“Wish I may die,” said Riderhood, smiting his right leg, and laughing, as he sat on the grass, “if you ain’t ha’ been a imitating me, t’otherest governor! Never thought myself so good-looking afore!”

Truly, Bradley Headstone had taken careful note of the honest man’s dress in the course of that night-walk they had had together. He must have committed it to memory, and slowly got it by heart. It was exactly reproduced in the dress he now wore. And whereas, in his own schoolmaster clothes, he usually looked as if they were the clothes of some other man, he now looked, in the clothes of some other man or men, as if they were his own.

“ This your lock?” said Bradley, whose surprise had a genuine air; “they told me, where I last inquired, it was the third I should come to. This is only the second.”