Perhaps
he might snatch a bit of breakfast on the strength of his likeness
to this other missing ne'er-do-well, and get safely away before
anyone discovered the fraud that had been thrust on him. In the
room downstairs he found the bent old man ready with a dish of
bacon and fried eggs for "Master Tom's" breakfast, while a hard-
faced elderly maid brought in a teapot and poured him out a cup of
tea. As he sat at the table a small spaniel came up and made
friendly advances.
"'Tis old Bowker's pup," explained the old man, whom the hard-
faced maid had addressed as George. "She was main fond of you;
never seemed the same after you went away to Australee. She died
'bout a year agone. 'Tis her pup."
Stoner found it difficult to regret her decease; as a witness for
identification she would have left something to be desired.
"You'll go for a ride, Master Tom?" was the next startling
proposition that came from the old man. "We've a nice little roan
cob that goes well in saddle. Old Biddy is getting a bit up in
years, though 'er goes well still, but I'll have the little roan
saddled and brought round to door."
"I've got no riding things," stammered the castaway, almost
laughing as he looked down at his one suit of well-worn clothes.
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