shepherd. "Porter."