In his hand this remarkable-looking cleric still held Dan's cap. He looked at the badge and nodded his head towards the young man in a friendly fashion.
"So you are a Magdalen man, sir," said he, in a full rich voice. "I too am of that college. Et ego in Arcadia fui. 'Addison's Walk' by the Cher is dear to me."
Dan took his cap with a smile. The badge had unmasked him as an Oxonian, so that he could no longer pass himself off as cheap-jack of the caravan.
"Yes, I belonged to Magdalen, sir," he owned up, stepping out of the porch and covering his head. "Had you not seen this, I would not tell you so much. I am in a different walk of life at present, Mr. Jarner, and my name is Dan."
The clergyman looked at him with a slightly satirical expression on his full lips, and nodded. He quite understood the significance of the speech.
"Keep your secret, friend Dan. I too have heard the chimes at midnight. You are at a frolicsome age, and why should not a man play the fool when the blood sings in his veins? But within reason--within reason."
"Pagan sentiments, Mr. Jarner."
"Pish, my dear sir! The sentiments of every healthy-minded man. So you are Dan? I have heard of you and of your caravan in the dell. Come across and crack a bottle with me."
"What! port at four o'clock in the afternoon, and after the Red Deer ale? Do you take me for a four-bottle man, sir?"
Jarner cracked his whip at the dogs, who all three set up a barking chorus. Bent upon offering hospitality, he was not to be daunted by the first refusal.