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           “Waitfiveminutesandthengoroundtothebackdoor.”Andwiththatheleftme.

           IdidasIwasbidden.Ifoundaprettycottagewithalawnrunningdowntothestream,andaperfectjungleofguelder-roseandlilacflankingthepath.Thebackdoorstoodopen,andagravebutlerwasawaitingme.

           “Comethisway,sir,”hesaid,andheledmealongapassageandupabackstaircasetoapleasantbedroomlookingtowardstheriver.ThereIfoundacompleteoutfitlaidoutforme—dressclotheswithallthefixings,abrownflannelsuit,shirts,collars,ties,shavingthingsandhair-brushes,evenapairofpatentshoes.“SirWalterthoughtashowMrReggie’sthingswouldfityou,sir,”saidthebutler.“Hekeepssomeclothes’ere,forhecomesregularontheweek-ends.There’sabathroomnextdoor,andI’veprepareda’otbath.Dinnerin’alfanhour,sir.You’ll’earthegong.”

           Thegravebeingwithdrew,andIsatdowninachintz-coveredeasy-chairandgaped.Itwaslikeapantomime,tocomesuddenlyoutofbeggardomintothisorderlycomfort.ObviouslySirWalterbelievedinme,thoughwhyhedidIcouldnotguess.Ilookedatmyselfinthemirrorandsawawild,haggardbrownfellow,withafortnight’sraggedbeard,anddustinearsandeyes,collarless,vulgarlyshirted,withshapelessoldtweedclothesandbootsthathadnotbeencleanedforthebetterpartofamonth.Imadeafinetrampandafairdrover;andhereIwasusheredbyaprimbutlerintothistempleofgraciousease.