ifferent, was at no pains to hide his
perplexity. "_A banjo?_" he repeated, slowly, "a banjo--a ban----?"

Light came to him suddenly, and he flew at Mr. Green with his fists
whirling. In a second the bar was in an uproar, and the well-meant and
self-preservative efforts of Joe and the cook to get the combatants into
the street were frustrated by people outside blocking up the doors. They
came out at last, and Fraser, who was passing, ran over just in time
to save Mr. Green, who was doing his best, from the consequences of a
somewhat exaggerated fastidiousness. The incident, however, afforded a
welcome distraction, and having seen Mr. Green off in the direction of
the steamer, while the fireman returned to the public-house, he bent his
steps homewards and played a filial game at cards with his father before
retiring.

They sailed for London the following afternoon, Mr. Green taking a
jaundiced view of the world from a couple of black eyes, while the
fireman openly avowed that only the economical limitations of Nature
prevented him from giving him more. Fraser, a prey to gentle melancholy,
called them to order once or twice, and then left them to the mate, a
man whose talent for ready invective was at once the admiration and envy
of his peers.

The first night in London he spent on board, and with pencil and paper
sat down to work out the position of the _Golden Cloud_. He pictured her
with snowy pinions outspread, passing down Channel. He pictured Poppy
sitting on the poop in a deck-chair and Flower coming as near as his
work would allow, exchanging glances with her. Then he went up on deck,
and, lighting his pipe, thought of that never-to-be-forgotten night when
Poppy had first boarded the _Foam_.

The next night his mood changed, and unable to endure the confinement
of the ship, he went for a lonely tramp round the streets. He hung
round the Wheelers, and, after gazing at their young barbarians at play,
walked round and looked at Flower's late lodgings. It was a dingy house,
with broken railings and an assortment of papers and bottles in the
front garden, and by no means calculated to relieve depression. From
there he instinctively wandered round to the lodgings recently inhabited
by Miss Tyrell.

He passed the house twice, and noted with gloom the already neglected
appearance of her front window. The Venetian blind, half drawn up, was
five or six inches higher one side than the other, and a vase of faded
flower