Somewhere about dusk in the evening, Colin walked forth into the village, for the purpose of witnessing the enjoyment of others; and amongst many other signs that all were happy and contented, he observed a knot of country bumpkins gathered round something which had attracted their attention in the middle of the highway, and that appeared to afford them the highest degree of amusement, judging by the frequent and loud peals of boisterous laughter which broke from the assembled crowd. No sooner did the latter observe who approached, than they respectfully fell back, in order to allow him a sight of the object they had surrounded. Colin instantly perceived a man past the middle age, and, apparently, worn down by trouble and poverty combined, with a pack on his back, not unlike a travelling pedlar,—a stick in his hand to assist him in his progress, and a small, shaggy, wiry-haired terrier, cringing in alarm close at his heels.
The first sight of this odd figure was quite sufficient to assure Colin that he beheld no other than poor Peter Veriquear himself! Colin instantly ordered the people to stand back; and, to the amazement of all the clod-hoppers around, hurriedly seized him by the hand, with the exclamation—“Mr. Veriquear!—Or is it possible I can be mistaken?”
“Whether you are mistaken or not,” replied the individual thus addressed, “is your own business and not mine. Just as it is my business to say I am very glad to see my old assistant, Mr. Colin Clink.”
“But how,—under what strange circumstances have you come here, and in this manner?” demanded Colin.
“That,” replied Peter, “you must be aware is my own concern and not yours. Though perhaps,”—and he paused a moment,—“perhaps I ought to make it my business to tell you all about it.”
“Certainly,” responded Colin, “for I can assure you, in your own language, that I feel it to be my business to know. But come,” he continued, and at the same time motioning as though to lead him away,—“let me conduct you to better quarters than you will at present find in the village, and where we can talk over in a more private manner those things which I certainly feel somewhat anxious to hear.”
To this proposal Mr. Veriquear at once assented, with the remark that as Mr. Clink made it his own business to take him to good quarters, it could not possibly be any concern of his to object. And accordingly Mr. Peter Veriquear and his dog accompanied Colin to Kiddal Hall, where the first-named gentleman soon found himself seated at a plentiful table in the great kitchen, while the companion of his travels was accommodated, much to his satisfaction, with equally as abundant a meal provided for him at the entrance to an empty kennel which stood in the court-yard.
When Peter had sufficiently satisfied himself after this fashion, he attended the summons of the friend who assuredly in former times had been indebted to him, and was conducted into a private room where Colin had proposed to meet him alone.
“Ah, sir!” said Peter, as he took a chair and placed himself over against Colin, “you will feel quite as much astonished to find me sunk so low, as I am to see how high you have risen. Though to be sure,” he continued hesitatingly, “it is your business to be astonished at me, as it is mine to do the same by you.”
“Why, what can possibly have happened?” asked the other.