t that David and Jonathan had
ever been on speaking terms.

Then an unlooked-for incident caused a diversion and upset the
calculations of everybody.

Coote had, of all interested parties, least relished the falling-out of
his two old comrades. It had not only pained him as a friend, but,
personally, it had caused him the greatest discomfort.

For he found himself in the position of an animated buffer between the
two. When Heathcote wanted to show off to Dick that he was not breaking
his heart on his account, he got possession of Coote, and lavished
untoward affection on that tender youth. And when Dick wanted to
exhibit to Heathcote that he was not pining in solitude for want of an
adherent, he attached Coote to his person and treated him like his own
brother.

And Coote, when Heathcote had him, was all for Heathcote, and eloquent
on the abominable sins of piety and inconstancy. And when he was with
Dick he was all for Dick, and discoursed no less eloquently on the
wickedness of deceit and poorness of spirit. Sometimes his bad memory,
and the quick transitions of allegiance through which he was called upon
to pass, made him forget his _role_, and condole with Dick on
Heathcote's piety, or with Heathcote on Dick's poverty of spirit; and
sometimes, when, in the company of the one, he happened to meet the
other, he quite lost his head and made an ass of himself to both.

This course of double dissimulation at the end of a week began to lose
its charms, and Coote, with all his good nature and desire to make
things pleasant for everybody, began to get tired of his two friends and
long for a breath of freedom.

So he took an early morning stroll along the cliffs one morning,
finishing up with Mr Webster's shop in the High Street.

The gossiping Templeton stationer had suffered somewhat in temper since
the reader saw him last, three months ago. The young gentry for whom he
catered were not the "apples of his eyes" they had been. Not that he
was at open war with them, but he had a grievance.

He didn't complain of the liberties they sometimes took with his shop--
making it a general house of call and discussion forum. That was good
for trade, and Mr Webster didn't object to anything that was good for
trade. Nor did the occasional horse-play, and even fighting, that took
place on his premises now and then sour his milk of human kindness more
than was natural. But when it came to abusing, not himself, but his