Great irresolution was displayed at the injunction, but having consulted the face of Mr. Raikes, one fellow, evidently half overcome by what was put upon him, with the steps of Adam into exile, descended to the gravel, and laid his hand on the donkey's head.
'Hold hard!' cried Old Tom. 'Whisper in his ear. He'll know your language.'
'May I have the felicity of assisting you to terra firma?' interposed Mr.
Raikes, with the bow of deferential familiarity.
'Done that once too often,' returned Old Tom, jumping out. 'There. What's the fee? There's a crown for you that ain't afraid of a live donkey; and there 's a sixpenny bit for you that are—to keep up your courage; and when he's dead you shall have his skin—to shave by.'
'Excellent!' shouted Raikes.
'Thomas!' he addressed a footman, 'hand in my card. Mr. John Feversham
Raikes.'
'And tell my lady, Tom Cogglesby's come,' added the owner of that name.
We will follow Tom Cogglesby, as he chooses to be called.
Lady Jocelyn rose on his entering the library, and walking up to him, encountered him with a kindly full face.
'So I see you at last, Tom?' she said, without releasing his hand; and Old Tom mounted patches of red in his wrinkled cheeks, and blinked, and betrayed a singular antiquated bashfulness, which ended, after a mumble of 'Yes, there he was, and he hoped her ladyship was well,' by his seeking refuge in a chair, where he sat hard, and fixed his attention on the leg of a table.