"Well, Mr. Housden, and how are you?" said the young man, standing outside and shaking the wet off him after the fashion of a Newfoundland dog.
"I keep my health wonderful considering, thank you, Mr. Rupert," answered the butler, for it was that functionary who stood at the glass door contemplating the weather. "And how is the family at Homewood, sir?"
"My uncle is very ill," was the reply; "he has not been able to be out of his room for the last three weeks. Mrs. Mortomley and my sister and Miss Lenore are as usual. Governor is at dinner I suppose?"
"No, sir, Mr. Dean has finished dinner, or I should not be disengaged. He is sitting over his dessert, sir, with a bottle of his very particular old port."
"The thermometer was so low it took that to raise it," muttered Rupert to himself; then added, "Ask Rigby to step this way and take these dripping things of mine, will you, Housden? I want to see Mr. Dean."
"Allow me, Mr. Rupert. Let me relieve you of your coat." And Mr. Housden, who would have been grievously insulted had the young man seemed to suppose he could condescend so far, took the waterproof, and the knickerbockers, and the hat, and the whip, and conveyed them himself to Rigby, after which he announced Mr. Halling's arrival to his master, and received orders to show him in.
What with dinner and its accompaniments, Mr. Dean had been half dozing in his arm-chair when his butler informed him of Mr. Halling's presence, and he arose to meet his visitor with a stupid confusion of manner which at once gave Rupert an advantage over him.
If he had not dined and been quite awake, and in full possession of his business senses, he would not have greeted Rupert with that awkward—
"Yes, to be sure, Mr. Halling. Did not expect to see you again so soon; not such an evening as this I mean."
"Oh! I don't care for rain," Rupert answered. "I ride between the drops."