in a very pretty single gentleman's chamber,
said, "This is your den. And now, can you guess who I am?"

"No one but my uncle Richard could be so kind," answered Leonard.

But the compliment did not flatter Richard. He was extremely
disconcerted and disappointed. He had hoped that he should be taken for
a lord at least, forgetful of all that he had said in disparagement of
lords.

"Fish!" said he at last, biting his lip, "so you don't think that I look
like a gentleman? Come, now, speak honestly."

Leonard, wonderingly, saw he had given pain, and with the good breeding
which comes instinctively from good nature, replied, "I judge you by
your heart, sir, and your likeness to my grandfather,--otherwise I
should never have presumed to fancy we could be relations."

"Hum!" answered Richard. "You can just wash your hands, and then come
down to dinner; you will hear the gong in ten ininutes. There's the
bell,--ring for what you want." With that, he turned on his heel; and
descending the stairs, gave a look into the dining-room, and admired the
plated salver on the sideboard, and the king's pattern spoons and silver
on the table. Then he walked to the looking-glass over the mantelpiece;
and, wishing to survey the whole effect of his form, mounted a chair.
He was just getting into an attitude which he thought imposing, when
the butler entered, and, being London bred, had the discretion to try to
escape unseen; but Richard caught sight of him in the looking-glass, and
coloured up to the temples.

"Jarvis," said he, mildly, "Jarvis, put me in mind to have these
inexpressibles altered."

CHAPTER III.

A propos of the inexpressibles, Mr. Richard did not forget to provide
his nephew with a much larger wardrobe than could have been thrust into
Dr. Riccabocca's knapsack. There was a very good tailor in the town, and
the clothes were very well made. And, but for an air more ingenuous,
and a cheek that, despite study and night vigils, retained much of the
sunburned bloom of the rustic, Leonard Fairfield might now have almost
passed, without disparaging comment, by the bow-window at White's.
Richard burst into an immoderate fit of laughter when he first saw the
watch which the poor Italian had bestowed upon Leonard; but to atone
for the laughter, he made him a present of a very pretty substitute, and
bade him "lock up his turnip." Leonard was more hurt by the jeer at his
old patron's gift than pleased by his uncle's. But R