Now a little lift on that rickety elbow and I reckon we can make that flight of steps.

I have come down them so many times of late with no expectation of ever mounting them again that it will be a novelty to be sure of staying over night.

Come in, Talbot, and see the home of my ancestors.

I am sorry the Black Warrior is all gone--I sent Kennedy the last bottle some time ago--pity that vintage didn't last forever.

Do you know, Talbot, if I had my way, I'd have a special spigot put in the City Spring labelled 'Gift of a once prominent citizen,' and supply the inhabitants with 1810--something fit for a gentleman to drink." They were all laughing now; the colonel carrying the pillows Todd had tucked behind the invalid's back, Harry a few toilet articles wrapped in paper, and Matthew his cane--and so the cortege crawled up the steps, crossed the dismantled dining-room--the colonel aghast at the change made in its interior since last he saw it--and so on to St.George's room where Todd and Jemima put him to bed.
His uncle taken care of--( his father had kept on to Moorlands to tell his mother the good news)--Harry mounted the stairs to his old room, which Pawson had generously vacated.
The appointments were about the same as when he left; time and poverty had wrought but few changes.