66

Why thee bean't a-going, man?" asked Benjamin

in astonishment, as the philosophical housebreaker abruptly moved towards the door.

"Me and you must'nt be seen together, to-morrer," said Chummy Dick, in a whisper. "You let me

alone I've got business to do to-night-never mind wot! At eleven to-morrer night, you be at the cross roads that meets on the top of the common. Look out sharp; and you'll see me.”

"But if so be it do keep moonshiny," suggested Grimes.

"On second thoughts, Benjamin," said the housebreaker, after a moment's reflection,

66

we'll risk all the moonshine as ever shone-High Street, Tidbury, ain't Bow-street, London! we may risk it safe. Moon, or no moon, young Grimes! to-morrer night's our night!"

By this time he had walked out of the house. They separated at the door. The radiant moonlight falling lovely on all things, fell lovely even on them. How pure it was! how doubly pure, to shine on Benjamin Grimes and Chummy Dick, and not be soiled by the contact!

CHAPTER VI.

A MORNING VISIT.

DURING the whole remainder of Annie's birthday, Mr. Wray sat at home, anxiously expecting the promised communication from the mysterious new pupil whose elocution wanted so much setting to rights. Though he never came, and never wrote, old Reuben still persisted in expecting him forthwith; and still waited for him as patiently the next morning, as he had waited the day before.

Annie sat in the room with her grandfather, occupied in making lace. She had learnt this art, so as to render herself, if possible, of some little use in contributing to the general support; and, sometimes, her manufacture actually poured a few extra shillings into the scantily-filled family coffer. Her lace was not at all the sort of thing that your fine

people would care to look at twice-it was just simple and pretty, like herself; and only sold (when it did sell, and that alas! was not often!) among ladies whose purses were very little better furnished than her own.

"Julius Cæsar was down stairs, n the back kitchen, making the all-important box-or, as the landlady irritably phrased it, "making a mess about the house." She was not partial to sawdust and shavings, and almost lost her temper when the gluepot invaded the kitchen fire. But work away, honest carpenter! work away, and never mind her! Get the mask of Shakspeare out of the old box, and into the new, before night comes; and you will have done the best day's work you ever completed in your life!

Annie and her grandfather had a great deal of talk about the Shakspeare cast, while they were sitting together in the drawing-room. If I were to report all old Reuben's rhapsodies and quotations during that period, I might fill the whole remaining space accorded to me in this little book. It was only once that the conversation varied at all. Annie just

asked, by way of changing the subject a little, how

a plaster cast was taken from the mould; and Mr. Wray instantly went off at a tangent, in the midst of a new quotation, to tell her. He was still describing, for the second time, how the plaster and water were to be mixed, how the mixture was to be left to " set," and how the mould was to be pulled off it, when the landlady, looking very hot and important, bustled into the room, exclaiming :—

66

Mr. Wray, sir! Mr. Wray! Here's Squire Colebatch, of Cropley Court, coming upstairs to see She then added, in a whisper: "He's very hot-tempered and odd, sir, but the best gentleman in the world

you!

"That will do, maʼam! that will do!" interrupted a hearty voice, outside the door. "I can introduce

myself; an old play-writer and an old play-actor don't want much introduction, I fancy! How are

Before the Squire came in, Mr. Wray's first idea was that the young gentleman pupil had arrived at last-but when the Squire appeared, he discovered that he was mistaken. Mr. Colebatch was an old

gentleman with a very rosy face, with bright black eyes that twinkled incessantly, and with perfectly white hair, growing straight up from his head in a complete forest of venerable bristles. Moreover, his elocution wanted no improvement at all; and his delivery" proclaimed itself at once, as the delivery of a gentleman-a very eccentric one, but a gentleman still.

66

"Now, Mr. Wray," said the Squire, sitting down, and throwing open his great-coat, with the air of an old friend; "I've a habit of speaking to the point, because I hate ceremony and botheration. My name's Matthew Colebatch; I live at Cropley Court, just outside the town; and I come to see you, because I've had an argument about your character with the Reverend Daubeny Daker, the Rector here!"

Astonishment bereft Mr. Wray of all power of speech, while he listened to this introductory address.

"I'll tell you how it was, sir," continued the Squire. "In the first place, Daubeny Daker's a canting sneak-a sort of fellow who goes into poor people's cottages, asking what they've got for dinner, and when they tell him, he takes the cover