In exactly the same way, when he was persuaded out of the sacrifice of these five pounds by being convinced that it would do no good, he carried that sum to his credit and drew upon it.

“Let me see!” he would say.  “I saved five pounds out of the brickmaker’s affair, so if I have a good rattle to London and back in a post-chaise and put that down at four pounds, I shall have saved one.  And it’s a very good thing to save one, let me tell you:  a penny saved is a penny got!”

I believe Richard’s was as frank and generous a nature as there possibly can be.  He was ardent and brave, and in the midst of all his wild restlessness, was so gentle that I knew him like a brother in a few weeks.  His gentleness was natural to him and would have shown itself abundantly even without Ada’s influence; but with it, he became one of the most winning of companions, always so ready to be interested and always so happy, sanguine, and light-hearted.  I am sure that I, sitting with them, and walking with them, and talking with them, and noticing from day to day how they went on, falling deeper and deeper in love, and saying nothing about it, and each shyly thinking that this love was the greatest of secrets, perhaps not yet suspected even by the other—­I am sure that I was scarcely less enchanted than they were and scarcely less pleased with the pretty dream.

We were going on in this way, when one morning at breakfast Mr. Jarndyce received a letter, and looking at the superscription, said, “From Boythorn?  Aye, aye!” and opened and read it with evident pleasure, announcing to us in a parenthesis when he was about half-way through, that Boythorn was “coming down” on a visit.  Now who was Boythorn, we all thought.  And I dare say we all thought too—­I am sure I did, for one—­would Boythorn at all interfere with what was going forward?

“I went to school with this fellow, Lawrence Boythorn,” said Mr. Jarndyce, tapping the letter as he laid it on the table, “more than five and forty years ago.  He was then the most impetuous boy in the world, and he is now the most impetuous man.  He was then the loudest boy in the world, and he is now the loudest man.  He was then the heartiest and sturdiest boy in the world, and he is now the heartiest and sturdiest man.  He is a tremendous fellow.”

“In stature, sir?” asked Richard.

“Pretty well, Rick, in that respect,” said Mr. Jarndyce; “being some ten years older than I and a couple of inches taller, with his head thrown back like an old soldier, his stalwart chest squared, his hands like a clean blacksmith’s, and his lungs!  There’s no simile for his lungs.  Talking, laughing, or snoring, they make the beams of the house shake.”

As Mr. Jarndyce sat enjoying the image of his friend Boythorn, we observed the favourable omen that there was not the least indication of any change in the wind.