In the porch of the house sat
Ready-Money Jack, in his Sunday dress; with his hat upon his head, his
pipe in his mouth, and his tankard before him, the monarch of all he
surveyed. Beside him lay his fat house-dog. The varied sounds of
poultry were heard from the well-stocked farm-yard; the bees hummed
from their hives in the garden; the cattle lowed in the rich meadow;
while the crammed barns and ample stacks bore proof of an abundant
harvest.
The stranger opened the gate and advanced dubiously toward the house.
The mastiff growled at the sight of the suspicious-looking intruder;
but was immediately silenced by his master, who, taking his pipe from
his mouth, awaited with inquiring aspect the address of this equivocal
personage. The stranger eyed old Jack for a moment, so portly in his
dimensions, and decked out in gorgeous apparel; then cast a glance
upon his own thread-bare and starveling condition, and the scanty
bundle which he held in his hand; then giving his shrunk waistcoat a
twitch to make it meet its receding waistband, and casting another
look, half sad, half humorous, at the sturdy yeoman, "I suppose," said
he, "Mr. Tibbets, you have forgot old times and old playmates."
The latter gazed at him with scrutinizing look, but acknowledged that
he had no recollection of him.
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