"Erle! Do you mean to say you are my boy Erle?" The Rector was

particular about his clothes. "Don't think of touching me. You are hair

all over, and I dare say never had a comb. I won't believe a word of it

until you prove it."

"Well, mother will know me, if you don't." The young man answered

calmly, having been tossed upon so many horns of adventure that none

could make a hole in him. "I thought that you would have been glad to

see me; and I managed to bring a good many presents; only they are

gone on to London. They could not be got at, to land them with me; but

Captain Southcombe will be sure to send them. You must not suppose,

because I am empty-handed now--"

"My dear son," cried the father, deeply hurt, "do you think that your

welcome depends upon presents? You have indeed fallen into savage ways.

Come, and let me examine you through your hair; though the light is

scarcely strong enough now to go through it. To think that you should be

my own Erle, alive after such a time, and with such a lot of hair! Only,

if there is any palm-oil on it--this is my last new coat but one."

"No, father, nothing that you ever can have dreamed of. Something that

will make you a bishop, if you like, and me a member of the House

of Lords. But I did not find it out myself--which makes success more

certain."

"They have taught you some great truths, my dear boy. The man who begins

a thing never gets on. But I am so astonished that I know not what I

say. I ought to have thanked the Lord long ago. Have you got a place

without any hair upon it large enough for me to kiss you?"

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