a look at that
photograph again, will you, old man?"

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

HOW I FOUND MYSELF ONCE MORE AT HAWK STREET.

In due time the doctor paid his final visit and gave me leave to return
to Hawk Street.

I can't describe how strange it seemed to be walking out once more in
the open air, leaning on Jack's arm, and feeling myself an active member
of society.

The part of the town where Jack's lodgings were situated was new to me.
It could not have been worse than Beadle Square, but it wasn't much
better. This street was narrow and squalid and crowded, and presented
no attractions either in the way of fresh air or convenience. Still, to
me, any place that harboured Jack Smith would have been more homelike
than the stateliest mansion.

"By the way," said Jack, as we walked down to the office the first
morning, "I suppose you don't want to go back to Beadle Square."

"Not if I can help it," I said; "the only thing is, I suppose, I ought
to tell my uncle. You know he paid my lodging there."

"Oh, that's all right," said Jack. "I went down one day and saw Mrs
Nash and told her what had become of you, and said she might let your
bed to any one else. And I wrote to your uncle (I thought it best not
to bother you by telling you at the time), and told him where you were
and how you were getting on. He wrote back a civil note to say he was
glad to hear you were getting better; and with regard to the lodgings,
he had been just about to write and say that as you had now a
respectable income at the office he would not be continuing to pay for
your lodging; so that when you got well you might consider yourself free
to do as you liked in that respect."

"Awfully obliging of him," said I.

"Well, it struck me as rather a cordial way of putting it," remarked
Jack, laughing.

"I had better look for quarters at once," said I.

"Do nothing of the kind. Stay where you are!"

"What?" I exclaimed, in pleased astonishment. The idea had never
occurred to me before. "How ever could I? As it is I've been turning
Mr Smith out long enough."

"He was talking to me about it the other day," said Jack. "He finds
that all his time is now required at the office of the newspaper he
writes for, and therefore he has really no use for his room except as a
bedroom. So that our room up stairs is at our complete disposal."

"How jolly!" I exclaimed. "Nothing could have happened more
delightfully."

"Nothing," said