this is your gentleman;” and then to the passenger who had just alighted, “Mr. Humphreys, sir? Glad to bid you welcome to Wilsthorpe. There’s a cart from the Hall for your luggage, and here’s Mr. Cooper, what I think you know.” Mr. Cooper had hurried up, and now raised his hat and shook hands. “Very pleased, I'm sure,” he said, “to give the echo to Mr. Palmer’s kind words. I should have been the first to render expression to them but for the face not being familiar to me, Mr. Humphreys. May your residence among us be marked as a red-letter day, sir.” “Thank you very much, Mr. Cooper,” said Humphreys, “for your good wishes, and Mr. Palmer also. I do hope very much that this change of—er—tenancy—which you must all regret, I am sure—will not be to the detriment of those with whom I shall be brought in contact.” He stopped, feeling that the words were not fitting themselves together in the happiest way, and Mr. Cooper cut in, “Oh, you may rest satisfied of that, Mr. Humphreys. I'll take it upon myself to
