Mr. Brown did not say what he thought. He was writing steadily, giving no encouragement for the continuance of the conversation. Mr. Hurst, his elbow on the desk, had his face turned to the speaker, surveying him at leisure.
"I couldn't stand it; I should have been in my grave in no time; and so I thought I'd try a part of the world that might be more desirable--Port Natal. I say, what are you staring at?"
This was to Mr. Hurst. The latter dropped his elbow as he answered.
"I was looking whether you were much altered. You are: and yet I think I should hare known you, after a bit, for Roland Yorke. When the name was mentioned I might have been at fault, but for your speaking of Lord Carrick."
"He's my uncle," said Roland. "Who are you?"
"Jos Hurst, from Helstonleigh. Have you forgotten me? I was at the college school with your brothers, Gerald and Tod."
Roland stared. He had not forgotten Josiah Hurst; but the rather short and very broad young man by his side, as broad as he was high, bore no resemblance to the once slim college boy. Roland never doubted: he got off his stool, upsetting it in the process, to shake heartily the meeting hand. Mr. Brown began to think the quiet of the office would not be much enhanced through its new inmate.
"My goodness! you are the first of the old fellows I've seen. And what are you, Hurst,--a lawyer?"
"Yes; I've passed. But the old doctor (at home, you know) won't buy me a practice, or let me set up for myself, or anything, until I've had some experience: and so I've come to Greatorex and Greatorex to get it," concluded Mr. Hurst, ruefully.
"And who's he?" continued Roland, pointing to Jenner. "Greatorex said nothing about him."