The brass-plate bearing my friend's name and
designation was still on the door, and when it
was opened, the old domestic appeared a good
deal older I thought than he ought naturally
to have looked, considering the period of my absence.
``Is Mr Sommerville at home?'' said I,
pressing forward.
``Yes, sir,'' said John, placing himself in opposition
to my entrance, ``he is at home, but------''
``But he is not in,'' said I. ``I remember your
phrase of old, John. Come, I will step into his
room, and leave a line for him.''
John was obviously embarrassed by my familiarity.
I was some one, lie saw, whom he ought to
recollect, at the same time it was evident he remembered
nothing about me.
``Ay, sir, my master is in, and in his own room,
but------''
I would not hear him out, but passed before him
towards the well-known apartment. A young lady
came out of the room a little disturbed, as it seemed,
and said, ``John, what is the matter?''
``A gentleman, Miss Nelly, that insists on seeing
my master.''
``A very old and deeply indebted friend,'' said
I, ``that ventures to press myself on my much-respected
benefactor on my return from abroad.
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