opped promptly to attention.

"Well, Billy," said Smith, "are you ready for me?" Billy grinned all
over his face, as he replied, "Yaas," and at once fell-to work.

Hawkesbury watched the incident with interest, not quite sure what to
make of it, and rather taken aback to have our walk thus abruptly
stopped.

"Old gal's bolted agin," observed Billy, in the middle of his task.
"'Ave any of you blokes saw her?"

"No," said Smith, "when did she go?"

"Last night," said Billy. "She give me a dose fust, and when I came
round, if she ain't sloped along of all my browns. She's a rum un."

Poor Billy, what a picture of his domestic life was this!

"Bless you, though," continued he, breathing hard on to the toes of
Jack's boot, "she'll turn up. When she's done them browns she'll step
round for more. Bless her old soul!"

"You ought to keep your money where she can't find it," suggested Jack.

"'Tain't no concern of yourn where I keep my brass. Oh, my eye, there's
a nob!" cried he, suddenly perceiving Hawkesbury, who all this time had
been looking on and listening in bewilderment. "Shin'e boots next,
cap'n? Oh my, ain't he a topper?"

This last appeal was made to Jack, whose boots were now clean, and who,
of course, did not reply.

"Who's your friend?" said Hawkesbury to him, with a smile.

"My friend's a shoeblack," drily replied Smith.

"All, a curious little fellow. Well, as I dare say you've plenty to say
to one another, I'll be going. Good-bye," and he shook hands with us
both and departed.

That evening Jack and I had a long and painful discussion about
Hawkesbury. As usual, he had not a good word to say for him, while I,
on the contrary, thought that at any rate he might be well-meaning.

"All I can say is," said Jack, "it wouldn't take much to make me leave
Hawk Street now."

"Oh, don't say that!" I cried, miserable at the bare idea.

"Don't be afraid," said he, bitterly. "A convict's son can't get taken
on anywhere, and I shall just have to stay where I am as long as there
are the people at home to depend on me."

He said this in such a sad tone that my heart bled for him. Alas! there
seemed to be anything but happy days in store for my friend Smith.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

HOW I SERVED MY FRIEND SMITH ANYTHING BUT A GOOD TURN.

A week sufficed to put Hawkesbury quite at his ease at Hawk Street. And
it sufficed also to reconcile most of the clerks to the new arrival.
For Hawkesbury,