o me to keep back, plunged into the house, and appeared next
moment in the doorway of the chamber.

"O, sir!" says he, "keep away from those there windows. A body might see
you from the back lane."

"It is registered," said I. "Henceforward I will be a mouse for
precaution and a ghost for invisibility. But in the meantime, for God's
sake, fetch us a bottle of brandy! Your room is as damp as the bottom of
a well, and these gentlemen are perishing of cold."

So soon as I had paid him (for everything, I found, must be paid in
advance), I turned my attention to the fire, and whether because I threw
greater energy into the business, or because the coals were now warmed
and the time ripe, I soon started a blaze that made the chimney roar
again. The shine of it, in that dark, rainy day, seemed to reanimate the
Colonel like a blink of sun. With the outburst of the flames, besides, a
draught was established, which immediately delivered us from the plague
of smoke; and by the time Fenn returned, carrying a bottle under his arm
and a single tumbler in his hand, there was already an air of gaiety in
the room that did the heart good.

I poured out some of the brandy.

"Colonel," said I, "I am a young man and a private soldier. I have not
been long in this room, and already I have shown the petulance that
belongs to the one character and the ill manners that you may look for
in the other. Have the humanity to pass these slips over, and honour me
so far as to accept this glass."

"My lad," says he, waking up and blinking at me with an air of
suspicion, "are you sure you can afford it?"

I assured him I could.

"I thank you, then: I am very cold." He took the glass out, and a
little colour came in his face. "I thank you again," said he. "It goes
to the heart."

The Major, when I motioned him to help himself, did so with a good deal
of liberality; continued to do so for the rest of the morning, now with
some sort of apology, now with none at all; and the bottle began to look
foolish before dinner was served. It was such a meal as he had himself
predicted: beef, greens, potatoes, mustard in a teacup, and beer in a
brown jug that was all over hounds, horses, and hunters, with a fox at
the far end and a gigantic John Bull--for all the world like
Fenn--sitting in the midst in a bob-wig and smoking tobacco. The beer
was a good brew, but not good enough for the Major; he laced it with
brandy--for his cold, he said; and in this cura