This somewhat strange mode of remonstrance was delivered in a solemn
manner, with appropriate gestures, and tickled Mr Villiers so much
that he leaned up against a great rock abutting on the path, and
laughed long and loudly.

'That is right, sir,' said the stranger, approvingly; 'laughter is
to the soul what food is to the body. I think, sir,' in a Johnsonian
manner, 'the thought is a happy one.'

Villiers assented with a nod, and examined the speaker attentively.
He was a man of medium height, rather portly than otherwise, with a
clean-shaved face, clearly-cut features, and two merry grey eyes,
which twinkled like stars as they rested on Villiers. His hair was
greyish, and inclined to curl, but could not follow its natural
inclination owing to the unsparing use of the barber's shears. He
wore a coat and trousers of white flannel, but no waistcoat; canvas
shoes were on his feet, and a juvenile straw hat was perched on his
iron-grey hair, the rim of which encircled his head like a halo of
glory. He had small, well-shaped hands, one of which grasped a light
cane, and the other a white silk pocket handkerchief, with which he
frequently wiped his brow. He seemed very hot, and, leaning on the
opposite side of the path against a rock, fanned himself first with
his handkerchief and then with his hat, all the time looking at Mr
Villiers with a beaming smile. At last he took a silver-mounted
flask from his pocket and offered it to Villiers, with a pleasant
bow.

'It's very hot, you know,' he said, in his rich voice, as Villiers
accepted the flask.