mortification; and how the next day he had sneaked off
by himself, and, attacking the same gang, got frightfully mauled a second
time.

Thinking of these things he answered curtly: "When shall I start?"

"Down-by-the-starn" Hemmings replied with a sort of fearful
sprightliness: "There's a good fellow! I will send instructions; so glad
to see you well." Conferring on Scorrier a look--fine to the verge of
vulgarity--he withdrew. Scorrier remained, seated; heavy with
insignificance and vague oppression, as if he had drunk a tumbler of
sweet port.

A week later, in company with Pippin, he was on board a liner.

The "King" Pippin of his school-days was now a man of forty-four. He
awakened in Scorrier the uncertain wonder with which men look backward at
their uncomplicated teens; and staggering up and down the decks in the
long Atlantic roll, he would steal glances at his companion, as if he
expected to find out from them something about himself. Pippin had still
"King" Pippin's bright, fine hair, and dazzling streaks in his short
beard; he had still a bright colour and suave voice, and what there were
of wrinkles suggested only subtleties of humour and ironic sympathy. From
the first, and apparently without negotiation, he had his seat at the
captain's table, to which on the second day Scorrier too found himself
translated, and had to sit, as he expressed it ruefully, "among the
big-wigs."

During the voyage only one incident impressed itself on Scorrier's
memory, and that for a disconcerting reason. In the forecastle were the
usual complement of emigrants. One evening, leaning across the rail to
watch them, he felt a touch on his arm; and, looking round, saw Pippin's
face and beard quivering in the lamplight. "Poor people!" he said. The
idea flashed on Scorrier that he was like some fine wire sound-recording
instrument.

'Suppose he were to snap!' he thought. Impelled to justify this fancy,
he blurted out: "You're a nervous chap. The way you look at those poor
devils!"

Pippin hustled him along the deck. "Come, come, you took me off my
guard," he murmured, with a sly, gentle smile, "that's not fair."

He found it a continual source of wonder that Pippin, at his age, should
cut himself adrift from the associations and security of London life to
begin a new career in a new country with dubious prospect of success. 'I
always heard he was doing well all round,' he thought; 'thinks he'll
better himself, p