"The honly brother as ever I 'ad was a infant as died and--but wot was
you saying about a winder?"

"Nothin'!"

"Come, speak up, you young vagabone--" began Mr. Brimberly, his whiskers
suddenly fierce and threatening, but just then, fortunately for Spike,
the door swung, open, and Mr. Ravenslee entered.

And lo! what a change was here! The battered hat, the faded muffler and
shabby clothes seemed only to show off all the hitherto hidden strength
and vigour of the powerful limbs below; indeed it almost seemed that
with his elegant garments he had laid aside his lassitude also and taken
on a new air of resolution, for his eyes were sleepy no longer, and his
every gesture was lithe and quick. So great was the change that Spike
stared speechless, and Mr. Brimberly gaped with whiskers a-droop.

"Well, shall I do?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee, tightening his faded
neckerchief.

"Do?" repeated Spike, "say--you look all to d' mustard, Geoff! You--you
look as if you could--do things, now!"

"Strangely enough, Spike, I rather feel that way too!" So saying, Mr.
Ravenslee took a pipe from the rack, filled it with quick, energetic
fingers, and proceeded to light it, watched in dumb amaze by the gaping
Brimberly.

"Brimberly," said he, "I shall probably return to-morrow."