“Roy hinted that his son was going to foreign lands.  I did not choose to let him see that I knew anything, so remarked that I had heard he was gone to London.  ‘London!’ he answered; ’that was only the first halting-place on the journey!’”

“Did he give any hint about John?”

“Not a word,” replied Rachel.  “He would not be likely to do that.”

“No.  Roy can keep counsel, whatever other virtues he may run short of.  Suppose you had joined your fortunes to sighing Luke’s, Rachel, and gone out with him to grow rich together?” added Frederick Massingbird, in a tone which could be taken for either jest or earnest.

She evidently took it as the latter, and it appeared to call up an angry spirit.  She was vexed almost to tears.  Frederick Massingbird detected it.

“Silly Rachel!” he said, with a smile.  “Do you suppose I should really counsel your throwing yourself away upon Luke Roy?—­Rachel,” he continued, as the housekeeper again made her appearance, “you must bring up the things as soon as they are ready.  My brother is waiting for them.”

“I’ll bring them up, sir,” replied Rachel.

Frederick Massingbird passed through the passages to the hall, and then proceeded upstairs to the bedroom occupied by his brother.  A sufficiently spacious room for any ordinary purpose, but it did not look half large enough now for the litter that was in it.  Wardrobes and drawers were standing open, their contents half out, half in; chairs, tables, bed, were strewed; and boxes and portmanteaus were gaping open on the floor.  John Massingbird, the elder brother, was stowing away some of this litter into the boxes; not all sixes and sevens, as it looked lying there, but compactly and artistically.  John Massingbird possessed a ready hand at packing and arranging; and therefore he preferred doing it himself to deputing it to others.  He was one year older than his brother, and there was a great likeness between them in figure and in feature.  Not in expression:  in that, they were widely different.  They were about the same height, and there was the same stoop observable in the shoulders; the features also were similar in cast, and sallow in hue; the same the black eyes and hair.  John had large whiskers, otherwise the likeness would have been more striking; and his face was not disfigured by the strange black mark.  He was the better looking of the two; his face wore an easy, good-natured, free expression; while Frederick’s was cold and reserved.  Many people called John Massingbird a handsome man.  In character they were quite opposite.  John was a harum-scarum chap, up to every scrape; Fred was cautious and steady as Old Time.