stop. I can only tell you, Van, it's one perpetual vapour-bath to me.
There 'll be room for two in my trousers when I get back. I shall have
to get the tailor to take them in a full half.'

Here occurred an opening for one of those acrid pleasantries which
console us when there is horrid warfare within.

'You must give me the work,' said Evan, partly pleased with his hated
self for being able to jest on the subject, as a piece of preliminary
self-conquest.

'Aha!' went Andrew, as if the joke were too good to be dwelt on; 'Hem';
and by way of diverting from it cleverly and naturally, he remarked that
the weather was fine. This made Evan allude to his letter written from
Lymport, upon which Andrew said: 'tush! pish! humbug! nonsense! won't
hear a word. Don't know anything about it. Van, you're going to be a
brewer. I say you are. You're afraid you can't? I tell you, sir, I've
got a bet on it. You're not going to make me lose, are you--eh? I have,
and a stiff bet, too. You must and shall, so there's an end. Only we
can't make arrangements just yet, my boy. Old Tom--very good old fellow
--but, you know--must get old Tom out of the way, first. Now go and
dress for dinner. And Lord preserve us from the Great Mel to-day!'
Andrew mumbled as he turned away.

Evan could not reach his chamber without being waylaid by the Countess.
Had he remembered the sister who sacrificed so much for him? 'There,
there!' cried Evan, and her hand closed on the delicious golden whispers
of bank-notes. And, 'Oh, generous Andrew! dear good Evan!' were the
exclamations of the gratified lady.