elf. I was tickled to be able to help my brother. I knew
that it was risky. I had no right to bring him aboard. I sat down to
wait, when I saw that I'd forgotten to tie up my canary, and I was
hunting for the calico I used at sea when the door opened and my brother
came in with a rush.

"It almost seemed as though soap and water had had a magical effect on
him. Literally, he wasn't the same man. His arms and legs stuck out of
the dungarees, his hair was still damp and hung between his eyes, and
his big hooked nose was dark red with towelling. He stood there, his
hand on the brass knob, looking at me pinning a piece of calico round my
canary.

"He looked at the little dumb-waiter spread for his supper and passed
his hand over his face. 'Charley,' he says, 'I must have a shave first.
The pangs of a guilty conscience,' he says, 'are piffle compared with
the miseries of a beard. Have you a good razor?'

"I had in my room a fold-up wash-stand and shaving-glass. I opened it
and pointed to the razors. 'There's no hot water,' I said. 'No hot--Why,
Charley, you don't expect a chap to shave in cold, do you? Good God,
man!'

"I give him credit for any amount of admiration for my little
arrangements. I got out a little tripod spirit lamp with a copper-kettle
that Rosa had given me; he was delighted. ''Pon my soul, Charley, you're
an ingenious devil! Fancy you living here all so snug and I knowing
nothing about it! Like Noah in his Ark, 'pon my soul.' When he began to
lather he kept up a running fire of remarks, mostly insulting. 'And what
are you here, old man? Admiral? Lord High Muck-a-Muck? They put you up
a jolly sight better than they did me in the second cabin of that
infernal liner I came over in. Heavens! Old Uncle Christopher wanted me
to go to New Zealand. He was cracked about New Zealand; dippy, 'pon my
soul. When I asked to see the manager of the affair, you know, the
Skipper, they showed me an underbred brass-bound official called a
_Purser_, who said he'd put me in irons if I wasn't civil. Oh, this
world has some bounders in it, Charley, my boy. What do you get here,
Charley? Pretty good screw, I suppose?' And so he ran on. When he had
finished spilling the talcum powder all over the floor, using my brushes
for his hair, he turned round and looked over the provisions.

"'Frank,' I said, 'when you've had something to eat and drink, I'll have
a talk with you.' 'With pleasure, my dear chap,' says he. 'But what a
mea