FOOTNOTES: 

[A] A fact.  Said in the writer’s presence by a young clergyman of the same breed as the one here described.

Chapter the Eleventh

The repairs to the ceiling in Austin’s room were now finished, and it was with great satisfaction that he resumed possession of his old quarters.  The mysterious events that had befallen him when he slept there last, some weeks before, recurred very vividly to his mind as he found himself once more amid the familiar surroundings, and although he heard no more raps or anything else of an abnormal nature, he felt that, whatever dangers might threaten him in the future, he would always be protected by those he thought of as his unseen friends.  Aunt Charlotte, meanwhile, had taken an opportunity of consulting the vicar as to the orthodoxy of a belief in guardian angels, and the vicar had reassured her at once by referring her to the Collect for St Michael and All Angels, in which we are invited to pray that they may succour and defend us upon earth; so that there really was nothing superstitious in the conclusion that, as Austin had undoubtedly been succoured and defended in a very remarkable manner on more than one occasion, some benevolent entity from a better world might have had a hand in it.  The worthy lady, of course, could not resist the temptation of informing Mr Sheepshanks of what her bankers had said about the investment he had so earnestly urged upon her, and the vicar seemed greatly surprised.  He had not put any money into it himself, it was true, but was being sorely tempted by another prospectus he had just received of an enterprise for recovering the baggage which King John lost some centuries ago in the Wash.  The only consideration that made him hesitate was the uncertainty whether, in view of the perishable nature of the things themselves, they would be worth very much to anybody if ever they were fished up.

“Austin,” said Aunt Charlotte, two days afterwards at breakfast, “I have had another letter from Mr Ogilvie.  Of course I wrote to him when I heard first, saying how pleased I should be to see him whenever he was in the neighbourhood again; and now I have his reply.  He proposes to call here to-morrow afternoon, and have a cup of tea with us.”

“So the fateful day has come at last,” remarked Austin.  “Very well, auntie, I’ll make myself scarce while you’re talking over old times together, but I insist on coming in before he goes, remember.  I’m awfully curious to see what he’s like.  Do you think he wears a wig?”

“I really haven’t thought about it,” replied his aunt.  “It’s nothing to me whether he does or not—­or to you either, for the matter of that.  Of course you must present yourself to him some time or other; it would be most discourteous not to.  And do, if you can, try and behave rather more like other people.  Don’t parade your terrible ignorance of geography, for instance, as you do sometimes.  He would think that I had neglected your education disgracefully, and seeing what a traveller he’s been himself—­”