he addled it in no slight degree by shaking his head so much that
day. That Mr. Chester, between whom and Mr. Haredale, it was notorious to all
the neighbourhood, a deep and bitter animosity existed, should come down there
for the sole purpose, as it seemed, of seeing him, and should choose the Maypole
for their place of meeting, and should send to him express, were
stumbling-blocks John could not overcome. The only resource he had, was to
consult the boiler, and wait impatiently for Barnaby's return.
    But Barnaby delayed beyond all precedent. The visitor's dinner was served,
removed, his wine was set, the fire replenished, the hearth clean swept; the
light waned without, it grew dusk, became quite dark, and still no Barnaby
appeared. Yet, though John Willet was full of wonder and misgiving, his guest
sat cross-legged in the easy-chair, to all appearance as little ruffled in his
thoughts as in his dress - the same calm, easy, cool gentleman, without a care
or thought beyond his golden toothpick.
    »Barnaby's late,« John ventured to observe, as he placed a pair of tarnished
candlesticks, some three feet high, upon the table, and snuffed the lights they
held.
    »He is rather so,« replied the guest, sipping his wine. »He will not be much
longer, I dare say.«
    John coughed and raked the fire together.
    »As your roads bear no very good character, if I may judge from my son's
mishap, though,« said Mr. Chester, »and as I have no fancy to be knocked on the
head - which is not only disconcerting at the moment, but places one, besides,
in a ridiculous position with respect to the people who chance to pick one up -
I shall stop here to-night. I think you said you had a bed to spare.«
    »Such a bed, sir,« returned John Willet; »ay, such a bed as few, even of the
gentry's houses, own. A fixter here, sir. I've heard say that bedstead is nigh
two hundred years of age. Your noble son - a fine young gentleman - slept in it
last, sir, half a year ago.«
    »Upon my life, a recommendation!« said the guest, shrugging his shoulders
and wheeling his chair nearer to the fire. »See that it be well aired, Mr.
Willet, and let a blazing fire be lighted