he morning light fell
full on the face of Mr. Candy's assistant when I turned, and looked at
him.

It was impossible to dispute Betteredge's assertion that the appearance
of Ezra Jennings, speaking from a popular point of view, was against
him. His gipsy-complexion, his fleshless cheeks, his gaunt facial bones,
his dreamy eyes, his extraordinary parti-coloured hair, the puzzling
contradiction between his face and figure which made him look old and
young both together--were all more or less calculated to produce an
unfavourable impression of him on a stranger's mind. And yet--feeling
this as I certainly did--it is not to be denied that Ezra Jennings made
some inscrutable appeal to my sympathies, which I found it impossible to
resist. While my knowledge of the world warned me to answer the question
which he had put, acknowledging that I did indeed find Mr. Candy sadly
changed, and then to proceed on my way out of the house--my interest in
Ezra Jennings held me rooted to the place, and gave him the opportunity
of speaking to me in private about his employer, for which he had been
evidently on the watch.

"Are you walking my way, Mr. Jennings?" I said, observing that he held
his hat in his hand. "I am going to call on my aunt, Mrs. Ablewhite."

Ezra Jennings replied that he had a patient to see, and that he was
walking my way.

We left the house together. I observed that the pretty servant girl--who
was all smiles and amiability, when I wished her good morning on my way
out--received a modest little message from Ezra Jennings, relating to
the time at which he might be expected to return, with pursed-up lips,
and with eyes which ostentatiously looked anywhere rather than look in
his face. The poor wretch was evidently no favourite in the house.
Out of the house, I had Betteredge's word for it that he was unpopular
everywhere. "What a life!" I thought to myself, as we descended the
doctor's doorsteps.

Having already referred to Mr. Candy's illness on his side, Ezra
Jennings now appeared determined to leave it to me to resume the
subject. His silence said significantly, "It's your turn now." I, too,
had my reasons for referring to the doctor's illness: and I readily
accepted the responsibility of speaking first.

"Judging by the change I see in him," I began, "Mr. Candy's illness must
have been far more serious that I had supposed?"

"It is almost a miracle," said Ezra Jennings, "that he lived through
it."

"Is his