"Mr. Avery, I can't mistake you! And that's Easy Deasy, isn't it?"
Avery looked at him, and said,—
"You have the advantage of me, sir."
While Deasy jumped off the lorry, a fine, tall strapping fellow, with a magnificent red beard, and exclaimed in a voice which had lost none of its brogue,—
"Boys honey! I hope he ain't some one I owed a few pence to when I was here long ago!"
"Not a penny. Larry, don't you know me?" said Roger, laughing. "Mr. Avery, where is Jack Sparling?"
Avery started and looked again.
"You don't mean to say as you—"
"It's himself—Roger Read," shouted Deasy. "And it's meself that's proud to see you, Roger. We were talking of you this very day, and I was wondering if I could find out what was become of you. But, Roger, you're quite a gentleman, now I look at you!"
"Not much of that," Roger answered; "but I've done very well. I have a shop in Kingsmore now. You come over and see me some evening, Deasy. But—"