There now, let your heart be at rest." And Wilkinson retired.

This was after dinner, on the day that succeeded the opening of our story.
As in the morning, he found it the most natural thing in the world to call in at a certain drinking house and get his accustomed glass of brandy.

As he entered the door of the bar-room, a man named Carlton stepped forward to meet him, with extended hand.

He was an old acquaintance, with whom Wilkinson had often passed an agreeable hour,--one of your bar-room loungers, known as good fellows, who, while they exhibit no apparent means of support, generally have money to spend, and plenty of time on their hands.
"Glad to see you, Wilkinson; 'pon my soul! Where have you kept yourself for this month of Sundays ?" Such was the familiar greeting of Carlton.
"And it does one's eyes good to look upon your pleasant face," returned Wilkinson, as he grasped the other's hand.

"Where have you kept yourself ?" "Oh, I'm always on hand," said Carlton, gayly.