ere was subtle flattery in this; and flattery (we are told) will warm
the most austere of authors--which Staff was not. He said "Oh!" and
smiled his slow, wry smile; and Mr. Iff, remarking these symptoms of a
thaw with interest and encouragement, pressed his point.

"I don't mind an upper, really--only chose the lower because the choice
was mine, at the moment. If you prefer it--"

"The trouble is," Staff interrupted, "I want the whole room."

"Oh!... Friend with you?"

"No; but I had some notion of doing a little work on the way over."

"Writing? I see. But if that's all--!" Mr. Iff routed a negligible
quibble with an airy flirt of his delicate hand. "Trust me; you'll
hardly ever be reminded of my existence--I'm _that_ quiet. And besides,
I spend most of my time in the smoking-room. And I don't snore, and I'm
never seasick.... By the way," he added anxiously, "do or are you?"

"Never--"

"Then we'll get along famously. I'll cheerfully take the upper, and even
should I tumble out on top of you, you'd never know it: my weight is
nothing--hardly that. Now what d' you say? Is it a go?"

"But--I don't know you--"

"Business of making a noise like an Englishman!" commented Mr. Iff with
bitter scorn.

"--well enough to accept such a favour from you. I'll take second choice
myself--the upper, I mean."

"You won't; but we'll settle that on shipboard," said Mr. Iff promptly.
"As for knowing me--business of introducing myself. Mr. Staff, I want
you to shake hands with my friend, Mr. Iff. W. H. Iff, Whiff: sometimes
so-called: merry wheeze based on my typographical make-up; once a joke,
now so grey with age I generally pull it myself, thus saving new
acquaintances the mental strain. Practical philanthropy--what? Whim of
mine."

"Indeed?"

"Believe _me_. You've no notion how folks suffer in the first throes of
that giddy pun. And then when it falls flat--naturally _I_ can't laugh
like a fool at it any longer--_blooie!_" said Mr. Iff with
expression--"like that--_blooie!_--they _do_ feel so cheap. Wherefore I
maintain I do humanity a service when I beat it to that moth-eaten joke.
You follow me?"

Staff laughed.

"Then it's all settled. Good! We shan't be in one another's way. You'll
see."

"Unless you talk in your sleep, too."

Mr. Iff looked unspeakable reproach. "You'll soon get accustomed to me,"
he said, brightening--"won't mind my merry prattle any more 'n the song
of a giddy humming-bird."

He turned