ears before the wheels of life carried Scorrier back to
that disenchanted spot, and this time not on the business of the New
Colliery Company. He went for another company with a mine some thirty
miles away. Before starting, however, he visited Hemmings. The secretary
was surrounded by pigeon-holes and finer than ever; Scorrier blinked in
the full radiance of his courtesy. A little man with eyebrows full of
questions, and a grizzled beard, was seated in an arm-chair by the fire.

"You know Mr. Booker," said Hemmings--"one of my directors. This is Mr.
Scorrier, sir--who went out for us."

These sentences were murmured in a way suggestive of their uncommon
value. The director uncrossed his legs, and bowed. Scorrier also bowed,
and Hemmings, leaning back, slowly developed the full resources of his
waistcoat.

"So you are going out again, Scorrier, for the other side? I tell Mr.
Scorrier, sir, that he is going out for the enemy. Don't find them a
mine as good as you found us, there's a good man."

The little director asked explosively: "See our last dividend? Twenty
per cent; eh, what?"

Hemmings moved a finger, as if reproving his director. "I will not
disguise from you," he murmured, "that there is friction between us
and--the enemy; you know our position too well--just a little too well,
eh? 'A nod's as good as a wink.'"

His diplomatic eyes flattered Scorrier, who passed a hand over his
brow--and said: "Of course."

"Pippin doesn't hit it off with them. Between ourselves, he's a leetle
too big for his boots. You know what it is when a man in his position
gets a sudden rise!"

Scorrier caught himself searching on the floor for a sight of Hemmings'
boots; he raised his eyes guiltily. The secretary continued: "We don't
hear from him quite as often as we should like, in fact."

To his own surprise Scorrier murmured: "It's a silent place!"

The secretary smiled. "Very good! Mr. Scorrier says, sir, it's a silent
place; ha-ha! I call that very good!" But suddenly a secret irritation
seemed to bubble in him; he burst forth almost violently: "He's no
business to let it affect him; now, has he? I put it to you, Mr.
Scorrier, I put it to you, sir!"

But Scorrier made no reply, and soon after took his leave: he had been
asked to convey a friendly hint to Pippin that more frequent letters
would be welcomed. Standing in the shadow of the Royal Exchange, waiting
to thread his way across, he thought: 'So you must have noise